`Absolute Power' thrills, but lacks artistic perfection

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by Peter Debruge

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Absolute Power has every element it should have to be a terrific movie: great actors, a compelling story (David Baldacci's novel-turned-screenplay by William Goldman) and superb direction. Yet somehow, the ingredients don't blend as perfectly as one might hope, making for a somewhat muddled finished project. The movie's biggest drawback is that it never really addresses the absolute corruption it advertises. It lacks the face-off between hero and villain, morality and power that worked so well in movies like Clear and Present Danger .

Clint Eastwood, directing the movie, proves just how hard it is to break convention in movie-making. We expect a political thriller like Absolute Power to start with a breath-taking action sequence. Instead, the camera, initially focusing on a collection of paintings, finds Eastwood sketching one of them (watch for Alison Eastwood's cameo as the patronizing art student) and follows him back to his house where he has a quiet dinner studying the day's sketches.

The uncomfortably slow opening scenes remind the audience of an underlying idea as they delicately build up toward the thief's burglary: Eastwood is an artist. No matter how many movies he has directed, most of his fans still think of him only as an actor.

Absolute Power is not the first movie in which Eastwood has cast himself as an artist. In The Bridges of Madison County , he played Robert Kincaid, a photographer. However, Absolute Power will probably be the first time his message really sinks in by effectively showing the duality of his character -- more artist than thief.

When breaking into millionaire Walter Sullivan's house, Luther Whitney's (Eastwood) actions are calm, calculated and precise. Whitney had carefully planned everything necessary for the burglary, expecting the Sullivans to be out of the country.

While raiding the valuables in the treasure room, Whitney is surprised by a drunken couple who stumbles into the bedroom. Hiding behind a two-way mirror, Whitney uncomfortably watches as the couple's rough foreplay escalates into violence. The instant that Whitney is about to intervene, two men appear from nowhere and kill the woman, who is trying to defend herself with a letter-opener.

Whitney realizes the importance of what he has just witnessed in the confusion that ensues. The man responsible for the woman's death is the president of the United States (Gene Hackman), the two men are Secret Service agents and the dead woman is Christy Sullivan, the wife of the president's strongest supporter.

While killing the woman could arguably have been legal in defense of the president's life, the chief of staff's decision to cover up the murder transforms the problem into a nightmare for all involved, especially Whitney, who finds himself framed for the murder.

As President Richmond, Hackman is a poorly-developed villain. It's almost unbelievable that a man so thoughtless and cruel could be supported by enough voters to win an election. To make matters worse, the role nearly cements Hackman into the typecast role he played in No Way Out , Unforgiven and The Quick and the Dead.

After the murder, the hypocritical Richmond holds a news conference in which he embraces Walter Sullivan and calls for a hunt to track down the murderer. Seeing the broadcast, Whitney is infuriated, but unsure of how he should handle the situation.

In the movie's most ingenious scene, the chief of staff dances with the president, thanking him for his generous gift. She discovers that the gift is really the necklace Christy Sullivan wore on the night of her murder and realizes Whitney sent the necklace. The couple debates how to handle the situation while smiling and pretending to laugh so spectators won't suspect. Eastwood's direction shines in moments like this.

But throughout the movie, Eastwood tones down the tension you would expect in such a thriller with personal scenes. The movie slows down to reflect on the understanding between police investigator Seth Parks (Ed Harris) and Whitney and the relationship between Whitney and the daughter he hardly knows. Such mellow moments make the intense scenes stand out much more. Shifting between the two brings us closer to the characters that Eastwood thinks should matter to us.

When Parks arranges for a meeting between Whitney and his daughter, Eastwood constructs a threatening atmosphere by combining the threat of multiple snipers and a platoon of policemen while a seemingly unsuspecting Whitney walks straight into the melee. Scenes such as this make the movie worthwhile, though they sometimes seem contrived.

Acting on passion only gets the characters in trouble, so the evident solution lies in a battle of wits. It is here that the movie succeeds. When a movie divulges all its cards at the beginning by showing the audience exactly what happened, it runs the risk of a weak ending. Besides, you can't just impale the president of the United States on a forklift or shred his body in a combine like villains in your average action movie. Absolute Power escapes these problems with a dark twist that delivers poetic justice perfectly.

The movie is definitely worth seeing and is interesting in the differences that separate it from the standard thriller. Unfortunately, despite its frequent displays of brilliance, the movie falls markedly short of what it aspires to be: an artistic thriller.

This item appeared in the Arts & Entertainment section of the February 21, 1997 issue.

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