Cult films, by their essence, tend to split folk into: “Whoa!” and “Whassatabout?” Brick changes nothing. Winner of the Special Jury Prize at Sundance 2005 for ‘originality of vision’, first time director and writer (or 2nd time if you count Evil Demon Golfball From Hell!!!, many won’t) Rian Johnson, through a decade of planning, scraping and saving, and eventually promoting, has whittled down Brick’s summary as: ‘A detective movie, set in a High School’. Despite this sounding like bread and butter to promote (setting a film in a sun-plaid high school is at least a step up form ‘…In Space’) Brick’s modest funding was continually pulled due to its unwillingness to play cutesy and its obstinacy in being taken seriously.
Brick is as hardboiled as anything. If its cast could grow a full beard, they’d no doubt strike their matches from their jaws. That’s if they smoked. That fact that this ‘non-more-noir’ detective story is played out in a near adult-free American everytown is neither here nor there. Or rather, it is. Rian Johnson has stated that his reason for setting his film accordingly is because he views high school as an insular, clandestine and dangerous world, he filmed at his own school to attest this point.
Enter Joseph Gordon-Levitt, who, despite being in his mid-twenties, still has that emaciated, angelic appearance as best remembered from 3rd Rock from the Sun’s Tommy Solomon. That Gordon-Levitt still looks that way should act as something of a hindrance in creating a hard-nosed, fast-talking gumshoe, and it’s to his credit – and to the utmost importance of the film – his performance is near astonishing.
Brendan (Gordon-Levitt), distinguished by his high school compatriots as a loner for his predilection of ‘eating his lunch around the back’, finds himself on the receiving end of a panicked phone call from his ex-flame (that still burns) Emily (LOST’s Emilie de Ravin), it appears there was a problem with the ‘Brick’, the ‘Bulls’ might be involved, and the ‘Pin’ isn’t best pleased. As Brendan eventually gets deeper into the mystery, he finds Emily murdered, thus sending him over the edge, turning from passivity into a shit-eating punchbag, shaking things up, spouting off killer one-liners and smiling through broken teeth. He won’t give up. The transformation may seem trite, but it isn’t, Brendan isn’t a warrior, he’s simply a wire-bespectacled, shaggy haired kid who watched his love fall into the wrong crowd, he’s got nothing to lose and doesn’t expect to come out clean.
If there is a problem with Brick, it’s that it occasionally sits back too smugly on its influences, most noted being Bogart’s Sam Spade and the crime-novels of Raymond Chandler. There’s a scene with the school principal that smells more than a little of a smirking Serpico. The plot, inevitably, becomes a little too twist heavy to wade through with ease, but this is also one of Brick’s masterstrokes, it refuses to play nice, just like it’s lead.
For fans of Noir, they’ll be plenty here to reference and devour; femme fatals, smart-mouthing, double-crosses, shadow-players and plenty of brooding. For those not so initiated, Brick remains an intriguing, challenging, almost hypnotic experience. Brick’s oddness and unwillingness to conform will secure a cult following that will grow and grow.