Hooked up to a lie detector machine in a darkened police interrogation room is Wayland
(Roth), the chief suspect in the grisly murder of a prostitute. (Her body was hacked
in half and deposited in different parts of the city.) The two detectives, Braxton
(Penn) and Kennesaw (Rooker), who are grilling Wayland admit they have "no evidence
-- just a rich, weird spastic." That kind of describes Deceiver; it's a tricky, stylish
mind game in which tables are constantly turning. The only problem is that the shifting
tables are lacking legs or any other visible means of support. In other words, the
film is a funhouse glut of style and ideas but a laughable exercise in detective
storytelling and thrilling psychological manipulation. Cast in the mold of The Usual
Suspects, the film is an intricate policier drenched with visual and narrative flourishes.
However, in Deceiver they amount to little more than mind games with the viewer.
The plot is pointlessly twisted, and hammers the suspect with questions that might
be more fruitfully answered through other means of investigation. But what a suspect
-- a brilliant, rich, unemployed, alcoholic, epileptic, absinthe drinker. Enough adjectives?
Wayland enjoys playing with the detectives' heads, and his strange behavior can be
chalked up to any number of possible causes. Deceiver is essentially a three-man
drama and Roth, Penn, and Rooker all deliver some of their highly dependable tough-guy
stylings. The film's notable crew of women fare less well: Zellweger has a nice turn
as the hacked-up hooker but her role is nevertheless a tired cliché; Burstyn
is thoroughly eccentric in appearance and mannerisms as the shadowy underworld boss
named Mook; and Arquette is once more underused as the sexually fractious wife of
Kennesaw. While the plot bounces about in needless convolutions that create the illusion
of things being more complicated than they are, the visual handiwork is a luau of
expressionistic extremism. Deceiver presents an escalating onslaught of violently
skewed angles, dark shadows, wild 360-degree camera moves (the camerawork is by Bill
Butler of Deliverance and One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest), flashbacks/fantasies
and split screen visions, and precious affections such as having every phone in the
movie inexplicably be an old rotary-dial model. The Pate brothers made a small splash
at Sundance a couple of years back with their debut film The Grave. With this sophomore
effort, these writer-director twin brothers show that their bag of tricks is indeed
impressively stocked. Now they need to learn how to operate the drawstring.
2.0 stars
--Marjorie Baumgarten
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