Cast: Steve Guttenberg, Elizabeth McGovern, Isabelle Huppert, Paul Shenar, Carl Lumbly , Wallace Shawn, Frederick Coffin, Brad Greenquist
Director: Curtis Hanson
Producer: Martha Schumacher
Screenplay: Curtis Hanson, based on the novel "The Witness" by Anne Holden
Cinematography: Gilbert Taylor
Music: Patrick Gleeson, Michael Shrieve
U.S. Distributor: DEG
In a strangely perverse way, The Bedroom Window is an intriguing motion picture - not because of anything that occurs on screen but because, in an examination by autopsy, it offers a nearly perfect case study of how a promising thriller can go badly wrong. In fact, looking at this film from a distance, it becomes even more interesting. After all, 14 years in the wake of The Bedroom Window's clumsy (and financially unrewarding) multiplex debut, Curtis Hanson is no longer a no-name director, Elizabeth McGovern is no longer a young starlet on the rise, and Steve Guttenberg is no longer running neck-and-neck with Tom Hanks for "everyman" popularity. Most of the time, I elect to review good movies for video consumption; this is one of those occasions when I felt compelled to write a few words about an inferior production.
The best place to start is probably with the plot, and, if The Bedroom Window's storyline sounds a little Hitchcockian in nature, there's a reason - the movie is essentially a amalgamation of scenes and situations lifted from the master filmmaker's best work, from Rear Window to The Man Who Knew Too Much. The central premise - the innocent man trapped into looking guilty - was one of Hitchcock's favorites. But there's a key difference, and it seems to have eluded writer/director Hanson - Hitchcock's films worked because we bonded with the protagonist. In The Bedroom Window, there isn't even a momentary hint of character identification. Everyone, from the lead on down, is little more than a personality-deprived mannequin on display to serve the needs of the convoluted plot.
The Bedroom Window opens up to reveal the beginnings of an improbable affair between the rather goofy Terry Lambert (Steve Guttenberg) and the sensual, serious Sylvia (Isabelle Huppert). Not only are these two mismatched, but Sylvia is the wife of Terry's no-nonsense boss (Paul Shenar), who has a penchant for toying with guns. The film helps to dispel our disbelief that Sylvia would find anything attractive about the non-charismatic Terry by explaining that she's bored with her marriage and finds his obvious infatuation with her to be a turn-on. Plus, apparently, he's good in bed. Sylvia never pretends to feel anything for Terry - it's the excitement of doing something illicit (and potentially dangerous) that gets her going.
At roughly two o'clock in the morning on their first night together, Terry gets up to use the bathroom. Sylvia hears a commotion outside and goes to the bedroom window - where she witnesses an assault and attempted murder. The victim, a young woman named Denise (Elizabeth McGovern) escapes her assailant, the creepy red-head Henderson (Brad Greenquist), but not before he sees Sylvia standing nude at the window. Later that night, Henderson strikes again, and this time his attack is successful. Meanwhile, Sylvia and Terry strategize how to go to the police with her account of events. She can't come forward because her husband would find out about the affair, so Terry decides to go in her stead. She gives him a detailed description of Henderson and what happened, and he relays it to the police, claiming to have seen everything himself. But, after Terry is unable to identify Henderson in a line-up, he begins some amateur detective work on his own, and places himself in a precarious situation where he becomes the police's prime suspect.
The first half of the film is easily the better part. It brims with promise, although the characters aren't as fully developed as they should be and there's a certain amount of contrivance associated with the set-up. There's a casual believability in the early scenes between Terry and Sylvia (including the kind of unforced nudity one expects between a couple in a bedroom - nothing overt or exploitative, but none of the coy "hiding everything under the sheets" one often gets in Hollywood productions), and the presentation of the attack on Denise (along with Sylvia's reaction to it) is chillingly effective. Unfortunately, once the plot gets underway, the movie starts grinding metal. With each new complication, the ability to maintain the suspension of disbelief becomes more difficult, and Hanson's carefully constructed house of cards comes crashing down long before the final credits have rolled. In fact, the film's resolution is so hard to accept that it's almost laughable.
In order for the plot to work - which it really doesn't, anyway - it is necessary for the characters to be lobotomized. Not only do they not show any evidence of independent thought, but they do some things that screaming horror movie protagonists would be embarrassed by. Many of Terry's actions are inexplicable, and his and Denise's plan to trap the killer is so absurd that even the most credulous viewer is likely to have problems with it. And, as for Wallace Shawn's courtroom trick that proves Terry to be a liar - not only would anyone with a scintilla of intelligence not been caught in this position, but there is at least one obvious way out. (I don't know anyone with contact lenses who doesn't have a pair of glasses handy - Terry merely could have claimed to have put them on.) The only character who shows any consistency of personality is Sylvia - she's a bitch from the beginning. The fact that she eventually turns her back on Terry should come as no surprise to him or to anyone else. Keeping Henderson as little more than a paper-thin figure hovering around the periphery is probably a good idea (although on more than one occasion, he resembles Halloween's serial killer, Michael Myers) - we don't need him to be developed for the film to work. However, it's a little disconcerting that he becomes as "real" an individual as Terry or Denise. That speaks to the film's complete inability to engage us in the people we're supposed to sympathize with.
It's interesting to place The Bedroom Window in the larger context of Curtis Hanson's career. This was the director's first high profile film, following in the wake of such memorable titles as The Little Dragons and Losin' It (with Tom Cruise). After The Bedroom Window's failure, Hanson moved onto other, more lucrative projects, including the psychological thriller Bad Influence (with Rob Lowe haunting James Spader) and The Hand That Rocks the Cradle. Neither of these films was appreciably better than The Bedroom Window, but they caught the public's attention (especially Hand). Hanson's true turn-around came in 1997, when he made L.A. Confidential, which deserved every Oscar nomination it got. Then, in 2000, he helmed another critically praised movie, Wonder Boys. It's fair to say that he has made a quantum leap as both a writer and a director in little more than ten years.
Back in 1987, it was difficult to differentiate Steve Guttenberg from Tom Hanks. Many people both inside and outside of the industry considered them interchangeable, and more than a few non-"Bosom Buddy" fans couldn't tell them apart. They were both a year away from a big hit. Hanks' chance came in 1988 with Big; Guttenberg hit the jackpot around the same time with Three Men and a Baby. After that, however, Hanks' star soared while Guttenberg's plummeted. Viewing his performance in The Bedroom Window, it's not hard to understand why. The man has no range and shows little evidence of acting talent. His unconvincing portrayal of Terry is one of the primary reasons why the movie doesn't work. Guttenberg is supposed to give us an "everyman" we can identify with; instead, his whining performance amounts to smirking, pouting, and reciting lines of memorized dialogue with as little feeling as possible.
Guttenberg's career may have tanked shortly after The Bedroom Window, but both of his female co-stars fared better. Elizabeth McGovern never developed into the leading lady position she was being groomed for, but she became a more than competent character actor, and frequently shows up in small or off-beat movies (in recent years, she has appeared in a pair of period pieces, Wings of the Dove and The House of Mirth). Isabelle Huppert, whose primary success has been in France, has largely stayed clear of the Hollywood limelight. Outside of the occasional English-language appearance (such as in Hal Hartley's Amateur), she has continued to work in her native country, eschewing money for the chance to make films she feels comfortable with (recent notable examples: La Ceremonie and The Swindle).
Looking back 14 years at The Bedroom Window, it's hard to see it as anything but an attempt to cram as many Hitchcockian twists into a screenplay that becomes top-heavy and unwieldy as a result of its determination to offer a surprise at every corner. A few less of these plot turns would have become welcome. This is the kind of thriller where it doesn't take long for the unexpected to become expected. In that way, after the initial burst of energy has worn off, The Bedroom Window devolves into a disappointingly banal production. Twenty minutes into the movie, you're hooked. An hour later, you feel cheated. That's the way it often is with bad thrillers. They have good set-ups, but can't offer anything more than a series of badly drawn characters and hackneyed contrivances.
So, if you feel compelled to rent The Bedroom Window, do so not with the expectation of seeing a good movie (it isn't) or of watching something that Hitchcock would have made (he wouldn't have touched something this derivative and poorly thought-out). Instead, do it as a way of putting the careers of Hanson, Guttenberg, McGovern, and Huppert into a proper perspective. For Hanson and Guttenberg, in particular, this was an important film. It opened doors for one and started shutting them for the other. As a low-budget, B-level thriller, The Bedroom Window is watchable - but nothing more. Low expectations may result in mindless entertainment - and that's about the only level at which this move can be appreciated.
© 2001 James Berardinelli