Based on the book by James Ellroy, Brian De Palma’s film with Scarlett Johansson, Hilary Swank, Josh Hartnett and others draws on the film noir tradition.
By: Bob Brown
Nearly 60 years after Elizabeth Short’s neatly bisected corpse was discovered in a weedy Los Angeles lot, her brutal murder remains a mystery. James Ellroy’s novel The Black Dahlia is one of no fewer than 11 books on this unsolved crime. Director Brian De Palma’s film, adapted from the book, is one of three features based loosely on the case. Besides the low-budget Black Dahlia Movie (2006) from Ramzi Abed, another is True Confessions (1981), from John Gregory Dunne’s novel of the same name.
If Elizabeth Short had not been a striking brunette with a troubled past, interest in the case might have faded long ago. So it seems to be with notorious crimes. As soon as FBI fingerprint files turned up her identity and a photo, Los Angeles media hopped on the story. They were instrumental in promoting the grisly details. Pictures of the crime scene appeared in the papers the next day. Accounts of Short’s supposedly sordid history, what little could be known, trickled into headlines all over the country. The Los Angeles Police Department hungered for leads. They fed the papers and were fed in turn when any fresh information appeared.
This media feeding frenzy for sensational crime stories in large part contributed to film noir’s ascendancy in the 1940s. De Palma’s film draws on this cinematic tradition. So did Curtis Hanson’s L.A. Confidential (1997), another film based on another Ellroy novel. But the difference between these two films is instructive. Hanson’s taut screenplay, co- authored with Brian Helgeland, won an Oscar. It’s doubtful that Josh Friedman’s jumbled screenplay for The Black Dahlia will earn a trip to the podium.
The film is confusing. Clarity is no hallmark of the genre, so confusion alone should not fault it. The Big Sleep (1948), in its theatrical release, is practically indecipherable (the result of post-production re-shoots and editing). But it is nonetheless fascinating, owing in large part to the characters and dialogue.
The Black Dahlia doesn’t measure up in either department. To make a novel out of police reports, you’ve got to manufacture connective tissue that may not be there. That goes double for the movies, where the plot must play out in 120 minutes (or 121 in De Palma’s case).
The focus is on two cops, partners on the force and in a boxing ring. Lee Blanchard (Aaron Eckhart) is a cop with connections to shady operators and a blonde bombshell, Kay Lake (Scarlett Johansson), with whom he shares everything but her bed. Lee’s sparring partner for a fund-raising exhibition match is former boxer Bucky Bleichert (Josh Hartnett), who joins Lee on the force. While they are busting a crime ring, the two stumble onto a brutal slaying right out back.
An unidentified woman, sliced from ear to ear, drained of her blood and separated in two, is found lying in a field. When her identity is discovered, Lee becomes emotionally unhinged and begins acting impulsively. Bucky tries to calm the frightened Kay, who thinks that Lee may not be able to protect her from her former pimp, Bobby DeWitt. Bobby is a vicious thug about to be released from the cooler. Kay’s backside bears his crudely carved initials.
Meanwhile, the investigation turns up Madeleine Linscott (Hilary Swank), daughter of nouveau riche L.A. land developer Emmett Linscott (John Kavanagh). Madeleine likes to slum about as a tramp, much as her near look-alike, the late Elizabeth Short. Bucky, who has denied himself the offered charms of Kay ("Lee is my partner"), has no trouble bedding the looser Madeleine. She must know something of Elizabeth’s death, but what’s she hiding?
The names and plot threads are fired off in such rapid bursts that it’s hard to recover them all. Just when you think you’ve figured out who so-and-so is, the action takes another tack. What’s worse, Lee and Bucky’s connection is never satisfactorily portrayed. They don’t click as partners. More surprising is Kay’s emotional flatness as a character. Johansson’s limited range is uncomfortably exposed in this role. They just aren’t making Lauren Bacalls anymore.
Somewhat better is Swank, an actress with incredible range elsewhere. But her character is squeezed into a plot with such double-back flips that she’s hard to figure. Most satisfying in a minor but crucial role as Madeleine’s bored and tipsy mother is Fiona Shaw. When she’s on, the scene lights up.
The score by Mark Isham (The Cooler) is in keeping with the dark noirish mood, as is cinematography by Vilmos Zsigmond (Melinda and Melinda). In this film, contrary to fact, the murder has a solution. Somehow, the Short mystery is more engrossing than this long fiction. If you like real intrigue, read the FBI’s case files, which are available on the organization’s Web site.
Rated R for strong violence, some grisly images, sexual content and language.

