City of Lies (2021) * *

 

Directed by: Brad Furman

Starring:  Johnny Depp, Forest Whitaker, Shea Whigham, Neil Brown, Jr., Dayton Callie

Brad Furman's City of Lies delves into the unsolved murder of Chris Wallace (aka The Notorious B.I.G.), the famous rapper shot and killed in the wee hours of the morning of March 9, 1997.  This was nearly six months after Tupac Shakur's slaying on the Las Vegas strip.  The media speculated an "East Coast/West Coast" feud between rivaling artists.  Detective Russell Poole (Depp) is assigned to the case and finds he is stonewalled because some LAPD cops moonlight for Death Row executive Marion "Suge" Knight and Notorious B.I.G.'s death opens a Pandora's Box of LAPD corruption.

City of Lies opens nearly twenty years after Wallace's shooting, with Poole still trying to piece together who shot Wallace.  He kept a promise to Wallace's mother Voletta (playing herself) to solve the murder, even after he was kicked off the case and forced to retire.  Poole teams up with journalist Jack Jackson (Whitaker), who is writing a historical article on Wallace and finds himself trying to solve the murder as well.   Was Poole ousted because he was coming too close to the truth which would blow the lid off of the department's corruption?  They've already taken a hit with Rodney King, OJ Simpson, and the Rampart investigations.  Being implicated in Wallace's death would be one more turn of the screw.

Despite the strong performance by Depp as a dogged, but world-weary former detective, and some solid supporting work, City of Lies buckles under its own weight.  It doesn't crackle with intensity like a superb police procedural should.  It never lifts off, even though the public remains interested in the high-profile unsolved murder.  How is it Wallace's killing is still not solved nearly thirty years later?  City of Lies believes it has the answer, but it scarcely brings those answers to life.  

Here (2024) * * *

 

Directed by:  Robert Zemeckis

Starring:  Tom Hanks, Paul Bettany, Robin Wright, Kelly Reilly

Robert Zemeckis' Here is an experiment in which a camera is planted in a spot and documents what happened in that spot throughout history.  The movie starts with the dinosaurs up to the present day, with multiple stories zig-zagging through time.  The bulk of Here takes place in a living room in a suburban Pennsylvania house.  Across the street is an old colonial home once owned by Benjamin Franklin, and the land on which these homes are built are ancient Native American tribal lands.  We meet the owners from the 1910's through the 2020 COVID pandemic.   My girlfriend told me that the movie reminded her of Disney World's Carousel of Progress only with sad parts.  It is an astute observation, and Here manages to be more than that.  Some parts are hokey, but others earn the audience's emotional response.

Here's main storyline focuses on the Young family, with WWII veteran Al Young (Bettany) and his wife Rose (Reilly) buying the home shortly after the end of the Second World War.  They settle into suburban life, raising three children with the oldest being Richard, who will grow up to be played by Tom Hanks.  Hanks is a gifted artist, but at eighteen knocks up his high-school sweetheart Margaret (Wright) and marries her.  Richard abandons his plans at an art career to raise his daughter in his father's home.  Meanwhile, Margaret laments the sacrifices she made for her family and verbalizes them at her 50th surprise birthday party. 

After a shaky start, I began to appreciate Here's sweep through time.  Zemeckis' style doesn't dominate the story and the characters.   Hanks and Wright, even de-aged, are still effective while harkening back to their pairing in Forrest Gump.  Could I have done without the time-jumping aspect?  Yes, a linear story framing would've worked well, but I was still moved by what's presented in the film.