Lakeview Terrace (2008, Neil Labute)

I appreciate Neil Labute. Nurse Betty and, God save us, The Wicker Man besides, the man's been responsible for some of the most caustic, gloriously uncomfortable treatises on how people talk to and treat each other since, I dunno, Mike Nichols; his In the Company of Men introduced the world to Aaron Eckhart, and The Shape of Things might be the most underestimated, painful relationship dramas since Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?. (Or better, Carnal Knowledge.)

But this makes Lakeview Terrace Labute's second movie in a row to divert from his tried-and-true path (insert cruel mocking at Wicker Man's expense here). Fortunately, Labute is mostly successful here, albeit rather strange, soliciting shudders more often than he sparks debate, and thankfully moving away from importing his debatable misogyny into a genre flick (which he did, rather uncomfortably, with the unnerving gender politics of The Wicker Man; seriously, how stupid-- now Drew, that's the wrong review entirely. focus).

The idea is that Patrick Wilson and Kerry Washington are new in town; the loud one himself, Samuel L. Jackson, is Abel, a judgemental neighbor, visibly derisive of the racial treason Wilson and Washington have committed by being married, and in his neighborhood to boot. But Abel's also a cop, and that presents the new homemakers with a brand new set of issues-- indeed, there's some interesting (if inadvertent) points to be made about endowing such shady characters with near-limitless power, something I've been awfully skeptical about for years.

What's interesting is that Labute borders on exploitation flick with this one-- the social context appears to inform the story, as opposed to the other way around. That could be the way it was written, as the script appears to be pretty basic in its servicing of Abel's unmitigated social prejudices. There's interesting stuff to be found in some heated state-of-the-union conversations between Wilson and Washington, and a discarded throwaway line in which Abel's own daughter admits to having a crush on a white guy. But for the most part, Abel's racism seems to exist to propel the story forward-- he could, really, have any vendetta towards the couple, and the movie wouldn't be much different. (It would also be Cape Fear.) This is only disappointing on a cursory level, though-- where Labute fails in making the film weighty, he succeeds in making it very, very entertaining.

Much of this has to do with the cast. My eye's on Patrick Wilson-- I'm already a tentative fan, after a great leading-man turn in another dysfunctional-suburbia drama, Little Children, and his guns-blazing, vein-popping performance as a tortured pedophile in Hard Candy. (I am, of course, forgiving his roles in Evening and Phantom of the Opera. Even my beloved De Niro was in 15 Minutes.) And he's very good here, displaying a lot of reluctant masculinity, looking as though a simple script change could unhinge him irreperably. Characters pushed to the breaking point are always interesting, and Wilson displays a lot of humanity here, and if the movie denies him the chance to truly go balls-out, then that's the script's fault. Washington is great with what she's given to work with, which is a pretty traditional woman-in-peril role; but she's got this terrific, naturalistic way about her, something that she's been able to parlay into scene-stealing small turns in very big movies. This is a rare headlining role and she's very good.

Of course, it's Sam's show, and he's in full-on Pulp Fiction mode as a terrifying prophet, spitting his opinions as though they're the gospel truth. The film wouldn't work if Abel weren't as forceful, and so an actor with a persona as strong as Jackson's was necessary; Sam Jackson gets derided as often as he gets lauded, and it's important to note that every once in a while, he swings for the fences and becomes indespensible. Such is the case with Lakeview Terrace-- no Sam, no Lakeview Terrace. Simple as that. He displays moments of startling vulnerability-- a bar confessional scene with Wilson's character doesn't exonerate him, but brings a lot of necessary depth to the character, and Jackson plays it beautifully-- as well as moments that bring Jackson to the fore as ghoulist cypher. In particular, there's a phenomenal shot of Jackson silhoutted against an ash-orange sky that recalls similar shots of De Niro in Scorcese's Cape Fear-- these moments illustrate just how effective a thriller Lakeview Terrace is, and how it works in spite of it's ambivalent treatment of the societal issues at hand. But Samuel is note-perfect here, a career-defining performance, effectively warding off all those anything-for-a-paycheck criticisms by being so genuinely fantastic (he did this with Black Snake Moan, too).

So ably performed and shot is Lakeview Terrace that, if you can ignore the fact that it's relevancy is mostly pretty slapdash, it's an incredibly entertaining little scorcher. The moments of suspense are tantalizing; the moments of confrontation explosive. It's very, very good. Welcome back, Labute.

Rating: **** (out of five)