Of all the press material I've seen reviewing the new mystery
flick Zero Effect, most of it seems to acknowledge the
clever, updated Holmes-and-Watson-like relationship of the film's
two main characters. Nobody, as yet, seems to have gotten the
joke, however. Zero Effect isn't like the work of
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; it is the work of Sir Arthur Conan
Doyle. Zero Effect is a near scene-for-scene remake of
Doyle's Scandal in Bohemia--though I'm sure few in the
audience will be aware of this fact (I'm not entirely sure the
producers were aware of it). Scandal is notable in the
Holmes mythos for two reasons: 1) It's the only case he never
solved, and 2) it's the one where he falls in love. Zero Effect
manages to successfully exploit this famous story for
effects both mysterious and comedic.
Bill Pullman is our Sherlock Holmes stand-in, one Daryl Zero by
name. Zero is a flaky genius capable of solving nearly any crime
in record time without even leaving the cluttered confines of
his penthouse apartment--which is a good thing, because he'd much
rather be locked away from society at large banging out awful
tunes on his electric guitar and gulping down huge quantities
of speed (substitute a violin and some morphine and it's Holmes
all over). Unable to function properly in the real world, Zero
has recruited a Dr. Watson in straitlaced lawyer Steve Arlo (Ben
Stiller). It is Arlo who performs all the day-to-day business,
while Zero lurks in the shadows waiting to unleash his brilliant
(if poorly ordered) mind. Although he stages frequent drunken
bitchfests with friends to complain about what a dysfunctional
jerk his legendary boss really is, Arlo has developed a grudging,
almost protective affection for the nutter.
In Zero Effect, our calculating detective is called to
the Pacific Northwest to solve a sticky case of blackmail involving
Portland timber tycoon Gregory Stark (Ryan O'Neal, employing some
of that oily comic charisma we haven't seen since Paper Moon).
In the process, Zero stumbles across slinky but skittish paramedic
Gloria Sullivan (Kim Dickens) with whom he develops a more than
professional fascination. This mysterious woman's link to the
original Conan Doyle story is powerful, although I'll resist the
urge to spoil it in print. If you're familiar with the original
story, you'll know right away who she's supposed to be.
Although it bears a strong literary pedigree, Zero Effect stands
out from the cineplex crowd for a number of other reasons. It's
been ages since audiences have seen a true "mystery"
that doesn't quickly disintegrate into "thriller" territory.
Quite refreshingly, there isn't a single explosion, violent death
or gunfight in this entire film. Though not quite so comically
oriented, Zero Effect reminded my quite a bit of Chevy
Chase's finest hour, Fletch. Pullman and Stiller are suitably
matched as the modern-day Holmes-and-Watson duo. Pullman has found
a perfect role as the slatternly, wigged-out genius--his Daryl
Zero is two parts Albert Einstein, one part Jim Morrison. Stiller,
meanwhile, proves his cinematic merit yet again as the long-suffering
sidekick. He's a winning straight man, and the perfect comic foil
to the scene-stealing gyrations of Pullman.
Zero Effect threatens to derail when the focus is pulled
away from the buddy comedy of Daryl Zero and Steve Arlo to the
budding romance of Daryl Zero and Gloria Sullivan. The switching
of focus is important, though, as it allows our hero a chance
at some character growth and bumps the story into uncharted waters.
First-time director Jake Kasdan commits all the typical sins of
the neophyte (trying to dazzle us with his expensive crane shots),
but he's inherited enough of his father's workman-like talent
(daddy directed The Big Chill and Silverado) to
make it all gel smoothly. The end result is a refreshing hybrid
of old and new.
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