Deep Cover

Deep Cover is a good crime thriller whose actors are more convincing than some of the writing. Bill Duke wants the danger to extend beyond the prospect of getting caught: catching criminals can also change the person doing it. That gives Michael Tolkin and Henry Bean’s screenplay a worthwhile problem to work through. It does not work through it cleanly, but the performances keep the film interesting when the plotting becomes difficult to follow.

Laurence Fishburne gives Russell Stevens Jr. / John Hull a reserve that sometimes risks looking inert. Mostly it works, because his firmness suggests someone making an effort to stay in control, and that effort is worth watching. We do not need every doubt announced for the possibility of doubt to matter. There are passages where the performance becomes too fixed, though, and the writing does not always give that stillness enough to do beyond holding our attention until the next exchange.

Jeff Goldblum, as David Jason, is the more immediately unsettling presence. We felt uneasy watching him because his unpredictable delivery makes a conversation seem capable of going wrong without warning. His performance gives Laurence Fishburne’s restraint something useful to contend with, and their contrasting approaches keep the film alert. Jeff Goldblum can suggest that someone is enjoying himself without making that enjoyment reassuring. He is also sufficiently interesting to expose how little attention some of the other characters receive.

The sinister atmosphere is another substantial pleasure. Bojan Bazelli’s cinematography gives the film a threatening quality, with Pamela B. Warner’s production design helping make its surroundings feel inhospitable. Both contributions support the performances without competing with them for attention. That is the right emphasis for a thriller whose strongest attraction is the chance to study these people, particularly when the script gives us more complications than we can usefully keep in mind.

John Carter’s editing has the less enviable job of getting us through that script. Some connections between its complications need more care, and the cutting cannot always make the writing easier to follow. Michel Colombier’s moody score is more dependable, sustaining the unease when the story becomes less persuasive. It helps maintain our interest, although there are stretches where we would gladly exchange some of that carefully sustained tension for a clearer understanding of what matters.

The larger disappointment is how unevenly the film develops its political concerns. Michael Tolkin and Henry Bean raise questions about the conduct permitted in the pursuit of criminals, but give themselves more to examine than they adequately explain. Bill Duke treats those questions seriously enough that their incomplete development feels like a missed opportunity. Against the ordinary demands of a police thriller, the film offers welcome ambition; judged by the expectations that ambition creates, it needs sharper writing and fewer distractions from its central problem.

At 108 minutes, it asks for a reasonable amount of patience, though patience will not resolve every complication. Anyone looking for a tightly explained police thriller should look elsewhere. For a crime film carried by two actors we keep wanting to watch, it is worth an evening.