Tuesday, December 16, 2014


Writes Andrew O'Hehir in Salon/

Nightcrawler,” the aptly titled directing debut of veteran Hollywood screenwriter Dan Gilroy, may be a little too sleazy and knowing for its own good. After watching Jake Gyllenhaal’s intense and unsettling performance as a sociopathic TV news cameraman chasing the most gruesome late-night stories across Los Angeles, you may need a shower, a Valium and a triple shot of whiskey, without feeling entirely sure you want to wake up the next day. But while “Nightcrawler” plays first and foremost as a lurid, borderline-satirical thriller about a disturbed individual who pushes the disturbed logic of 21st-century media to its ultimate conclusion, Gilroy clearly has some larger questions in view, along with a cinematic legacy that includes “Taxi Driver,” “Network” and Michael Powell’s 1960 shocker “Peeping Tom,” a movie whose influence only continues to grow.

This movie is something of a family affair: Dan Gilroy’s older brother Tony, the director of “Michael Clayton” and “The Bourne Legacy,” helped produce this film (as did Gyllenhaal), and Dan’s twin brother, John Gilroy, is the editor. Admittedly we have a small sample size to work with, but the Gilroy trademark appears to be hard-edged, actor-driven genre films with a social conscience. Certainly what Dan Gilroy gets from Gyllenhaal here may be the best performance of a fascinating career. Since at least “Donnie Darko” Gyllenhaal has understood that he reads on-screen as obsessive, eccentric and overly intense. While those qualities can be rendered somewhat sympathetic — as in “Love and Other Drugs,” his underappreciated rom-com with Anne Hathaway — they’re often best suited to characters who seem detached and disordered, like the twitchy cop he played in “Prisoners” (pretty nearly the only thing that made that movie watchable).

Lou Bloom, the autodidact newshound of “Nightcrawler,” carries the misanthropy and pathology of the Gyllenhaal persona to new heights. Lou is a lank-haired, hollow-eyed person who has mastered the script of human communication, up to a point, without any sense of its underlying meaning. As the film begins he is unemployed, a scavenger and low-level thief scraping out a marginal living by his wits and a litany of business-school, self-help nostrums he has apparently learned from the Internet. (“I’ve made up my mind to find a career I can learn and grow into. Who am I? I’m a hard worker. I set high goals. I have been told that I am persistent.”) As Lou might put it, when he finds out that you can make good money by being the first person with a video camera on the scene of a gruesome crime or gory accident, he is delighted to discover a career path so well suited to his skill set, core competencies and sense of personal initiative.

It would be grossly overstating the case to say that Lou is ever likable, but at least he seems pathetic, a Gollum-like alienated soul who has stumbled upon an occupation that may be distasteful but is not flat-out immoral or illegal. With his seductive night shots of L.A.’s freeways and boulevards — the cinematography is by ace Robert Elswit, who shoots Paul Thomas Anderson’s films — Gilroy lures us into a deceptive power relationship not unlike the one Lou strikes up with Nina, the hard-boiled TV producer played by Rene Russo (who is Gilroy’s wife). At first Nina feels the same mingled pity and distaste for Lou that we do. She’s a news professional with a stylish wardrobe and a helmet-like coiffure, focused on the ratings book and her benefits package; he’s a socially marginal loser with an evident personality disorder. But Nina also sees that Lou has the right sensibility for her bottom-feeding, sleazoid news broadcast, which thrives on stories about “crime creeping into the suburbs” – middle-class whites or Asians victimized by brown-skinned people – and “relatable” families dying in gruesome freeway crashes.

Furthermore, Nina and Lou both understand that the narrative of racial paranoia they’re spreading is profoundly untrue, however much it speaks to a divided city on a symbolic level. In one of their increasingly tense negotiating sessions, Lou observes that crime rates are dropping in L.A. (as in other major cities), which makes his fear-inducing, adrenaline-spiking footage an especially valuable commodity. No doubt this is an overly broad interpretation of a movie that’s mainly meant to mess with your mind, but I can’t resist: News shows like Nina’s, aimed at older, whiter viewers uncomfortable with social and demographic change, have become propaganda broadcasts that keep the public terrified and docile, even though there’s no Goebbels-like genius pulling the strings behind the scenes. (As the comments on every Salon story about the Ferguson shooting and related phenomena will demonstrate, racist crime paranoia is deeply ingrained on the Internet, even in an age of near-historic lows in violent crime.)

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