Paranoia on Parade
Dr. Daniel's review of Conspiracy Theory

in for observation

Starring Mel Gibson, Julia Roberts, Patrick Stewart, Cylk Cozart, Stephen Kahan.

Directed by Richard Donner. Rated R.

    Okay, here's the deal. I'll gladly confirm that this crazy world we live in could scare the bejeepers out of anyone. Too many folks playing too many games for me, you know? The government can't keep their willies in their britches, much less their hands out of people's pockets, how can they be trusted to do much of anything?
    It's no wonder that you see so many of these raving lunatics runnin' around, crowing about how the globe's on a kamakazi mission with the Apocalypse, or about how Bill Gates and the electrified brain of Howard Hughes own the entire country and are slowly selling it off to Kuwait, or how Drew Barrymore is the Antichrist (OK, that one I made up, but it makes a lot of sense if you think about it....). Everybody sees shadows around every corner, and the whole wide world is one boiling crock pot of paranoia. (Isn't that how Oliver Stone has made his last three movies?)
    Even Carver Point has its Official Town Looney. Known only as Mr. Ecks, he spends every night from dusk 'til dawn roaming the Internet, sending encrypted chat messages to all his X-Files buddies about hidden military installations, the Bruce Lee/Jack Ruby wedding, and the amazing connection between the number 13 and the Lincoln and Garfield assassinations. When the sun comes up, he moves his act to the front steps of the courthouse. He sits there all day, playing speed chess and spouting off diatribes about "Sesame Street's" subliminal messages and the satanic anti-democracy sentiment embedded in Sam Donaldson's eyebrows.
    So, I was pretty well-versed on what to expect when I walked in to see Conspiracy Theory, the new Mel Gibson movie. What I did not expect to see was two gargantuan acting performances stuffed into 2/3 of a great movie, and 1/3 of Lethal Weapon Part Pi.
    In Conspiracy Theory, The Gibsonator plays a Big Apple cabbie named Jerry Fletcher, a walking accordion file of paranoid theories about the politica of the world. He spouts these ravings to any and all passengers all night long, and writes about them all day long in his home-brewed newsletter, aptly titled CONSPIRACY THEORY. Jerry sees the Dark Side in everything from the Space Shuttle to the Grateful Dead, and his life is a continuing monologue, a 24-7-365 discussion that could wear the patience of Job. It's like a Spaulding Gray movie without the end credits.
    Well, one day, ol' Jerry accidentally hits a bullseye on one of his theories. And the wrong person hears it, and, almost too close to reality, the "They" he's always talking about show up to shush him once and for all. And the only person Jerry knows that might help him is the object of his desire, a beautiful Justice Department lawyer named Alice (Julia Roberts). And, boy, does she need a lot of convincing....
    There are more features to the plot that I should share with you, but it would be truly unfair to ignore the screenwriter, Brian Helgeland, one of the shining but unseen stars of this movie. One can only hope his work on the upcoming L.A. Confidential this fall will bring him to the forefront.
    Mel Gibson is at his best when he's a touch wack-o. His character in the LW series was all the more acceptable 'cause he was about two tacos short a combo plate. Here though, we're given a double dose of that Martin Riggs mentality in one character. Jerry Fletcher is a man possessed, yes, and he is dang near as certifiable as anything that could share a cell with Brad Pitt in 12 Monkeys. But, and a very big "but," there is so much more subtlety here it makes Jerry almost pitiful at times. He talks to anyone who will listen, and when there's nobody there, he talks to himself. He carries on entire conversations with himself, asking questions and answering them, tossing himself riddles, and doing everything he can to keep himself contained as much as he can. In Riggs, we had the vial of nitro, waiting to be shaken. In Jerry, we get the time bomb, ticking loudly sometimes, and quietly at others, but always ticking. Only we never know where the timer's been set. This performance is a blast.
    The other top-notch performance is not from Crown Princess Julia, surprisingly enough. She does a fine job, but her character is never given the spotlight. She's a valiant soul, leaping into the fire with both feet, but the flick keeps her mostly relegated to supporting status.
    No, folks, the bungoose here is Patrick Stewart. Yes, Chrome-Dome Starship Cap'n Patrick Stewart. His character, the perfectly bone-chilling Dr. Jonas, is a psychologist for one of the "They" branches of government intelligence, that black hole of alphabet soup. The closest thing I've seen onscreen to rival Stewart's performance is Olivier's dentist from hell in Marathon Man. He can torture you with strobe lights and Clockwork Orange-eyeclips, all the while talking in this tone of voice you would use to scold a errant child. It works, but it raises the birdleather, lemme tell you. Watch him comfort Julia Roberts during a bout of bad news. It is creepy in a Chester-The-Molester way that Captain Picard would have never even thought about. It is so refreshing to see someone from the 25 years of Star Trek branch out and do a role that much against type (Shatner, can you hear me?)
    So, we got a nice, taut, funky little thriller rockin' along for about ninety minutes or so, when suddenly, director Richard Donner rears up like a horse on a hot prod, and the entire movie becomes a Lethal Weapon ripoff of action scenes and "black hats vs. white hats" and it blows everything. Donner had a great new formula brewing, and it's like he reached into his black bag for a dusty brown bottle and said, "Now for a shot of Ol' Faithful," and poured too much into the mix. He ruined it by resorting to the old formula. I kept waiting to see if he was going to work Danny Glover in as another tired cameo like he did in Maverick. Whoa, there, Dickie, you wild man. My sides are splitting....
    Conspiracy Theory is well worth seeing, if for no other reason than to witness Gibson and Stewart acting their chaps off. Mel's come a long way from the stoney Mad Max, evolving with each film into one of moviedom's most effective and riveting actors. (Remember back in 1990 when he played Hamlet and everybody said, "MEL GIBSON IS PLAYING WHO??!") Major alert, though: you will also have to see Julia Roberts cry. I love you dearly, Julia honey, but, dang, girl, you cry uglier than a mud fence. Overlook the sense of deja vu you'll get near the end. It's real, people, and you've seen it before, but don't let it spoil an otherwise nifty flick.