Nightmare Alley

Someone called 2021's NIGHTMARE ALLEY, director Guillermo del Toro's adaptation of William Lindsay's novel, "noir-stalgia."  Ha.  Clever.  The first filmization came in 1947 with Tyrone Power in the lead; it was certainly a noir.  I even read that del Toro has released a black and white version of his film.  I'm curious, though his use of color is so vivid here it makes all of his previous vivid films look sterile.  This is a lusciously filmed drama, a true marvel of production design (Tamara Deverell) and cinematography (Dan Laustsen), under del Toro's loving direction, announcing that this is a movie in every scene.  But one that stalls dramatically too often.

This is the portrait of a dyed-in-the-wool conman named Stanton Carlisle (Bradley Cooper) who joins a traveling carnival, assisting the husband and wife team of Zeena (Toni Collette) and Pete (David Strathairn) with their ersatz mind reading/clairvoyant act.  They begin to teach him their methods, ones they had employed long ago in better years in better venues.   He soon eyes the pretty Molly (Rooney Mara) who performs her own carny bit as a human electrical conductor.  Stanton dreams big and asks her to run away with him to do their own thing in the big city, a notion hastened after he accidentally kills Pete by handing him a bottle of wood instead of grain alcohol in a hasty, awkwardly handled scene done much better in the '47 movie.   At least del Toro spares us that clumsy "marriage" scene.

Fast forward two years.  Success follows as Stanton perfects the act with his bride.  But he will meet and be seduced by the beguiling Dr. Lilith Ritter (Cate Blanchett), a scheming psychologist with influential friends - potential marks for this newly minted grifter duo.  It does not end particularly well for Mr. Carlisle. 

The screenplay by de Toro and Kim Morgan needed some revision and tightening.  Despite the introduction of Blanchett's fascinating character, the middle section of NIGHTMARE ALLEY plods along, leading to a bloated two and one half hour runtime.  Maybe del Toro couldn't resist jettisoning any of his gorgeous sets.  But by the time we meet Ezra Grindle (Richard Jenkins), a rather frightening zillionaire with a lot of baggage, the film has lost its novelty and narrative drive.  Prolonged plotting that simply wasn't necessary to be milked as long as it was.  

Fact is, with both this and the earlier movie, it might've all been more interesting if it had remained within the confines of the carnival.  Drama without fat, you might say.

The cast is wonderful.  Always great to see Strathairn and Jenkins. Nice turns by Willem Dafoe and Ron Perlman.   Cooper is fine, though at times he oddly seemed to be channeling Bruce Willis.  But his final scene, the one that closes the movie, is impressive.  And far less hopeful than what was seen in director Edmund Goulding's adaptation.