In the pilot episode of the BBC television serial ‘Edge of Darkness’ from 1985, the father of a woman who has been gunned down is consoled by a co-worker. This co-worker herself breaks down and begins to cry. The father, police detective Thomas Craven, gently hugs her in return, but morosely asks her to stop crying, “otherwise we’ll all be at it.” This scene does not occur in the blockbuster film remake of the show, and if it did then star Mel Gibson would probably shoot the woman for getting in his way. Thomas Craven is no longer a downbeat stoic Northerner, but a brashly Catholic Bostonian. So too the story is no longer a meticulous revelation of human frailty and corruption, but a conspiracy thriller.
There is nothing inherently wrong with these changes, and the first hour or so of the film is strong. The relationship between Craven and his daughter is believable, his grief at her death effective, and the suggestion of corporate malfeasance intriguing. Director Martin Campbell was also behind the original show, and the introduction of both the Boston setting and writer William Monahan to the mix are successful. Themes of parentage and mortality surface, and a quiet conversation at a kitchen table is frankly superb.
Then, at around the halfway point, there is a shocking car accident which strains credulity to breaking point. From here, it’s only a matter of time before cabals of villains plot and scheme, friends become betrayers, and Craven goes renegade with just a gun and a snarl.
The shift in the final reel is so out of keeping with what has occurred before that it might yet be a big joke. Suffice to say, anyone struggling to conclude their own screenplays concerning labyrinthine mazes of incident and intent could take a leaf out of Monahan’s book, but only if they’re willing to write the phrase “then he gets shot in the head” a few dozen times. I have previously been a great fan of his work in ‘The Departed’ and ‘Kingdom of Heaven’, and while he sprinkles references to F. Scott Fitzgerald and Diogenes throughout ‘Edge of Darkness’, it’s clear Monahan has no handle on the story he’s telling or what it’s trying to say. The original was about British anxieties concerning nuclear power and the political manoeuvring of labour unions; what the 2010 version is about is anybody’s guess. (Perhaps the absurd illogic at the centre of the conspiracy is intentional, and the whole thing is actually a parody.)
Taken on its own terms, the film should perhaps be seen with an even dimmer view. Ray Winstone masters the sly black ops man he is given, but is then given nothing to do for much of the time. An awareness of the consequences of the frequent violent altercations is hinted at, but then never addressed. It is fair to assume that these problems stem from the re-shoots asked by the studio, which result in utterly pointless kidnappings and nauseating moral lurches. Yet, the studio is ‘Icon Productions’, whose figurehead is Mel Gibson – surely he knew what he was signing up for? Of all the praiseworthy things that can – and should – be claimed of the 1985 serial, that it has commercial viability and brand recognition surely are not among them.
Much like the Hollywood version of ‘State of Play’, another British television series, too much happens too fast and not a lot feels like it makes any sense, which is a consequence of condensing six hours of story into two, and adding gunfights. Perhaps it is time for traffic to move the other way, and for the BBC to create a compelling six-part drama from the screenplay for ‘Payback’, or a subdued political chamber-piece from ‘Commando’. Or maybe ITV could produce a 90-minute action film based on seasons 1 – 3 of ‘The Wire’.
At least such experiments would generate more of a reaction than stunned disappointment, ebbing away into resigned apathy.
