September 6, 2002 | It’s based on a true story, a tragically ironic tale reported by Pulitzer Prize winner Mike McAlray in a 1997 Esquire magazine article. Even so, City by the Sea often plays like the most conventional sort of tough-but-troubled-cop fiction, with a dose of generic cross-generational conflict tossed in for good measure. The burden falls upon the exceptionally fine cast to infuse the familiar material with emotional truth and a sense of urgency.
Fortunately, that cast — led by Robert De Niro at the very top of his form — is more than equal to the daunting challenge.
De Niro plays Vincent LaMarca, a veteran New York City homicide detective who has been so good for so long at what he does primarily because he seldom allows himself to think or talk about anything else. He rarely reveals much about his feelings, and never talks about his past, not even during conversations with Reg (George Dzundza), his long-time partner, or Michelle (Frances McDormand), his casual lady friend. It’s only when Vincent finally gets around to sharing with Michelle — during a restaurant scene that is by turns grimly funny and deeply affecting — that we fully understand why he’s so obsessively circumspect.
Years ago, when Vincent was eight, his hard-luck father abducted a baby from a wealthy family, hoping to obtain a hefty ransom payment. But the baby died. And even though the death was accidental – at least, that’s what his father claimed, and Vincent still believes – Vincent’s dad was executed as a murderer.
More recently, Vincent’s long-estranged son, Joey (James Franco), hit rock bottom as a grungy, glassy-eyed drug addict. As City by the Sea begins, Joey is a wasted vagabond haunting the decrepit boardwalks of Long Beach, the once-popular resort area of Long Island. But the worst is yet to come: While trying to score a fix, he gets into a scuffle with a hot-headed dealer, and fatally stabs his attacker. Joey takes flight, trying to avoid both the cops and Spyder (William Forsythe), the dealer’s vengeful partner. A police detective is killed, the manhunt for Joey intensifies — and Vincent is forced to decide whether he wants to be a loyal father or a good cop.
Despite the occasional flashes of violence and the mandatory squad-room histrionics (“You’re off this case!” “Whadda ya mean, I’m off this case?”) director Michael Caton-Jones sustains a muted tone of sadness and regret throughout City by the Sea. Many scenes – including just about all of the best scenes — are imbued with the poignancy of desperate longing for second chances. And the most thrilling moment has nothing to do with gunplay or high-speed chases, and everything to do with the devastating anguish De Niro conveys near the end as he tries – frantically, tearfully – to prevent another tragedy in his family.
De Niro is every bit as effective in more subdued stretches of City by the Sea, as Vincent struggles to muffle his veteran cop’s instincts while weighing the evidence against his son and his own possible responsibility for Joey’s actions. (Perhaps he should work more often with Caton-Jones, who also directed him in This Boy’s Life.) And while McDormand’s role as the warily supportive lady friend is seriously under-written, she makes a memorable impression largely because, in their scenes together, she and De Niro bring out the best in each other.
Franco is hamstrung by a one-note role — he’s rarely asked to convey anything more than weepy despair — but he manages to give the character at least two dimensions. In addition to Dzundza and Forsythe, who are effectively typecast, the strong supporting cast includes Patti LuPone as Vincent’s embittered ex-wife (and Joey’s terrified mother) and Eliza Dushku as Joey’s sometime-girlfriend. The latter character, it should be noted, gives Vincent all the more reason to worry about the passing of sins from fathers to sons.
