My third viewing of this masterpiece some time ago revealed to me just how brilliant it really is. Expertly directed, well-crafted, and featuring an intriguing story, State of Grace was unfortunately overlooked upon it's debut in 1990 in favor of more well-known gangster films, such as Goodfellas and the bookend to Coppola's epic Godfather trilogy.
I'm not sure how a film of this caliber can go so grossly overlooked, even nowadays (though, as is the case with many films, it's appreciation has been snowballing the last few years.) All I can say is that it has quickly propelled itself to the elite of my favorite films, and I consider myself lucky to have it sitting in my DVD shelf.
State of Grace was one of the earliest films that depicted the Irish mob, a topic that, so far, has an impeccable track record at being transitioned to the screen: Miller's Crossing, a masterpiece by the Coen Brothers that arrived the same year as this film and was also criminally overlooked, 2003's Road to Perdition, Sam Mendes' beautiful father/son epic, and, most recently, Martin Scorsese's triumphant return to the genre with his slick adaptation of Hong Kong blockbuster, The Departed.
State of Grace takes place in the gritty environment of Hells Kitchen, New York City. Terry Noonan (Sean Penn) is an undercover cop from Boston, on a mission to infiltrate one of the top crime organizations headed by Frankie Flannery (Ed Harris) and his brother, Jackie (Gary Oldman), Noonan's boyhood pals. While in town, Terry falls into his old ways with Jackie, and requests that Frankie put him on the payroll as a worker. He also rekindles his relationship with the brothers' sister, Kate (Robin Wright.)
As Terry becomes more and more entrenched in the underground affairs of Frankie and Jackie, his morals become devastatingly conflicted. He finds that his allegiance to his pals is at ends with his job assignment. His devotion to either is constantly tested. Things take a turn, however, when Frankie's psychotic methods and attempts to align with a powerful Italian syndicate reveal him to be worse than Terry imagined, and he takes matters into his own hands.
Specific mention of the top three actors deserves marquee attention. It is rare that you'll find a cast headlined by as talented a trio as that of State of Grace. Sean Penn, Ed Harris, and Gary Oldman are all their most fierce, and rarely have either of them been better. Each brings something different that is crucial to the movie's success, and the entire package would have been brought down severely without either of them. Penn's tortured cop, who finds himself reverting more and more to the old lifestyle that he tried to get away from, is the crux of the movie. The anguish and guilt that he keeps bottled up inside him really conveys how difficult a situation he is in. Harris adds another level to the cold, calculating mob boss. His sadistic nature is matched beautifully with a fear he protrudes subtly. And Gary Oldman, who never requires any commendation, is, as always, spectacular. He steals every frame of the movie he's in as the impulsive, hot-headed brother/best friend who values little in life, except family and the task at hand. As Harris brings "cold" to another level, Oldman supplies an entirely new definition of "crazy". All of the work done by each of these talents shows why they are considered some of the best in the business.
The supporting cast deserves recognition. The three leads are backed by an impressive cast of character actors, who lend fervently to the style and attitude of the film. Superb character actors John Turturro and John C. Reilly make whatever impressions the lead three allow them, and Robin Wright is a smoldering pillar of sensuality as Penn's love interest (soon to be his wife in real life), and she fleshes out a bit of back story. Burgess Meredith and R.D. Call are also superb.
Ennio Morricone is at hand, and while his score here is not his best (certainly not a bad thing), it really adds to the feel of the movie; first played over the opening credits over a St. Patrick's Day parade in slow motion, and reoccurring throughout the film, it is a nostalgic, haunting theme that takes us to times past and reminds us of the contexts of the scenario.
The cinematography done by Jordan Cronenworth is strangely beautiful, making the well-played grit of the urban area look appealing. A shade of blues dominates the look of the film and gives it a glossy luster.
The finale finds Penn marching to a bar in slow motion to the beat of and through a St. Patrick's Day parade, followed by a shootout inter-spliced with footage of the parade, and it is one the coolest, most adrenaline-pumping scenes ever put to celluloid.
It's too bad this gem isn't recognized more, because it's a real treat. I've found a new perennial favorite, one that is perfect for every third Thursday in March.
The Italian mafia films are great, but it's great to have a few standing points on the board for us Irish.
Erin Go Bragh!