The Crying Game

With the dog days of summer upon us and C laying low with the flu (or cold or sinus infection), we have been largely confined to our condo since returning from New York two weeks ago. For the first time in recent history there are 3--count 'em 3!--movies playing in movie theaters that I actually want to see but our attendance at this time seems unlikely. Oh well, that's the way it goes. They don't call it the dog days of summer for nothin'. On the plus side, the Barnes and Noble/Criterion Collection was having one of their biannual sales and I couldn't resist picking out a few discs to add to my own library. 

My first choice was The Crying Game, a movie I hadn't seen since it was released back in 1992. I've aged a day since then but there is a shocking reveal a little past the movie's midpoint--I didn't forget that!--but I shall refrain from discussing it just in case there is a movie lover on earth who doesn't already know the twist. 

So, in the beginning there is Jody, an imposing, sweet-natured British soldier stationed in Ireland during the turbulent period known as The Troubles. Taking advantage of time off from his duties, Jody attends a local fair and meets a frisky blonde woman named Jude. Thinking he's about to get lucky, Jody allows himself to be led to an isolated spot underneath a bridge, where, after a few passionate kisses, Jude abruptly reveals that she is not who she appears to be. However, most of the characters in The Crying Game are pretenders harboring secrets that could get them--and others--killed. In this case, Jude is a member of an IRA cell whose plan is to kidnap a British soldier (Jody just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time) and hold him in exchange for one of their own incarcerated members. After Jude's cohorts pop out of the woodwork, they slap a black hood over Jody's head, bind his hands and throw him in the back seat of a car, bluntly explaining that if their demands aren't met within 3 days, he'll be executed. 

Later, in a remote shack in the woods, the still-hooded Jody is tied to a chair and left in the charge of Fergus, an IRA volunteer and flunky who allows himself to be berated and browbeaten by the other members of the cell. In fact, they've decided that Fergus will be the one who pulls the trigger on Jody if it comes to that. Despite this, the amiable Jody appeals to Fergus's kinder nature and an unlikely friendship develops. Aware that he will likely end up having to kill his prisoner, Fergus doesn't want to get too chummy, and yet he can't help sympathizing with the man: the more Jody talks, the more Fergus lets down his barriers and becomes conflicted by his mission. The man is more than a faceless pawn, more than a casualty of war: he's someone Fergus starts to care about. After removing Jody's hood, Fergus is confronted by the others who imply that now Jody has seen his face, drastic action may have to be taken. Worse, they've begun losing faith in Fergus and his ability (or willingness) to follow orders. Realizing that time is running out, Jody has Fergus take out his wallet and remove the photograph of a striking young woman he claims to love. Her name is Dil, Jody explains, and asks Fergus to look her up in London. "Tell her I was thinking of her when I died", Jody tells him.  Inevitably, the military operatives tasked with taking out the cell and rescuing Jody wind up killing him instead. Fergus watches from the woods as the gang's hideout is riddled with bullets and burned to the ground. Fleeing through the woods, Fergus manages to avoid the troops and makes his way to London. 

Out of the line of fire, Fergus has a few surprises in store for him, one being that not all his conspirators perished in the military ambush. The more immediate concern, perhaps, is the arresting woman in Jody's photo. All Fergus knows about Dil is that she frequents a lively pub called The Metro, and that he must find her and deliver Jody's message, if for no other reason than as an act of contrition for his own culpability in Jody's death. Of course, he must first establish a new identity and find a legitimate job in the city, which, conveniently, happens almost immediately. Locating Dil also turns out to be easier than expected. Fergus first spies her through a salon window cutting a client's hair. Once Fergus plops down into the same chair a few minutes later, Jody's last message is all but forgotten: he is completely bewitched by this sexy, glamorous creature who captured Jody's heart. So, he takes to stalking her. Not in a creepy way but still....  Dil is not oblivious to Fergus's attention and it isn't long before he's insinuated himself into her life. A romance, of sorts, begins to develop, although Dil is reluctant to sleep with Fergus because they're both keeping secrets and neither is too keen on them being revealed.  

As it happens, all is revealed and the pair suddenly find themselves in jeopardy when the survivor's of Fergus's crew show up locked and loaded and ready to rumble. To wit, they are not letting Fergus off the hook for his act of desertion. In order to prevent them from coming for Dil, Fergus must prove his loyalty to their cause by assassinating a British judge in broad daylight. Of course, it's a suicide mission--it's meant to be--but Fergus is willing to participate in order to save Dil. Unwise decisions are made by all and things go awry, setting the stage for a tense finale that wraps up with Lyle Lovett singing Tammy Wynette's Stand by Your Man. 

Despite its trappings as a neonoir crime thriller, The Crying Game is, at heart, an unconventional romance between two of cinema's most star-crossed lovers. Actor Stephen Rea has a hangdog, everyman quality that makes the audience sympathize with Fergus even if he's not initially a standup kind of guy. He wants to be a decent person, as demonstrated by his fast, weirdly authentic friendship with Jody. Rea's reactions to the gang's cruelty, and his efforts to comfort the doomed man feel honest and convincing as the transfer deadline winds down. He's also excellent when Fergus's original intentions towards Dil become less than honorable. You can feel the weight of Jody's message pressing down on Fergus but he can't help himself: he must have her. As for Dil, she's something of an enigma, and, as played by Jaye Davidson, chic, louchely alluring, unforgettable. With a curly mane of dark hair setting off an expressive, strangely beautiful face, Davidson is simply stunning--you can't take your eyes off her. Her ability to express emotions ranging from teasingly coy to righteous anger to neediness to desire belies the fact that The Crying Game was her film debut. In fact, Davidson previously worked in the fashion industry and had no acting experience at all. Following The Crying Game, Davidson performed in one more big-budget film, the sci-fi hit Stargate, before retiring from show business and returning to fashion. More the loss for movie fans. 

Forest Whitaker as Jody is both touching and vulnerable as a man who knows he probably won't get out of his situation alive yet remains determined to make the best of his time with Fergus. Their brief friendship is credible thanks to the innate goodness Whitaker brings to the character. On the flip side of the coin, there's Miranda Richardson, seething and deadly, as Jude, inarguably the most vicious member of the group. Richardson brings a scary intensity to the role of a woman so fanatically devoted to her convictions that she's lost all sense of her own humanity. As always, Richardson excels in a difficult role that could have come off as one-dimensional in the hands of a lesser actor. 

Ian Wilson's lovely cinematography brought me back to the great British films of the 60's, and helps ground the film's sense of history through steady, almost painterly visuals.  

The Crying Game was Neil Jordan's 8th film, but he'd recently directed a string of flops--High Spirits, We're No Angels, The Miracle--so he needed a hit. When he's good, Jordan is very, very good, and with The Crying Game he's at his peak. The film was a massive success with both audiences and film critics, alike, and it received Oscar noms for Jordan, Rea and Davidson, as well as for Best Picture and screenplay.  Following up this film with the Tom Cruise-led Interview With the Vampire likely didn't enhance Jordan's reputation as a film director but it did make a ton of money and still has its fair share of fans. Hard as that may be for me to wrap my head around. 

The Crying Game has a few moments that require a certain suspension of disbelief, but the film is so outstanding that it doesn't even matter. The chemistry between the lead characters is palpable, the performances well-calculated, and the screenplay so intense and woozily romantic that the viewer hasn't the time to question minor plot holes. Clearly not a "Hollywood" film, The Crying Game is a compelling story of obsession and death, and the love that lies in between. 

**The Crying Game--the song--is played no less than 3 times over the course of the film. Dave Berry's original hit highlights an early scene, Kate Robbins subs for Jaye Davidson's karaoke number at the local club, and Boy George closes out the film with his own version. The soundtrack also includes Percy Sledge singing When a Man Loves a Woman over the opening credits, Let the Music Play (Carroll Thompson), and The White Cliffs of Dover (The Blue Jays).