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Henry Bean's THE BELIEVER
"I think you can accurately define power and
seriously propose an alternative to power. Then I think you really have hit
something. What Abraham Cooper at the Wiesenthal Center wasn't defending was
piety or what's good for the Jews. What he was really defending was their power
to define what the Jewish community should be, should say, should think. It was
power, more than Judaism, they were concerned about. That's where I think the
real force lives." The Believer just may be the rare movie that sparks its biggest discussion prior to release, which would be a shame given that noted screenwriter Henry Bean's (who's penned such Hollywood hits as Internal Affairs and Enemy of the State) directorial debut is such a provocative, complex and intriguing film. The forthcoming release, first on the cable network Showtime and then to be followed by a theatrical run, seems like it will be an unjust anticlimax for a film deserving of much more serious attention than I predict it will receive. Sure, I'm a born skeptic, but it appears an all too predictable outcome that The Believer, which took home the Grand Jury Prize at the 2001 Sundance Film Festival, will be thought of in future years as the "odd, novelty movie about a Jewish Nazi." So just what were those folks at the Simon Wiesenthal center looking at when they declared that the film "did not work," effectively ending its chances to find a major independent distribution deal right off the bat? Perhaps a reason for that statement is the presentation of a truly conflicted central character, whose very existence is a completely irreconcilable contradiction. Perhaps certain groups are offended by a film, which does not condescend to its audience by issuing easy solutions to questions one could ponder for a lifetime. Or it could be simply a matter of a supposition that to validate a work like The Believer, an obvious moral stance must be taken. Maybe subject matter this volatile shouldn't be painted in shades of gray, but it's the film's refusal to cater to the offer of an "answer" that provides its invigorating power. When we first meet Danny Balint (Ryan Gosling), early 20's Neo-Nazi skinhead, he is silently harassing an Orthodox Jewish student on a subway. Danny follows the student off of the subway and his intimidation tactics lead to a violent altercation with the passive student. Danny's a far cry from the violent thug we may think is being created, though. He possesses an assertive intelligence and a gift for superlatively articulating his thoughts. Via flashback, we learn that a young Danny often challenged the religious teachings to which he was subjected; a contentious disposition birthed in pre-teen years. When he meets Lina Moebius (Theresa Russell) and Curtis Zampf (Billy Zane), the leaders of an underground right wing organization, the two see in Danny the perfect voice box to espouse their politics. Complicating Danny's position with the group is the surfacing of a relationship between he and Lina's estranged daughter Carla (Summer Phoenix). Danny's rise in neo-fascist circles is thwarted by a glaring reality: He is in fact Jewish. Early on, a reporter named Guy Danielson (A.D. Miles) threatens to expose the secret. Holding the journalist at gunpoint, Danny exclaims that he will kill himself if this secret is revealed. Through Moebius's organization, Danny spends a few days at a skinhead compound, where these hate mongers unite to reinforce their ideology and, apparently, to turn ideas into action, learning terrorist tactics, which are meant to be implemented in immediate fashion. A ransacking of a synagogue with skinhead buddies in tow, results in a difficult, yet revealing moment for Danny, when his fellow hooligans attempt to vandalize a sacred Torah scroll. The young man's hatred begins to battle with a firm realization of his identity. These two elements continue to wage a torrid war that ultimately can only claim Danny as a victim. Later, when he encounters Jewish friends from his past, his life truly comes full circle. First of all, The Believer is a film about the character Danny Balint, almost to the exclusion of the supporting figures. Usually the previous comment would be interpreted as a complaint, but Danny's struggle is so immediate, well developed and flat-out intense that it makes all those around him feel naturally secondary. What might be a flaw in other films is a vibrant strength of this one. The main relationship, which is so graphically explored, is the one between the two halves of Danny. Ryan Gosling is beyond brilliant in the lead role. This performance isn't just an indicator of amazing things to come; that future starts now. His superlative ability to so thoroughly carry the film is nothing short of a gift. His total possession of the character translates an instinct and innate talent, which transcends craft. It's not only hands down the best performance I've seen from a young actor in the past few years, it's arguably the best performance I've witnessed by any actor in recent memory. Let's also dismiss unfair comparisons this film is likely draw to another high profile film that's contains a skinhead central character, American History X. Admittedly, I thought pretty highly of the aforementioned film upon initial viewing, but that tidy tale of redemption just seems so damn Hollywood when stacked against The Believer. Of course, that's why the public will embrace the former film more -- easier to digest, less to question. I'm reminded of how fairy-tale like Boyz N' The Hood seemed to me after experiencing the Hughes brothers' Menace II Society. For feeling ill-equipped to direct a feature film, Bean too exhibits a wealth of natural instincts. From the strangling suffocation of the opening scene on the subway, to the jump cutting (a completely saturated technique these days) used for an honest purpose, to the nervous hand held camera, which so effectively frames the tumultuous imbalance of Danny's world, Bean's effort is void of any visual pretense. The Believer is an undeniably violent movie. It is, however, violence of an intellectual, emotional and, debatably, spiritual nature. Moreover, it's a film about isolation, and an inability to not just understand the surrounding world, but to comprehend the world within. I've heard criticism about the transformation that Danny undergoes during the film, and how his change comes about in an abrupt fashion. But the reality of Danny's character is grounded in the fact that he doesn't change. His confliction is palpable in his every action throughout the film, whether berating a holocaust survivor for not doing more to save his family or teaching Carla how to read Hebrew. For just a brief moment he is able to live his contradictory lives, but what Danny seeks, ultimately, is not peace, which remains a notion far beyond his grasp. In my humble opinion, The Believer is one of the most important films of the past decade. It's far from perfect -- the treatment of Moebius's organization isn't fully realized and a few flashback/dream (although, I'm not sure if that's the proper description) sequences that transport Danny to Nazi Germany are clumsy and obvious -- yet it is a work, which certainly challenges the taboo Bean speaks of in his quote at the top of the page. The movie industry and countless other facets of society are consumed with the struggle to grasp and enforce power. This implementation of rules used to define our values and tastes is so authoritative and all encompassing that it's easy to be unaware of the submission, which is part of the daily process of living. While concession on some level goes hand in hand with being human, the smothering of alternative voices to the entertainment status quo is something not to be accepted or, as importantly, ignored. The Believer is to be commended for serving as another bold challenge to a woefully stagnant system, and an eye-opening reminder that the concept of "power" is the most foreboding and continuing threat to the idea of artistic "freedom."
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