Dull Drama

SPINE-TINGLING MUSIC eerily permeates the scene. Slow, relentless footsteps pulse onward. Somewhere a shutter creaks in the wind. Suddenly, thunder splits the air. A flash of blinding lightning reveals a veiled figure, in its hand a weapon, a knife that brutally, inexpicably, and fatally goes slash in the night.

Most of us would recognize this scenario as the typical horror movie, the kind of film we see with the eager anticipation that it will reduce us to a quivering, blathering mass. Jagged Edge, a self-proclaimed "psychological-mystery-thriller" is a departure from that grade B, blood-and-guts genre--and a welcome one at that. Granted, there are some scenes that could send even the most professional reviewer of movies under her seat, but the real core of Jagged Edge is the mind-tangling question of "who done it?"

The film opens with the murder of Page Forrester (Maria Mayenzet), a rich socialite whose death transfers untold amounts of money and power to her husband Jack (Jeff Bridges.) Cynical readers, at this point, will immediately infer that Jack must have killed his wife. They will be convinced of this logical conclusion even further when they are told that a hunting knife identical to the murder weapon is conveniently located in Jack's locker at the country club. But it is not wise to be so smug about one's superiority as a sleuth when only the first 15 minutes of the movie have passed.

ENTER THE FIRST complication. Jack, a gruff, gentle-looking newspaperman, claims that he is innocent. Enter the second complication. Teddy Barnes (Glenn Close), a hotshot, tough-talking lawyer, believes that Jack is telling the truth, so convincing herself of his innocence that she falls in love with him. From this point the movie winds on, full of emotional tension: love entangled with mistrust and evidence confused with truth. The conclusion, of course, must be kept a secret. The only guarantee is that it will be a complete surprise to all.

Although Jagged Edge avoids most of the blatancy of the more mundane, graphic thrillers, it still seems an unlikely vehicle for both Jeff Bridges and Glenn Close. These are actors we tend to identify with soul-searching, sensitive movies--movies that demand some amount of psychological development from their characters. Jagged Edge is somewhat overly plotted, too crowded with testimony and surprise twists in the story to allow for the characters themselves to go through much personal transformation.

Bridges suffers more than Close from this unlikely casting. He never lets us see more of Jack than a blunt and sometimes disconcertingly manipulative veneer, as if he were rather uncomfortable with the role of an accused murderer. This suppression of identity in some ways adds to the suspense of the movie. Bridges lets us know so little of Jack's true motives and feelings that we cannot decide with certainty his guilt or innocence. At the same time, however, by not being generous with his character, Bridges tends to cut off our sympathy for Jack, and even to make us wonder why Close, playing a scrupulously ethical lawyer, would become romantically involved with him.

As defense attorney Teddy Barnes, Close is too conscientiously playing a stereotypical role. Because she is a good enough actress, Close can mimic with precise, convincing detail the actions of an aggressive, competent lawyer. But she is best, and perhaps most relaxed, when a moment of real inner, psychological drama is required of her. Near the end of the film, Close must confront the murderer herself. The moment she realizes this, a horrible, numbing serenity overcomes her. It is as if she has transcended hope and fear. And finally, it is as if she is freed from the limiting claustrophobia of her role.

THE SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS with which Close approaches her character is also a problem with Jagged Edge as a whole. Not only does it abound with stylized, stock characters, but with a profusion of pointed, heavily emphasized pauses and gratingly poignant moments when the characters exchange glances. But whatever the reason, this lack of artistic daring makes the film often static and heavy-handed where it could be spontaneously dramatic.

The most successful aspect of Jagged Edge is the rigor with which it keeps us guessing. We are manipulated throughout the film in such a way that our uncertainty is kept tantalized until, literally, the last few seconds of the last scene. It is this reliance on mental, rather than physical, discomfort that allies Jagged Edge more closely with Hitchcock than with Halloween.

Finally, a special mention must go to Robert Loggia. In the role of Sam Ransom, a private investigator, he is direct, foul-mouthed, and undeniably charming. Just as Jagged Edge threatens to take itself too seriously, Loggia breezes in with Sam's own perverse and sanely brusque opinion of the murderer and his crime: "Fuck him," he comments, dismissing in one succinct phrase every emotionally contrived moment in the movie.