William Lindsay Gresham's novel gets a second noir screen treatment following the 1947-Tyrone Power version about a self-described hustler in the 1930s who drifts into a traveling freak-show carnival after literally setting his past ablaze. The film has been crafted with style by director Guillermo del Toro (who also co-produced and co-wrote the screenplay-adaptation with Kim Morgan), but it is in no way a profound work--it's all flash. Many will no doubt add their lofty labels to the picture, but I saw it more simply: a rags-to-riches-to-rags melodrama, with a circular finish that didn't sneak up on me or shock me (it plays flatly). Bradley Cooper is solid in the lead role; it isn't a knockout performance, but then I'm not sure either del Toro or Cooper (who also co-produced) meant it to be. Cooper's Stanton Carlisle is, basically, a jerk--an opportunist who seems oblivious of his actions (which is just how Tyrone Power played him in the original). When one of the carnies dies of wood alcohol poisoning--from a bottle given to him by Carlisle, who had to sneak around to get it--we're not sure if this was intentional or a mistake or an act of mercy (the screenplay tries to have it all three ways). Carlisle is haunted--but is it by guilt...remorse...regret? He's an enigma, and a lot of moviegoers will have fun trying to figure him out. Two years after leaving the carnival, wherein he took a hopeful young woman he had emboldened with him, Carlisle has come up with a mind-reading act that he performs with his wife in fancy supper clubs; this is where he comes across Cate Blanchett as a poison-beauty psychologist (and we hardly needed to see Stanton's treacherous tarot card reading to understand she will lead to his downfall). "Nightmare Alley" has a striking Art Deco and snow-swept design that is giddily beautiful--you can enjoy the film purely on visual terms--but the story gives up on itself at a crucial point in the picture. Yes, everything has to go wrong--that's the trap of the "Nightmare"--but the actions of the characters (particularly Rooney Mara's good-girl, Molly) are infuriatingly stupid. Why everyone suddenly has to become hysterical and the plot to lose its logic to get us to that ending is beyond me. It felt like a slap in the face to see the house of cards come down this way. I'm sure all the talents involved thought they were giving us a delicious, twisty plot that would also make us think, but when the people we've been watching and have become absorbed by start acting foolish just to push things along, I sense a calculated and mechanical process behind the imagery. Is the film worth-watching? I would say yes, it's above-average, but it leaves one feeling bitter and used, and I'm not sure if or why del Toro was aiming for such a response. It's a fever dream, but the details don't add up and the action stops making sense. I wanted to feel exhilarated by the protagonist's comeuppance, but the filmmaker apparently wants our sympathies too and it doesn't wash. **1/2 from ****
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