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Lonely Hearts
Lonely Hearts resurrects one of the more notorious couplings in the history of American crime, but its real interest lies elsewhere. Martha Beck and Raymond Fernandez, the so-called "lonely hearts killers," murdered perhaps as many as 17 women in the late 1940s. That's potent stuff for a movie, but writer-director Todd Robinson gives Martha and Ray only perfunctorily noir treatment
The filmmaker is more successful fleshing out the police officer who is hot on the lovers' trail. And no wonder. Elmer Robinson, a doleful homicide detective in Long Island, New York, was Todd Robinson's grandfather.
Lonely Hearts unfolds after the gun-assisted suicide of Elmer's wife years earlier, a violent image that weighs heavily on him. That loss, along with the ugliness he encounters daily as part of his job, has taken its toll on Elmer's strained relationship with his girlfriend (Laura Dern) and teenaged son (Dan Byrd). Elmer is brooding and tight-lipped, and he is nominally more forthcoming with his hardboiled precinct partner Charlie (James Gandolfini). The detectives investigate what appears to be an open-and-shut suicide; Elmer, whose pain has made him particularly empathetic with crime victims, insists there is more to the case than meets the eye.
And he is right. As it turns out, the woman had been the victim of a scam by Ray Fernandez (Jared Leto), a hollow-eyed snake of a gigolo who specializes in romancing, and subsequently fleecing the bank accounts, of love-starved women in "lonely hearts" clubs. With his pencil-thin mustache and bald pate, Ray might be a bargain-basement Charles Boyer, but a trusty toupee helps provide him enough self-confidence to woo an assortment of widows, spinsters and shut-ins. He finds a soulmate (the soulless kind, anyway) in Martha Beck (Salma Hayek), a would-be mark who quickly figures out Ray's con and likes what she sees. The two embark on a cross-country streak in which Ray seduces lonely hearts to rob them of their life savings -- and, occasionally, their lives.
Martha and Ray have been grist for movies before. Perhaps most famous is Leonard Kastle's The Honeymoon Killers, some exceedingly low-rent pulp from 1970 that occasionally percolated with sadistic flair. Lonely Hearts is easily the more accomplished picture, but, paradoxically, it's also the less compelling of the two.
One reason is that Todd Robinson has taken considerable liberties with the true-crime tale. Unlike Salma Hayek's sexy turn in the film version, the real Martha Beck was obese and intensely insecure. Similarly, the real Ray Fernandez didn't go gunning down a police officer or an elderly vendor who refuses to sell his dog. The dynamics of the actual lonely-hearts killers are fascinating; it's baffling as to why the filmmakers chose to prettify Martha and Ray, transforming them into pallid neo-noir concoctions.
Consequently, these villains seem artificial, uninteresting, a pastiche of Bonnie and Clyde types. There are occasional flashes of grotesqueries, however, that demand one's attention. In one scene, for instance, a jealous Martha takes a hammer to the head of a woman who is straddling Raymond and in the throes of sexual ecstasy. The grievously injured woman flops off the bed and crumples to the floor; Martha, without missing a beat, climbs atop Raymond and finishes the job. Hmm.
That's twisted inspiration, alright, but the bulk of Lonely Hearts suffers from a hermetically sealed quality. Like too many noir-revival flicks, it sweats the details so much that it largely forgoes the compelling ambivalence that permeated classic noir. Charlie's world-weary voiceover (he and Elmer "turned more collars than a Chinaman's dry cleaners") smacks of preciousness, and the period detail, while meticulous, feels as lifeless as a wax museum.
The acting is a mixed bag. Travolta does a fine job -- he doesn't even sound like himself -- as the melancholy detective haunted by demons both personal and professional. Leto has some malicious fun as Ray, and Scott Caan (close to a dead ringer for his dad, James Caan) is memorable as one of Elmer's cocky colleagues. But other performances are spotty. Hayek is more than easy on the eyes, but she isn't terribly believable as an archetypal femme fatale. And poor James Gandolfini, God bless him, channels Tony Soprano as a Forties-era copper.
The DVDThe Video:
The transfer, in anamorphic widescreen 2.35:1, is near-pristine quality, with vivid details and bathed in dark, earthy tones.
The Audio:The Dolby Digital 5.1 is unremarkable, but the sound is full and clean.
Extras:The sole extra is a standard-issue Making of Lonely Hearts (11:43) that boasts interviews with cast and crew. Neither Robinson nor producer Boaz Davidson bothers to address their revision of the Martha Beck and Ray Fernandez saga.
There are also previews for Bobby Z, The Contractor, The Last Time, Yellow, September Dawn, God Grew Tired of Us and Revenge Director's Cut/Donnie Brasco Extended Cut.
Final Thoughts:Lonely Hearts is a bit exasperating, a movie that strives for pathos and complexity but tries to get there through tired Hollywood convention. Travolta delivers a surprisingly solid performance and writer-director Todd Robinson has bursts of cinematic inspiration, but it isn't enough to fully acquit this muddled film noir.
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