July 17, 1986 | Quirky and compelling, Trouble in Mind is a moody, bluesy evocation of romantic melancholy, filtered through a movie-informed consciousness and viewed through the bottom of an empty whiskey glass. Written and directed by Alan Rudolph, who last charmed audiences with the neon-lit roundelay of Choose Me, it takes the clichés and conventions of 1940s film noir, then exaggerates them through a laconic stylization that seems a very sincere form of flattery.
As John Hawkins, an ex-cop and ex-con with a pulp novel past, Kris Kristofferson brings more world-weary panache to the simple act of lighting a cigarette than any actor since Humphrey Bogart. His performance represents underplaying as an art form: He doesn’t have to do much except stand there and look the part. That’s enough. But there’s more.
Hawk, as the character is generally known, personifies the hard-boiled fiction ideal of a man who is neither tarnished nor afraid as he walks down the mean streets. Recently released from prison after murdering an untouchable mobster, Hawk returns to the seediest neighborhood of Rain City to pick up the pieces of his past. Wanda (Genevieve Bujold), the no-nonsense proprietor of a second-rate diner, is glad to see Hawk — but not glad enough to reignite their burnt-out romance. Still, she offers him a place to stay, which is all he really needs until he meets Georgia (Lori Singer), the tremulous child-bride of a would-be criminal. Hawk sees in the vulnerable young mother a chance for redemption. Trouble is, she only has eyes for her husband, Coop (Keith Carradine), a rockabilly-coiffured punk with big ambitions and small prospects.
Dreamily photographed by Toyomichi Kurita, Trouble in Mind was filmed on location in Seattle, but appears to be set in some parallel universe. It’s a Late Show world where the natives speak in a terse, cryptic idiom — ”A little bit of everyone belongs in hell, Lieutenant!” — and a climactic shootout sporadically erupts with the manic ferocity of Keystone Kops slapstick.
There are signs that Rain City is under martial law, with troops marching through the streets, and soundtrucks blasting patriotic exhortations. But this is just so much window dressing, to invoke the Occupation atmosphere of Casablanca. The military men fade into the background as the love stories and crime melodramas unfold.
Without a strong screen presence at the center of things to root this fantasia in something resembling reality, Trouble in Mind might have come off as too self-consciously flamboyant for comfort. No problem: Kristofferson may not be a great actor, but he has a straightforward, steely-eyed sincerity that connects directly with the audience. When Hawk offers to save Coop from the vengeful wrath of an effete gangland chief, but only if Georgia promises to run away with him, Kristofferson gives us both the self-assured confidence of a classic movie hero, and the wistful yearning of a gambler ready to risk it all on one last toss of the dice. Hawk limps — he’s a wounded man, get it? — but he walks tall. Kristofferson makes us comprehend the high cost of putting up a good front.
Keith Carradine is excellent at conveying the slow, steady corruption of a not-so-innocent in the big city. And Genevieve Bujold is a marvel of hard-bitten, soft-hearted grittiness as a tough broad with a smart mouth. Lori Singer isn’t a match for her co-stars — she lacks the stature to hold her own in such company. But Divine, the drag artist best known for his John Waters comedies, is tremendously effective in a relatively straight role, as Hilly Blue, a fey gangster with more than a touch of Sydney Greenstreet about him. Also worthy of note: Joe Morton (The Brother from Another Planet ) as a thief who quotes Cervantes, and George Kirby as Hawk’s last best friend on the police force.
As Marianne Faithful wails plaintively on the soundtrack, and Hawk edges ever closer to that inevitable moment when a man becomes a myth, Trouble in Mind is unexpectedly touching. In fact, the movie is positively subversive. Just when you’re certain it’s an ironic send-up, it makes an end-run around your expectations and touches your heart. If you’ve ever dreamed of turning up the collar of your trenchcoat for a solitary stroll through a fog-shrouded backlot, you’ll like what you see here.
