Dirty Pretty Things is the kind of movie that critics rave
about but real audiences don’t care for. Yet I’m a film critic so
as common knowledge goes I should know better. But I really don’t think
this is a movie worth anyone’s time (often I feel that my peer critics
endorse the high pedigree stuff just so they can sound like they know what they’re
talking about). Even if it was nominated for an Academy Award for best original
screenplay, my feeling is that all the voters should have retracted their ballots
and voted for Mike White’s School of Rock screenplay
instead (Oh, how undervalued good comedy often is).
Pretty isn’t the word you would want to use to describe Dirty
Pretty Things. It’s gritty, dirty and over-exaggerated stuff.
This macabre London drama is grisly and unpleasant, but since it’s a Stephen
Frears film (best known for The Grifters and Dangerous
Liaisons) it really sells itself as an intelligent shocker. But it’s
really brainy treatment of an implausible story. Sure, it’s made by a
team of prestigious filmmakers that have much preoccupied “social”
observation on their minds, but it doesn’t mean that their canned speechifying
should be edified.
The story follows the mishaps of the soft-spoken Okwe, a once respected doctor
in Africa who flees to London to escape the events of his past, reduced to taking
work as a cab driver and hotel clerk. He finds a human heart inside one of the
hotel rooms and learns that a black market for human organs is discreetly under
operation at his workplace. Expect shots of squishy organs, the obligatory blood,
and lots of seedy lowlifes who will sell anything for a buck.
Frears is mostly interested in creating believable characters and with making
perceptive comments about the immigrant experience. His film is also about the
dangers of unclean medical practices. Some of this stuff has merit. Entertaining?
Not really, I mean flat-out no. Occasionally, when there’s a close-up
shot of an organ or something a little bit nasty you can feel your pulse move.
Most of the time, the pedestrian pace of the movie makes your pulse flat-line.
On the DVD, Frears’ dehydrated director’s commentary doesn’t
help much either in pumping any life into his story.
How about the actors? Unfortunately, most of the supporting players are more
interesting than the lead. There’s the Asian morgue guy who is more knowledgeable
and well-read than his profession requires, the black prostitute who makes better
friends with the hotel clerks than with her customers, and with Senay (Audrey
Tautou, demonstrating her range with this performance contrast to her hit film
Amelie two years ago) as the best friend who is willing to
do anything to get a green card so she can go to America. But with Okwe (played
nicely, maybe too nicely placid by Chiwetel Ejiofor), he is a hard-to-tell mystery.
The particulars of Okwe as a character are so secretively hushed for the first
half of the film it’s frustrating. The actor lends no gravity to the story
with this dense, opaque approach to his performance. Once we learn enough about
who his character is (his family background, his medical experience, his likes
and dislikes) than at least it’s easier to understand his motivations
and slightly possible to become minimally interested in the film. The end result
is an OK movie, but it’s nothing to get into a bloody frenzy over like
some critical notices will have you believe. Yet in my book, OK movies should
not be worth your time (Exception: an OK James Bond movie may be worth your
time, or a bad Jim Carrey movie can be worth your time, too, only because we
care to see certain franchises or actors go through any mediocre transition
no matter what.) Final note: the “Behind-the Scenes” look in the
special features is a routine making-of documentary. Movie: ** Extras: **
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