Narc Review
by Jon Popick (jpopick AT sick-boy DOT com)February 14th, 2003
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On the surface, Narc sounds like the kind of flick that should be going straight to either video or cable. I had never heard of the director (Joe Carnahan), and the two leads (Jason Patric and Ray Liotta) are hardly the stuff of dreams. So what am I missing here? Why the hell is this low-budget movie getting one of those limited, Oscar-qualifying runs in late December before opening nationwide in January alongside pictures like The Hours and About Schmidt?
Now that I've seen Narc, everything makes sense. This shit is the bomb. It belongs in the same company as the gritty '70s police dramas made by William Friedkin, Sidney Lumet and Al Pacino. And that's saying something, considering those titles include films like The French Connection, Serpico, Dog Day Afternoon, Panic in Needle Park and Cruising. It seems like the hip thing to do is hail Carnahan as the next Quentin Tarantino, and I guess that makes sense. Like Tarantino, Carnahan is able to inject humor into even the most unspeakably grisly of acts. But unlike the Pulp Fiction director, he also incorporates several beautiful moments of reflection that reminded me a lot of Steven Soderbergh's quieter moments (in retrospect, that feeling is probably due to Cliff Martinez scoring Narc plus eight of Soderbergh's features).
The blending of equal parts Tarantino and Soderbergh is reflected in Narc's two leads, as well. Henry Oak (Liotta, John Q.) is a fiery Detroit Metro homicide detective who'd sooner administer a vicious beating than leave things up to the legal system. On the flip side, undercover officer Nick Tellis (Patric, Your Friends and Neighbors) is introspective and tranquil. Yet despite their differences, each is, almost to a fault, dedicated to his job. Each also encounters certain and seemingly unrelated administrative problems shortly after Narc's blistering, mood-setting opening scene.
Tellis is serving the 18th month of what appears to be an endless suspension following a shootout that involved a stray bullet killing a civilian. Meanwhile, Oak's best friend, an undercover narcotics cop named Michael Calvess (Alan Van Sprang), has recently been murdered in a deal gone south. There isn't one lead, yet the brass won't let Oak near the investigation because of his "passionate" history. They do want Tellis to work the case, though, and offer him full reinstatement if he's able to nab the perp with enough evidence to convict.
Because he's married and has both a 10-month-old kid and a history of drug abuse in his past (Is this the sequel to Rush? He didn't iron those track marks away for nothing, you know), Tellis is reluctant to take anything but a desk job. He eventually succumbs to the temptation of once again receiving a full paycheck, but only if Oak is allowed to join his investigation. Before you know it, the duo are whipping us through the seedy parts of Detroit, which photographer Alex Nepomniaschy shoots to look just as cold and desolate as it did in 8 Mile (even though it's really Toronto here). I won't get too much into the story, but it does involve lots of gunplay, lots of violence, a pants-less snitch with an uncomfortable venereal disease, and a brief appearance by Busta Rhymes, who is barely recognizable whilst covered in blood. And screaming.
Aside from Chris Cooper in Adaptation, it'd be tough to name a better, flashier 2002 performance than the one Liotta logs in here. Having gained quite a few pounds (as well as lifts and padding) for the role, he wasn't immediately recognizable, and it quickly made me look at the actor in an entirely different light. Sure, he's done psycho before, but never psycho with this much depth (he's almost sympathetic, for pete's sake). Patric is almost Liotta's equal (acting, not physically - he looks like Lester to Liotta's Willie Tyler) and is damn mesmerizing when he isn't unintentionally making you laugh by looking just like Ben Stiller's retirement home slave driver from Happy Gilmore.
Here's the deal with Carnahan: He made a movie called Blood, Guts, Bullets and Octane for $8,000 a few years ago. It was a quiet indie hit and put him on the map as the next fill-in-the-blank (Tarantino, Kevin Smith, Robert Rodriguez) in terms of being an up-and-coming writer-director. Carnahan made Narc for more money, but the budget was still so tiny that he couldn't afford to develop his film and look at dailies during the 28-day shoot. If you happen to catch Tom Cruise's name in the credits, let it be known that he had nothing to do with the making of Narc. He did, however, help it gain exposure and a wider distribution. Even if Cruise's push doesn't help Narc find a theatrical audience, it's destined to be a cult video hit and will make his next project very eagerly anticipated.
1:44 - R for for strong brutal violence, drug content and pervasive language
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