It's times like these that I hate writing the movie column. Some movies are too good to be panned outright, but at the same time do everything in their power to annoy the viewer, which makes it harder than usual to pin down a thoughtful review of them. Unfortunately, ""The Truth About Charlie"" is one of those movies.
""The Truth About Charlie"" is director Jonathan Demme's remake of 1963's ""Charade,"" which featured Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn. Thandie Newton (""Mission: Impossible 2"") stars as Regina Lambert, a woman who returns from vacation to her Paris home to find that it has been stripped of all her possessions and that her husband has been murdered. Regina's life is thrown into confusion when she is informed of her late husband's secret life as a military special operative, and learns that his murder has left six million dollars missing. As she takes comfort in a friendly and mysterious new acquaintance (Mark Wahlberg), Regina struggles against a wave of strangers, looking for answers and desperately seeking out the missing fortune.
As interesting and mysterious as the story gets at times, the script is so hell-bent on throwing curves to the audience that it drags down the movie. With its countless red herrings and plot twists, the movie feels at times irretrievably contrived and convoluted. The most satisfying moment of the plot comes when all the loose ends are tied up, but it serves to emphasize the fact that the script dug a hole that could only be escaped by explicating every secret that the movie held. While the resolution is thrilling, it is most reminiscent of much, much better suspense thrillers like ""Memento"" and ""The Usual Suspects.""
Of course, the movie would not have seemed nearly so convoluted if not for the Demme's terrible direction. I don't understand how the man who directed ""Philadelphia"" could do so much to get in the way of his own movie. The pace is toyed with relentlessly. The camera work, which is clearly meant to seem innovative, is unsteady to say the least, and at times is downright nauseating. Demme works so hard at edgy and creative camera shots that he totally neglects traditional, straightforward camera work, which would have worked better with the intricate plot. Thandie Newton, Mark Wahlberg and the city of Paris in all its glory should be all the visual stimuli a director needs. And the excessive attention paid to extras and other irrelevant visual details only confuse an audience that is already struggling to deal with a poorly orchestrated plot.
Meanwhile, the cast is a tricky issue. I'm glad I've never seen ""Charade,"" because comparing Thandie Newton and Mark Wahlberg to Hepburn and Grant just doesn't seem fair, and the characters here are developed inconsistently enough to trip up even the best of actors. Newton offers a strong performance in the lead, even if the character wears out her welcome enough that one begins to forget Newton's considerable talent and beauty. Opposite her, Wahlberg, an actor I normally hold in decent regard, really seems to mail in his performance. Similarly, Tim Robbins seems simultaneously stiff and goofy in a straight role as a government agent guiding Regina. In contrast, Christine Boisson, an actress not usually seen by American audiences and not a star to European ones, brings great warmth, presence and complexity to the slightly less important character of the police commissioner investigating the murder.
""The Truth About Charlie"" by now might sound genuinely bad, which is not the case, but I can't help it. For whatever the movie does to entertain, it does much more to irritate, confuse and anger the audience. From the bizarre camera work to the European pop and new wave soundtrack, to the visual cameo of Demme's daughter, Ramona, and the inexplicably upfront cameo of French singer Charles Aznavour, the movie really comes off as Demme's exercise in amusing himself. I doubt that my readers will be nearly as amused.
