Black Rainbow

1971's Get Carter established the modern British gangster film with a brutal economy of style.  Director Mike Hodges left all the rough edges in his feature directorial debut and reinvented the career of Michael Caine.  But it was a tough act to follow.  And while Hodges attained pop culture immortality with Flash Gordon (1980), it wasn't the sort of film to build a career on. 

That career was in pretty dire straights by the time Black Rainbow (1989) trickled out onto pay cable, bypassing a theatrical release altogether despite a fairly recognizable cast.  Rosanna Arquette has the showiest role as Martha Travis, a reticent medium who plays to gullible crowds anxious to hear from their departed loved ones.  But the thing is, Martha isn't a fake.  And when she starts predicting deaths instead of speaking to the previously deceased, she and her father (Jason Robards) become involved in a local conspiracy involving shady politicians, hired killers and a reporter (Tom Hulce) who's too close to the truth.

 

Produced during the onset of the independent film renaissance, Black Rainbow is stuck in that dangerous no-man's-land between genre film and art house fare.  Hodges certainly hasn't lost his eye for geography and architecture, making the most of the film's obviously limited locations and budget.  And his lead actors relish the opportunity to push themselves a little further than a typical studio film would allow; Arquette is, as usual, fascinating, unpredictable and gorgeous in her appealing non-traditional way. 

 

But the film as a whole is sloppy, with a cast of background actors that seem pulled from the local community theater, plot threads left unresolved and an unnecessary flashback structure.  Black Rainbow's most successful moments are when it gives in to the genre trappings and becomes a gangland-revenge story, following its undeveloped hitman as he struggles to finish the job.  Hodges seems at home with this sort of the material, hearkening back to the Get Carter conventions.  But the film aspires to be something more unconventional, which, oddly enough, is its undoing.

 

Arrow Video has rescued this obscurity (as they did with Hodges' more interesting 1972 entry, Pulp) and delivered a director-approved transfer and extra package.  Special features include a pair of audio commentaries, archival Making Of, interview and featurettes, plus a booklet featuring new writing on the film.

 

 


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