The Paperboy is one of those films you have to see to believe, but I’m not quite sure you’d believe it even then. It’s a hot, sticky slice of Florida pulp, spinning the yarn of two Miami reporters who return to their hometown in an attempt to reverse the death sentence of a man, Hillary Van Wetter (John Cusack), convicted for the murder of a local sheriff. Convinced of his innocence is Charlotte Bless (Nicole Kidman), a kind of trailer-trash Bardot whose hobby is collecting caged lovers. She first reads about them in the paper, then writes to them in penitentiary and falls in love with their letters. But Hillary is different, she says. “We have that kind of telepathic connection, you dig?”
The investigation lead by Ward (Matthew McConaughey) and his assistant Yardley (David Oyelowo) proves to be slow starting, especially when Charlotte hijacks their first meeting with Hillary, ripping open her stockings and, with her captive beau on the other side of the room, simulates aggressive oral sex, bringing them both to simultaneous climax. It’s the first of the film’s several truly outré moments, with the now infamous jellyfish scene trailing not far behind.
These scenes have won the film a reputation usually reserved for the likes of John Waters or Russ Meyer, but truly they are few and far between, and Daniels’ attention to visual detail and genre trickery means that The Paperboy’s lot falls awkwardly between the arthouse and multiplex. Indeed, he wants to have his cake and eat it by mixing a political, auteurist drama with sleazy Southern exploitation, and the openly gay, African American filmmaker uses his coiled narrative to discuss prejudices of the 1960s, and taboo sexuality.
As drama it’s an incredibly linear and predictable affair lifted by some great performances. Cusack’s one-note swamp dweller is the weakest of the bunch, but works effectively as genre caricature – there’s never any doubt that he killed the sheriff, even when the film tries its hardest to convince you otherwise. Kidman’s bleach blond nympho is a brilliant creation, however, and one of her best performances to date (her bravest since Eyes Wide Shut in 1999, and with this year’s Stoker a fine example of how to subvert a star image). The scene where she pisses on Efron actually stands out more for the pitch of her performance, when you can’t quite decide if Charlotte is panicked by the dying boy before her or uncontrollably turned on by the whole experience. Efron himself is another weak link, but his dedication to the role is impressive and his unquestionable charisma is nicely channeled into the film. Still on an amazing winning streak, McConaughey’s sweaty, slowly deteriorating reporter is a magnetic focus.
The problem is that their performances only really come alive when the film embraces its nasty side, but as exploitation it’s not muculent or crass enough, never straying too far from its narrative plod to make you feel like this humid, lustrous world is truly, palpably alive. The Paperboy joins a rank of films including 12 Angry Men and Blue Collar where the swelter of summer is felt by the audience (“I’m sweating like a pregnant nun back here” ), but Daniels doesn’t use this as an intensifier of action. It trods along slowly, and the film is often too willing to take the figurative heat off to keep a mainstream audience engaged. For example, the scene after the aforementioned prison visit is a two-minute jaunt to the Department of Public Information. Hardly the most exciting prospect, but a fine examples of Daniels’ relative conservatism (his 2009 Oscar winner Precious also had subversive elements which were much more acclaimed than they deserved to be simply for being in an awards caliber film). Compared with the similarly warped Southern crime drama Black Snake Moan, The Paperboy feels a little timid.
It’s as an auteurist film that The Paperboy is most interesting, with interracial relationships and scenes of homosexual (not to mention S&M) gang rape feeling deeply personal, but Daniels never uses the film as a political mouthpiece – it’s not preachy or tempered, but it definitely feels like the director is exorcising some demons, and relishing the chance to be this dirty and provocative onscreen. It’s a shame that his sense of fun, his glee in bathing in the taboo, doesn’t translate to an exciting or wholly engaging film.
The Paperboy is an unusual experience and a hard one to summarize. It’s nasty and clammy, its borderline grindhouse elements feeling dangerous and illicit in a mainstream thriller, but they’re quickly dampened by formulaic narrative beats and there’s no real sense that you’re actually with the film you want to be with – you’d rather have straight up procedural drama or straight up exploitation. It’s like the emptiest sex you’ve never had.
Both DVD and Blu-Ray presentations are fine, with the HD disc obviously bringing out finer detail in Daniels excellent compositions. Extras comprise twenty minutes of interviews with the cast and filmmakers (it’s a very broad carousel of opinions on characters and the initial pre-production), and a basic six-minute making-of featurette. A basic package for an ultimately average film.
Director: Lee Daniels
Stars: Zac Efron, Matthew McConaughey, Nicole Kidman
Runtime: 107 min
COuntry: USA
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