As with most critics, my favorite film of 1990 was Martin Scorsese’s “GoodFellas.” But my second favorite that year was a small low-budget indie that still ranks as one of my most beloved pictures of the 1990s – James Foley’s “After Dark, My Sweet.” It is a neo-noir gem of which you've likely heard nothing before. Trust me, you’d do well to seek out this dark, intransigent look at three lonely, emotionally drained characters who would do anything for money.
Good-looking Jason Patric is almost unrecognizable as Collie, an ex-boxer with a hardened heavy-razor-stubble face that somehow draws the attraction of beautiful, sultry Fay, played by 1980s model-actress Rachel Ward. Having learned that Collie has recently escaped from a mental institution, she hires him for odd-job work around her property, which has descended into a state of deterioration since her husband left.
A Hollywood script would have placed our two leads into the bedroom before the end of the first reel. But this screenplay (by Foley and Robert Redlin) moves at the deliberate pacing of a classic film noir. Rather than rush the love story, this one gives the impression of playing out in real time. Plot twists don’t occur in “After Dark, My Sweet” without good reason.
Which brings us to our third character, Uncle Bud, played by the always ambiguous and often dubious character actor Bruce Dern, in his best pre-“Nebraska” performance. Uncle Bud is an ex-cop who wants to kidnap the son of a wealthy entrepreneur and get rich off the ransom. While this sounds like the classic “dumb idea,” as a former lawman Bud would most likely be able to cover his tracks and hide himself and any conspirators better than your average criminal. Plus, Collie is just unstable enough to give the idea his consideration.
Somehow, Bud manages to coerce Collie into actually performing the kidnapping, while he drives the getaway car. Unfortunately, Collie grabs the wrong boy. And then things really start to go wrong for our trio of miscreants. But as with classic film noir (and Coen Brothers-style neo-noir), the script is tight. Every plot development happens for a reason, and each twist and turn of the story results in another twist or turn – in most cases, dragging the three protagonists further into an abyss from which there is likely no escape.
Based on a 1955 novel by author Jim Thompson, a novelist and screenwriter who specialized in eerie, cynical crime dramas, Foley directs “After Dark, My Sweet” as true to the source material as any film I’ve ever seen. Every scene in the film parallels one in the novel. Although Thompson died in 1977, I have to believe he would have loved “After Dark, My Sweet” as much as I did. Foley specialized in adapting novels and plays to the big screen (such as David Mamet’s classic “Glengarry Glen Ross” two years later), and he shows his deft touch here, never letting directorial gimmicks stand in the way of truly great source material.
Playing against type, Patric and Ward give by far the best performances of their careers. When they finally make love, we feel more a sense of relief than a perception of true love. These are two forlorn, easily manipulated characters, beaten down by the apparently unfortunate manifestations of their past lives.
Thompson doesn’t give us much background, and in a way, we don’t need it. He presents his characters exactly as they exist in the present moment – rode hard and weary of life. Questions such as, “Why wouldn’t Fay have already paid a handyman to fix up her estate?” and “How can an institutionalized escapee continue to successfully dodge the authorities?” are not only never answered, but they are never asked in the first place. This film is about its plot, and only its plot. And as the story unfolds, you’ll realize that the director and writers are as much the stars of this picture as are the actors.
“After Dark, My Sweet” is a pleasing piece of filmmaking somehow lost among the big fall releases in 1990. It is a crime that this picture never found the audience it deserved. Please seek out “After Dark, My Sweet” for a real motion-picture delight.
Andy Ray's reviews also appear on http://www.artschannelindy.com/