According to movie thriller logic, "Trust no one" is more than a cliche -- it is an essential personal philosophy. If a protagonist opens his heart, his wallet or his fly to anyone, he is liable to be stalked, framed and have either his cat or his girlfriend butchered.
You would think movie protagonists would learn, but there they are, throwing their arms around sexy strangers and innocently spilling their guts and their business proposals to co-workers.
Given the lack of strong entries in the "innocent man getting slammed" genre, "The Spanish Prisoner," written and directed by playwright David Mamet ("Glengarry Glen Ross"), comes as a huge relief. It's a smart, tense story, well told and well acted. "Stylish", a word applied too frequently to describe motion pictures, is actually relevant here. This film is striking in terms of the construction of the story -- it's built like a fortress, dense and inscrutable -- rather than for its visual flourishes.
What I can give away of the story without spoiling it for anyone is as follows: hard-working and ultra-serious Joe Ross (Campbell Scott) meets mysterious rich man Jimmy Dell (Steve Martin) on a company trip. Joe has come up with an invention, simply called "The Process," that should reap his company enormous profits. But the company itself neither appreciates him nor expresses their exact intentions on how to reward him. Jimmy becomes Joe's trusted friend, and the film grows increasingly complicated from there.
Also mysteriously lurking around in the picture is Susan Ricci (Rebecca Pidgeon), an upfront and definitely odd secretary -- the type that goes through life constantly looking like she's hatching a mischievous plan. Pidgeon's performance is definitely unique and untraditional, but it's surprisingly engaging and memorable, more so than Scott's somewhat stoic delineation.
Unsurprisingly, the age old issue of who to trust is a major topic here, but the character of Joe is more complex than the typical schmoe (no pun intended). Joe is seen as a compulsive truster, if he's at odds with one individual or organization, he's knocking on someone else's door asking for guidance, revealing intimate details, making mistakes.
Joe's perspective on the world, instead of opening up to meet the new challenges he faces, remains the same. Instead of being boring, this approach serves to reveal more about him. It becomes apparent that Joe doesn't have the ability to adapt, and the audience is never asked to relate to him sympathetically -- he's a terrifically un-emotional character.
Played convincingly by Scott, the most Joe can muster up in the face of adversity is a passionless "How could they?" or "How could you?" He's a decent fellow and there's nothing horrible that can be said about him, but his niceness and politeness are the building blocks of his identity. His gestures lack conviction.
In this way, the highest complement the film pays Joe is a back-handed one. In a thriller, you expect the hero to have some fire or wit, some immediately likable quality. Joe's defining characteristic is that he has good manners. Placing such a charisma-less character in the center of all of this intrigue complicates our feelings about the events themselves, allowing us to reflect on them more objectively and see their humor.
Mamet, a famed playwright and screenwriter known for his notorius use of four-letter words in works such as "Glengarry Glenn Ross" and "American Buffalo," actually abstains from profanities, turning in one of his few PG movies.
Throughout the film, we get the sense of a world spreading and becoming more dangerous while one man stands insecurely in the middle of it. Joe is at the whim of his surroundings, and the question of "who to trust?" is answered with a blunt "does it matter?" The world will have its way with Joe regardless.
Even if Joe is the butt of an elaborate cosmic joke, it is to the film's credit that it doesn't try to pull one over on audiences as well. We're in on the humor, and the punchline elicits more than just a knee slap, it allows for more unsettling feelings to linger around long after the joke has been made.
