In Theaters: Edge of Darkness

It's a self-consciously literate moment in a largely and unabashedly gratifying genre exercise. The scenes involving the Lex Luthor-ish CEO of North Moor Jack Bennett (Danny Huston) and the corporation's almost laughably imposing headquarters sit equally uneasily amid the film's slick-streeted, urban noir trappings. More effective, not surprisingly, is the conception of Gibson as the father with nothing left to lose, fighting his lonely fight and lurching, again and again -- almost inevitably -- back to his orderly kitchen, drawn to a home whose protections have been proven illusive. And yet it is worth cringing through Bennett's sleazy, vampiric query during his first conversation with Craven about his daughter's death ("What does it feel like?") to later collect the reward of Craven, driven to the point of psychosis by his grief and frustration (he is literally haunted by the voice and image of Emma throughout), repeating the line back to him after an ingeniously manic pursuit.

That scene -- punishingly tense and tightly crafted -- is one of several to leave unexplained loose ends that the film, in its propulsive haste, won't stop to trim or lace up. The body count reaches comic book proportions and the corruption eventually infects even Craven's trusted friends; overextended though the narrative may be, Campbell effectively conjures the freight train feeling of a life -- and a country -- speeding completely out of control. The collision of the two makes for some pretty classic, popcorn-tossing moments: whoops of pleasure and even applause regularly rose up from the audience when Gibson, looking older, slower and more sympathetic, drives a bullet or a particularly cutting what-for home.

Craven's supreme grudge match with Bennett goes totally, crowd-pleasingly gonzo and the corrupt Massachusetts senator and his clean-up crew of twitchy counsel ("This is a highly irregular conversation!" is one hilariously lawyerly cry of distress) get a much-cheered comeuppance that reaches Avatar-levels of anti-establishment bloodlust. Whether Mel is back remains to be seen, heard, and endlessly blogged about; more definitively reconfirmed is the relevance of that old '70s standby, the government conspiracy thriller. Whereas recent films, like the ill-conceived Rendition, have used the genre to try and tap into contemporary issues like torture, here the central prominence of nukes, oddly enough, allows Campbell to ignite the cathartic charge we seek from the genre. There is a distance there, in the public imagination at least, that makes for freer, less guarded engagement and a consequently unfettered reward. It's a neat trick, actually, and one that bodes well for an audience that could use the release.

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