That film, directed by Edmund Goulding, was released in 1947 \u2013 a year after the William Lindsay Gresham novel that inspired it \u2013 so del Toro\u2019s new take unsurprisingly gets a good deal grimier, especially in the opening sequence that can, in grisly detail, show us the carnival \u201cgeek show\u201d that much of it centers on. That presentation, in which the barely-human geek bites the head off a chicken (\u201csolely in the interest of science and education,\u201d per Clem, the barker), is harnessed with real dread and disgust; you can\u2019t say Stan doesn\u2019t know exactly what he\u2019s getting into.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He eventually nabs a steady job with the carnival, and then makes his way into the good graces of the fortune teller (Toni Collette) and her drunken husband\/sorta assistant (David Strathairn). They teach him their mentalist act, a series of complicated verbal cues that allow him to front as though he\u2019s reading minds \u2013 a skill that \u201ccan be misused,\u201d he\u2019s warned. But he quickly comes to understand a fundamental truth, known to all good grifters: at their center, people want to believe. He tries out these people-reading skills on a lawman intent on shutting the roadshow down, and that first flex is thrilling; we\u2019re watching him find his way to what seems his destiny. \u201cMy whole life I been lookin\u2019, lookin\u2019 for somethin\u2019 I\u2019m good at,\u201d he explains, excitedly, \u201can\u2019 I think I found it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Cooper does some of his best work to date as Stan, going a long stretch up top without any dialogue at all, then only speaking when he must, before transforming himself to a man full of silky-smooth patter. Over the course of the picture, we watch him pull himself together and then fall back apart, and both journeys are compelling. Straithairn steps into his role like a pair of old boots, and Collette is a joy to watch, flaring her eyes and making enigmatic intonations like \u201cDon\u2019t do the spook show!\u201d And Rooney Mara is aces as Molly, the \u201celectric girl,\u201d whom he falls for and sweeps away from the carny life; she gives the character real life and warmth (watch her trying and failing to stifle a smile after they throw the switch for that deputy).<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There\u2019s tentativeness and tenderness to their romance \u2013 real stakes, imagine that \u2013 and the two-year flash-forward, during which they perfect their act, shreds that intimacy immediately. (It\u2019s a pretty bold bit of emotional tomfoolery.) While performing in a fancy nightclub, Stan crosses paths with a psychologist, Dr. Ritter (Cath Blanchett); \u201cYou\u2019ve got a smoother line but you run a racket, same as me,\u201d he assures her, and they make a nice little arrangement: he\u2019ll hire himself out as a medium for her wealthy clients, and she\u2019ll share the secrets they\u2019ve told her in therapy. But she warns him, sternly, \u201cIf you displease the wrong people, the world closes in on you, very fast.\u201d No prizes for guessing how that goes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Blanchett makes a meal of her noir lighting and costumes, but it\u2019s a fatally dull performance; she plays it exactly as you\u2019d expect, her style fully cauterized, which is never praise for an actor this good. But as the wealthiest (and most dangerous) of their marks, Richard Jenkins is chilling, crafting a character quite unlike anything he\u2019s done before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The script, by del Toro and film historian Kim Morgan, follows the story beats of the original novel and film fairly closely, but luxuriates a bit more. Some have complained about the expansive running time (a half hour longer than the original), but this viewer isn\u2019t one of them; a film with this much mood and atmosphere can take its time, and from a pacing perspective, del Toro only steps wrong at the very end, tapping the brakes when he should hit the gas (we know where it\u2019s going to land, no need to belabor it).<\/p>\n\n\n\n No, he earns the indulgence, because he\u2019s clearly having a great time blazing through his funhouse sets, and this carny world. The insights into how that world works are fascinating (and recall real, inside-baseball grindhouse films like She-Beast <\/em>and Carnival of Blood, <\/em>and of course Freaks<\/em>); the filmmaker clearly enjoys just hanging out with these weirdos and eccentrics, so he takes his time with them, not hitting the mentalist section until the one-hour mark. There, he deftly replaces the grime of the carnival with the sleek, shiny Art Decco surfaces of the city, jettisoning the soft, inviting light of the midway for the hard shafts of the spotlights.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The production is impressive; Nathan Johnson\u2019s score is deliciously baroque, costumes are impeccable, and Dan Laustesen\u2019s cinematography is bursting with images of brutal beauty. It does wander a bit, to be sure (too much for impatient viewers, perhaps), but damned if del Toro doesn\u2019t pull it all together in his humdinger of a climax, a tidal wave of blood, snow, strings, and vibes. That\u2019s cinema, folks. “Nightmare Alley” is in theaters Friday.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/crookedmarquee.com\/stage8\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/12\/nightmare2-1024x737.jpg\")
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<\/p>\n\n\n\nA-<\/strong><\/h1>\n\n\n\n