Road to Perdition

Ever since 1993’s “Last Action Hero” tanked and sent Arnold Schwarzenegger’s stock plummeting faster than that of Worldcom, one could be forgiven for having an inherent distrust of movies that self-consciously omit an obviously appropriate definitive article from their titles. “Road to Perdition” (not THE Road to Perdition, mind you) labors under this peculiar burden, but that’s not its only problem. Although it is blessed with a first-rate pedigree, the movie wants to be “important” so badly that it sets your teeth on edge. Some time ago, another critic (and I am sorry to say I don’t remember who it was) made a distinction between movies that are serious and those that are solemn. “Road to Perdition” is solemn to a fault, seeming to consider itself so imbued with profound themes that it can neglect some of the more basic necessities of moviemaking. The picture is well made, to be sure, beautifully photographed (by Conrad Hall), and full of stark, sepia toned images of Midwestern rainstorms, snow covered fields, and heavy, dark overcoats.

Unfortunately, not an ounce of humor or a gleam of light penetrates the murk. Tom Hanks plays Michael Sullivan, a Depression-era hit man, seemingly in indentured servitude to local gangster lord John Rooney (Paul Newman, playing with an Irish accent that, oddly, seems out of place, even though Rooney is Irish). When Rooney’s unstable son Connor (Daniel Craig) kills Sullivan’s wife and younger son over a business dispute, Sullivan vows revenge, and thus becomes a target himself. He and his older son, Michael, Jr. (Tyler Hoechlin), through whose eyes we see much of the story, must go on the run. Sullivan has to elude the fiendish and depraved assassin Maguire (Jude Law) while trying to avenge the death of his family.

What we are left with, at this point, is a chase picture, with the Sullivans on the road to Perdition (literally—it’s the name of a town), where they hope to find sanctuary. It is hard to fault Hanks’s performance. He doesn’t make any obvious mistakes, but his is really a supporting role pumped up into a leading one. While Hanks has a few shining moments, conveying volumes with a gesture or an expression, for the most part he has had the life sucked completely out of him. He tries so hard (and, I am guessing, is directed this way) to make Sullivan controlled and, yes, solemn, that it is hard to forge any emotional connection with him. Without this key link, it becomes increasingly difficult to take much interest in what happens, aside from the rather obvious inclination to root for the “good” hit man over the “bad” one. The filmmakers have managed the rather dubious achievement of placing Hanks, our most accessible movie star, completely out of reach. Newman, whose performance has been much hyped in the conventional press, is also directed to a standstill, crushed under the doleful weight of the movie.

Law, as the truly twisted Maguire, adds the only snap to the picture; but then, his is really the only original character. (Stanley Tucci, though, does deliver a very good cameo as Capone lieutenant Frank Nitti.) Director Sam Mendes and writer David Self (working from, I understand, a black-and-white “graphic novel”), seem to have forgotten what it is to entertain an audience. This is puzzling, particularly in the case of Mendes, who directed “American Beauty,” one of the best American pictures in recent memory. There he managed what was essentially a bleak tale of existential panic with such wit and style that you laughed through your mortification. While the talent behind “Road to Perdition” is evident, one cannot help but feel that the material got away from them. If the measure of a film is how successfully it achieves the goals it sets for itself, then “Road to Perdition” must be counted as an elegant, well-crafted failure. (7/20/2002)