Gut-Check Movie Review: The Black Dahlia

The Black Dahlia was my introduction to James Ellroy, and my love of the book made me really want to enjoy this movie. Sadly, it was not to be. Director Brian DePalma almost never fails to disappoint, and though this proved one of his more competent outings of recent years, it still fell miles short of the mark. There's the uninspired casting to blame, the tepid pacing, and a script more hollow than a jack o' lantern on November 1, but really it's the combined weight of all these flaws that drives this film to the greatest of sins when it comes to film noir--it is forgettable. Granted there are moments of brilliance and the movie posseses more style than it knows what to do with. Parts of it are fleetingly poignant or wonderfully atmospheric. But in the end, with a rushed and very clumsy conclusion, it simply adds up to a big nothing. I recall hearing somwhere around the time of the theatrical release that a three-hour version of the film played much better and even earned kind words from Ellroy. It's conceivable that with more of Ellroy's story translated intact, the movie could have taken on greater depth, but even if an extended version comes down the pike someday, I still think I'll opt to reread the novel instead.