Buried Treasures: The Spanish Prisoner
The late 1990s were a great time for Hollywood motion pictures, but there were three Buried Treasures during this period that I’d like to highlight over the next three months.
Let’s begin in 1997. This was the year “Titanic” scored that rarest of hat tricks: It was the year’s box office champ, it was critically acclaimed and it won the Best Picture Oscar. But Hollywood churned out some other great feature films that year too: Curtis Hanson’s thriller, “L.A. Confidential,” Ang Lee’s “The Ice Storm” and Paul Thomas Anderson’s breakout picture, “Boogie Nights.” Veteran actors Peter Fonda and Robert Duvall turned in their best performances ever in “Ulee’s Gold” and “The Apostle,” respectively. Matt Damon and Ben Affleck shot to stardom in “Good Will Hunting.”
Lost in the shuffle was perhaps the best David Mamet screenplay ever filmed. Coming on the heels of the successful big-screen adaptation of his play “Glengarry Glen Ross” in 1992, Mamet’s 1994 offering “Oleanna” was a rare bomb — both critically and at the box office. He was due for a hit. And boy, did he score – with critics and (by Mamet’s metage) with filmgoers. Unfortunately, few people remember “The Spanish Prisoner,” and it deserves a second look.
Campbell Scott (son of George C.) stars as Joe Ross, a corporate engineer who has developed a new industrial process. The plot revolves around an elaborate scam to steal the intellectual property behind this process. Initially, this may sound boring, but remember this is David Mamet. Not since Hitchcock’s “North By Northwest” and Polanski’s “Rosemary’s Baby” has a writer-director so excelled at presenting average Americans immured in machinations over which they possess no control. “The Spanish Prisoner” falls under the same umbrella as Mamet’s directorial debut, 1987’s “House Of Games” — the story of an intricate con game to swindle money from a wealthy author. The parallels between “House Of Games” and “The Spanish Prisoner” are many, although I prefer the Scott vehicle, if for no other reason than the hustlers are after intellectual property rather than the more standard money or tangible goods.
Playing about as radically against type as possible, Steve Martin turns in one of the best performances of his career as a wealthy traveler who meets Ross on a corporate retreat in the Caribbean. Martin does an excellent job building trust yet still seeming as though he may be hiding something. He asks Ross to deliver a book to his sister when he returns to New York. Turns out the sister doesn’t really exist (a confidence game known as the Spanish Prisoner), Ross unknowingly opens a Swiss bank account and unknowingly buys a one-way ticket out of the country. Thus begins a sophisticated swindle involving Ross’ boss and an FBI agent who was present at the corporate retreat. But Ross is no dummy. He knows Martin’s fingerprints are on the book he gave him, which initiates his reaction to the scam.
This is classic Mamet. A labyrinthine plot entrapping a common man into an axiomatic contrivance of grand proportion. The story unfolds layer by layer, in a deliberate yet headlong manner, as Mamet reveals only what we need to know, when we need to know it. And if you’ve never heard Mamet dialogue, you’re in for a treat. His characters speak in choppy, staccato sentences, always reaching for just the right words — often saying more in their silence than in their verbiage.
There are no wasted scenes in “The Spanish Prisoner.” Everything we see and hear will mean something eventually. It’s a tight, alluring story, and a true joy to experience. “The Spanish Prisoner” is one of those films you’ll want to rewatch immediately upon its conclusion.