The Spanish Prisoner
As Reviewed by James Brundage
I promised myself
I'd go on vacation. I promised myself I wouldn't watch a single
film while I was away. Come to think of it, I also promised
myself I wouldn't write a single movie review. Yet somehow here I
am, typing away. This is because, of course, of Truth About Life
#196: Not Rules, but Resolutions are meant to be broken.
Now nine times out of ten I end up regretting promises I break to
myself, but this time just happens to be different. Case in
point: The Spanish Prisoner.
I guess I could describe the Spanish Prisoner as the ghost of Alfred Hitchcock (alive and well inhabiting the body of director David Manet) come back to haunt us with an insane dark wit, a smart enigmatic mystery, and a surreal game of murder and falsehood. I needed my vacation. I needed a thriller I could enjoy without wanting to tear to shreads on the first try. In the words of the little girl in Poltergeist "It's he-re!"
I'd like to give you an opinion on the performance of Steve Martin in his first serious role. I'd like to give you an opinion on the innards of its plot. And, you know what, I'd really like to give you my ideas on the exacts of what happenned, let you in on the little tricks. But that's just mean. And, as a critic, I'm suppossed to be mean to the film... not to you. I can't tell you anything. Or rather I could, but then I'd have to kill you. Come on, it's a breech of rules: like holding up the peace sign all through the movie Scream or talking during the picture. You just don't do it.
I guess vacation would have to have the prerequisite of relaxation, which this movie isn't, keeping you smartly on the edge of your seat with something differrent each second, taking you in directions that you didn't really know existed and still ending up the same place half of the time. It's a ride. And not only is it a ride: It's a ride you take at Six Flags, travelling super-fast and not knowing where you are. But then you hit the end, and it's all explained. Or is it?
You know what? Why don't you find out?
Movie Reviews by James Brundage