One False Move 4K

This crime tale was a critical success when new, but it could have ended up on a dusty video rental shelf, next to the generic action shoot ’em ups or an ‘erotic thriller’ by Andrew Stevens. The independently produced One False Move seemed destined to become a Straight To Video Release, beginning and ending its days on VHS tapes.

But One False Move was rescued from that fate by film critics, mainly Roger Ebert, who declared it a winner worthy of a wide release. Actor-turned-director Carl Franklin’s savior may well have been his producer Jesse Beaton, who we are told supported the picture through a number of production crises, and twisted arms to get it booked into film festivals. Its critical discovery, subsequent wide/regional release and general acceptance made it one of the outstanding independent successes of its day. Sadly, Franklin and Beaton’s luck didn’t hold through their next project. Their upscale Denzel Washington thriller Devil in a Blue Dress should have been the first of a dozen Walter Mosley – Easy Rawlins adaptations.

Frequently labeled as an overachieving neo-noir, One False Move takes its place beside other thrillers with high artistic ambitions, like Stephen Frears’s The Grifters or James Foley’s After Dark, My Sweet. In 1990 ‘neo-noir’ had become a buzzword, but the period officially began way back 1960, after the ‘closing of the noir frontier’ behind Welles’ Touch of Evil. From then on movies fronting a noir sensibility took on on a self-aware, retro quality — Paul Bogart’s Marlowe for one. The basic Film Noir idea wasn’t really introduced here until the ’70s and we first heard the term ‘neo-noir’ in the context of 1981’s Body Heat. After that, most every B&W oldie with a mystery angle could be marketed as noir, and every new picture with a moody intrigue was ‘neo.’ By the time of One False Move neo-noir was practically its own cottage industry.

Pigeonholes aside, One False Move is an exceptional picture all around. Its backers weren’t looking for film festival-level quality, just a marketable product for the video shelf. The production could easily have become an vanity exercise for unemployed actors, but Franklin’s picture really stands out from the crowd.

The disturbingly violent opening wrongly suggests that the show will be a sustained bloodbath. Sadistic thieves Ray Malcolm and ‘Pluto’ (Billy Bob Thornton & Michael Beach) prevail upon Ray’s girlfriend ‘Fantasia’ (Cynda Williams) to help them rip off some cocaine dealers. Pluto is an intelligent psycho who likes to kill with a knife; Ray is a coked-up roughneck with a hair-trigger temper. They slaughter bystanders in two locations, leaving the LAPD’s Dud Cole and John McFeeley (Earl Billings) to sort out the aftermath. A clue on a videotape leads the detectives to Star City, Arkansas and its youthful Chief of Police Dale ‘Hurricane’ Dixon (Bill Paxton). Dale is a hyperactive Good Old Boy. He knows his turf well but has unrealistic dreams of going to a big city to hunt big criminals. His wife Cheryl Ann (Natalie Canerday) sees his unmannered, awkward side, especially regarding race.

Dud and John are initially surprised by Dale’s overanxious and foolhardy impulses. But Dale immediately connects the investigation to an elderly relative of Ray Malcolm, a local. Meanwhile Ray, Pluto and Fantasia are driving through Texas. Ray’s erratic behavior ends up with a State Trooper dead. Fantasia is sent ahead by bus to Star City so she can reconnect with Byron (Robert Anthony Bell), the child she hasn’t seen in five years. When a surveillance photo of Ray and Fantasia reaches Star City, Dale’s blood runs cold: Fantasia’s real name is Lila Walker. Dale had an illicit relationship with her when she was underaged, before she ran away to Los Angeles.  ↑  Dale keeps this damning information to himself.

It’s hard to find a crime thriller that keeps its elements in such perfect balance. Its distinct characters link together in a fascinating tangle of personal secrets. The show doesn’t glamorize the depraved Ray Malcolm, but we do see how the foolish Lila might gravitate to him, just for protection from other predators on the streets of L.A.. A standard policier would tell this story from the POV of the detectives, the decent good guys Dud Cole and John McFeely. The drama instead focuses on the unpredictable Chief Dixon. Dud has to dissuade Dale from making rash decisions, and John can sense that he has a connection to Lila. But the detectives don’t try to edge Dixon out of the investigation, even when Cheryl Ann openly asks Dud to do exactly that, for the Chief’s own good.

One False Move’s volatile personalities are never ‘types,’ but individuals trying to get a grip on events out of their control. The calamity faced by Lila and Dale is interior, not determined by an old-fashioned Noir Fate. Their sad backstory convinces, from Dale’s inability to take responsibility for his actions, to Lila’s devolution into an anything-goes L.A. tramp hooked up with a dangerous felon. Neck-deep in heinous murders, she’s a mix of lost self-respect and broken dreams, acting on instinct alone.

The much-missed actor Bill Paxton makes Dale Dixon one of his best characterizations. Well-suited to Star City’s everyday problems, Dale energetically defuses a violent domestic quarrel. But he doesn’t realize that his work is mainly to maintain the status quo in a poor community divided by race. He thinks the Big Case that’s come to town is a career opportunity. Humiliated by his big-city colleagues, Dale tries to redeem himself by resolving the situation on his own. His ‘big decision’ to stand up for Lila — when he won’t even acknowledge his relationship to her — is heartbreakingly believable.

The film’s racial politics are tied to the characters — Lila is herself the product of an interracial relationship, almost certainly an unfair one. Lila has lived with day-to-day desperation for five years. That she’s retained her spirit is remarkable, yet we fear what she might do out of misplaced self-preservation. The seriously unstable Ray Malcolm makes the cross-country car ride into a tense ordeal — Ray’s volcanic paranoia, broadcasts his fugitive status with every gesture, ruining Lila and Pluto’s efforts to be unobtrusive. These are the last people we want to meet on a highway at night.

Carl Franklin’s direction never courts noir clichés — no shadows, no venetian blinds, no replications of classic compositions. Possible references to older films are subtle. Producer Beaton somehow secured a camera crane for her director, and towering high-angled wide shot over an Arkansas crossroads sees Lila Walker as an outcast returning to troubled roots. The shot would seem to make Lila echo John Ford’s Tom Joad, returning to the dust-ravaged Oklahoma.

Another classic maybe-reference is an audio clue. Dale once told Lila that hearing the song of a Whip-poor-will is an omen that ‘Somebody’s gonna die.’  It’s an inversion of the ‘bell rings / an Angel gets his wings’ motto in It’s a Wonderful Life. Franklin makes suspenseful use of a blues song. When Dale Dixon’s bad choices finally lead him into an unavoidable showdown, it enforces an editorial rhythm, like a funeral march.

One False Move saves its final classic noir echo for the fade-out, which we will not spoil. We can’t help but be reminded of the heartbreaking finale of Michael Curtiz’s The Breaking Point, in which another little boy can’t comprehend the import of what’s happening around him, or the tragedy of his own father.