Movie review: Dark Streets

Coach Phillips, you've got a lovely daughter.

by John P. Meyer

If there's one thing Dark Streets has going for it, it's atmosphere.

'Course, you could say the same thing about the noxious gaseous cocktail enveloping the planet Venus. (Translation: atmosphere needn't equal a breath of fresh air.)

Director Rachel Samuels' quirky little film (scripted by Wallace King from a Glenn M. Stewart play) is exceedingly dark, and I mean that quite literally: you should see the tangled ink-scrawl of notes I attempted to scribble down during my screening of it. (Actually, it's better that you don't, as it might cause you to wonder if I was actually able to reference them afterwards.) There are actually no scenes which take place in the full light of day. The closest we come is a daylight hours interlude in which the lead character, a nightclub impresario named Chaz (Gabriel Mann), visits the mausoleum where his father's cremated remains are interred.

Further, it's set in an unspecified fictionalized city during an unspecified post-industrial era when infrastructure - and confidence in public officialdom - are beginning to come apart at the seams. (i.e., it could easily be contemporary.)

The most entertaining attribute of the movie might be its originally-composed music (credit George Acogny), whether incorporated into the action as bluesy scoring or brought to the forefront during staged glamour show performances - replete with slinky dancers who appear to have raided the local Frederick's of Hollywood fashion outlet. (Score one for fishnet hosiery.)

The film's 12 original songs - written by James Compton, Tim Brown, Tony DeMeur and actress/performer Bijou Phillips - are sung (off-camera) by such legendary artists as Dr. John, Natalie Cole, Aaron Neville, Solomon Burke, Chaka Khan, Richie Sambora, B.B. King and Etta James (who figures prominently in another current release, though not as a performer).

In addition to the movie's dark cinematography and warm color palette, another stylistic affectation should be mentioned: it has been filmed entirely using what's known as a "swing and shift" lens. In terms of still photography, this equates to a Lensbaby. For those not conversant in obscure imaging devices, this allows for a very localized zone of sharp focus surrounded by a bunch of stuff that's out of focus. Allowing for a lot of control over what one wants one's viewer to concentrate on.

This peculiar and distinctive filming method works pretty well for certain scenes (character close-ups; dark street navigation) but not so well for others. I'd prefer, for instance, to see all those nice-but-nasty dames parading around on stage in fairly sharp focus, rather than only portions of them.

You might have noticed that I've thus far avoided any mention of the actual plot, and there's a reason for that: the less said, the better, and not because I'm afraid of ruining any kind of twist ending for you. I think you understand what I'm saying here. At any rate, and in as few words as feasible, here's what to expect:

The Tower Club is a bright-light oasis in a dark urban wasteland. Run by a guy named Chaz (Mr. Mann, who delivers one of the most lackluster leading man portrayals in recent memory), the club's going great guns until the dang power goes out, sending his already-murky floorshow into pitch blackness.

But it's not just the Tower Club's power that's failing (and failing night after night); it's power all over the city. Coincidentally enough, Chaz's dad (now deceased) used to run the power company. And he (Dad) left Chaz in possession of an old tin toy in the form of a ferris wheel. Which may or may not hold a clue to the corrupt shenanigans going on between the governor (Ken Rosier) and whoever it is that's running the power company now. Meanwhile, Chaz owes money to a strongarm loan shark who's losing patience in the old "I'll get you plenty of money as soon as the power stays on long enough to sell a few drinks" excuse.

But forget about all that, because Chaz has a new benefactor in the guise of a police lieutenant named - um - we're not sure, exactly, because he just goes by "The Lieutenant." (Or "The," to close acquaintances). This guy (Elias Koteas) dresses butch-goth-to-the-max, sporting lace-up leather wrist guards and a Matrix-style duster. He looks like an escapee from the set of Gladiator who stumbled into the wardrobe tent for Once Upon a Time in the West. Nice eye shadow, too.

Anyway, the lieutenant has a girl he wants Chaz to meet, and not in the way you might expect. Her name is Madelaine (Izabella Miko), and she's a classier brand of banana than the types of dames Chaz is used to. Plus, she warbles like a golden-throated finch, leading Chaz to position her on center stage in place of his former paramour, Crystal (Bijou Phillips). Who's not so excited about the twin demotions (onstage and off).

It's the old story, really: wimpy yet popular nightclub owner whose Dad used to own the power company gets played for a chump by a dazzling dame and taken for a ride on a tin toy ferris wheel. Or something like that.

Just a few final points of interest in regard to this stylish, pseudo-substantive cinematic curiosity:

1. The good looking hoofer named Rose is played by Tracy Phillips, daughter of Dallas Cowboys head coach Wade Phillips

2. Male lead Gabriel Mann is joined in the cast by his sister, Alexandra Mann (as a bit player named Lorna)

3. Half the profits from the movie - if there end up being any - will go to The Blues Initiative

... which might be the best reason of all for you to buy a ticket to see Dark Streets.