March 26, 1997 | Maybe moviegoers had it better in the 1940s, way back before Access Hollywood and Entertainment Weekly covered every hiccup of on-the-set turmoil. During that more innocent, less media-savvy age, audiences were free to enjoy the likes of Casablanca, The Big Sleep and Meet John Doe without being distracted by reports of cast changes, alternative endings and last-minute re-writes.
But that was then, this is now. The Devil’s Own is merely the latest in a series of ill-starred, big-budget movies to generate extensive gossip about production squabbles, on-location travails and internecine warfare between major stars. What makes it so unique is the source of its worst pre-release publicity: This certainly is the first movie in recent memory to be so publicly dissed by one of its leading players in a major newsweekly.
The good news is, The Devil’s Own doesn’t live down to its reputation. The better news is, the film is a grippingly suspenseful and extremely well-acted drama about two men who come to love each other as brothers, then are forced to battle each other as antagonists. Unlike, say, Waterworld, which earned points simply for not sucking as badly as many feared, Devil’s Own isn’t merely a pleasant surprise — it’s a damn good movie.
Brad Pitt is credible and creditable as Frankie McGuire, an IRA commando who, under the alias of Rory Devaney, flies from Northern Ireland to New York to purchase stinger missiles for his violent cause. He’s greeted with open arms by Tom O’Meara (Harrison Ford), an Irish-American cop who invites “Rory” into his home without knowing anything of the younger man’s hidden agenda. Unfortunately, Tom and his wife (Margaret Colin of Independence Day) find themselves in the line of fire when Rory runs afoul of a cocky arms dealer (Treat Williams). Even more unfortunately, Tom learns just enough about Rory’s activities to be the right man in the right place to stop him — even if that means he must kill him.
Since the passing of Joseph Losey, director Alan J. Pakula has become the uncontested grand master of movies about relationships undermined by deception and paranoia. (Even The Sterile Cuckoo, a seemingly warm-and-fuzzy 1969 romance that marked his directorial debut, has its darker edges — especially when the male lead discovers his “kooky” girlfriend is more seriously troubled than he suspected.) Pakula’s singular talent serves him well here, as he deftly emphasizes the mixed emotions and moral ambiguities that inform the actions of his characters.
Ford’s Tom O’Meara is a man who has somehow maintained his decency and integrity after more than 20 years of patrolling New York’s mean streets. Ultimately, Devil’s Own is about a loss of innocence — and, surprisingly enough, it is Tom, not Rory, who must endure the eye-opening, soul-searing process. (Ford’s performance is a beautifully detailed amalgamation of rage, sorrow, idealism and disillusionment.) Rory, we quickly discover, lost his innocence long, long before he entered the O’Meara household under false pretenses. Mind you, the character isn’t anything as simple or one-dimensional as a standard-issue movie heavy. And yet, despite his love for Tom, his first loyalty is to his cause: civil war, guerrilla war, war without end, amen.
