Peeping Tom

 SPOILER ALERT! The plot will be discussed.

Peeping Tom (1960) came out the same year as Psycho, and both films show up in Roger Ebert’s book, The Great Movies. They are both daring artistic psychological works that explore homicidal behavior linked to parent-child dysfunction. They also implicate the audience in wishing to participate in the main character’s perversion through voyeurism. Peeping Tom is even more focused on the connection between filmmaking and watching the private and sometimes gruesome experiences of others.

The first images of the film are of a target with arrows shot at a bull’s eye. We immediately have a weapon present and a phallic symbol in the form of the arrow that penetrates and, in this case, is also linked to danger. We then see a human eye (remember Janet Leigh’s dead accusing look at Hitchcock’s audience), which adds to the theme of voyeurism, amplified by the man who is secretly filming a woman in front of a shop window. The sexual aspect is evident when she announces her price, which reveals her to be a prostitute. He follows her to her place, and we see things through the viewfinder of the camera which stands in for the view of the predator (not the first time we see events from the killer’s perspective and certainly not the last in films). We hear the sound of a knife (the same phallic weapon that Norman Bates uses) being unsheathed and then witness the horror of the woman as she is attacked.

The killer is Mark Lewis (Carl Boehm), and he returns to the scene of his crime, filming the aftermath, pretending to be a photojournalist. He records his excursion (he later says he is making a documentary) into this dark realm of fear as the police are there, removing the victim from her home, appropriately covered in a red blanket. He works at a store that contains adult material where he photographs young women in sexy outfits. He repeats what the proprietor has told him that magazines that sell are “those with girls on the front covers, and no front covers on the girls.” So, voyeurism is a business that is profitable, and part of society, although people may not want to acknowledge its presence. Thus, a customer receives his nudie pictures in an envelope marked “educational material.”

When Mark goes into a backroom to do his work one of the models says that her fiancé caught her with another man, and she tells Mark to make sure that her bruises don’t show in the photos. The film shows the seedy side of life and how we try to cover it up, which is what the mainstream movie industry has done in its past. When he takes a while to take her picture, the model, Milly (Pamela Green) asks if he has a girlfriend hidden under the camera’s drape. She is kidding, but she is correct because Mark’s lover is the camera, and his intimacy presents itself in a voyeuristic fashion.

The other model we see only in profile at first. She looks lovely, but then she turns to face Mark and reveals a facial deformity on her right side. She wants the disfigurement to stay hidden, but Mark takes out his own camera and says he wants to shoot her as she is. He does not shrink from the unpleasant side of things. The film may be saying we may kid ourselves that life is not tainted, but that is not reality.

The next scene is at Helen Stephens’s (Anna Massey) apartment where she is celebrating her twenty-first birthday with other tenants. She is attractive and one would think innocent, although her blind mother (Maxine Audley) grunts when a guest expresses a compliment about Helen. Those present see Mark peering in from outside a window. He looks like, well, a Peeping Tom. The lattice work of the window looks like a viewfinder, adding to the connection between film, Mark, and us. Mark lives upstairs, and Helen greets him in the hall, inviting in the outsider, but he declines.

Later there is a knock at Mark’s door, and he immediately does what we all do, try to make the place look presentable, not wanting others to see that we don’t live in a messy home. Only Mark’s dirtiness includes his tapes of his sordid activities. He’s an extreme extension of everyday people. Helen is bringing him a piece of cake. He is awkward with others because of his anti-social personality. He reveals that he has lived in that building his whole life. He inherited it from his father, so, he is the landlord, although nobody knows this fact. As the model Milly noted, he is a puzzle. He seems so shy and gentle on the surface (like Norman Bates, whose name sounds like “normal”). He asks if the rent is too high and is willing to lower it. When she says not to tell the others that he is willing to lower the cost, she says the renters will give him no “peace.” He repeats the word, as if not knowing what it means, implying he has had none.

He admits that he works in photography and hopes to direct a film (director Michael Powell possibly making the link between voyeurism and filmmaking. Mark even has a director’s chair). Helen is perceptive since she must have heard his projector as she asks if he was watching a movie reel. He admits that he was, and she asks if it was his own work. She asks to see it, as a sort of birthday gift. He seems willing to let her view his work and maybe feels that he has found someone with whom he can share his secrets. He lets her see his dark room that she admits is huge. The size suggests that there is a vast subconscious, shadowy world below the surface of Mark’s outwardly benign appearance. She stumbles there, implying that the underside of the human psyche can be scary.

He almost shows her what he was looking at, the removal of the girl he murdered, but he decides not to be that open with her. He instead displays a film of himself as a child, which his father, a scientist, took. The implication is that his father was the influence on Mark’s interest in photography, which is confirmed when there is a scene of his father giving him a camera, the one he still has. The home movie shows how his father experimented on him to see his reaction to fear. He would shine a bright light into young Mark’s eyes which caused him to cry. He dropped a lizard in his bed to frighten him. He also filmed the child looking at two lovers kissing and embracing in the park. He also documented Mark’s reaction to his dead mother and her burial. Helen is obviously upset by these images. Mark now wants to record Helen as she looks at the home movie. His father taught Mark to live life through observing and recording people in distress, and it’s as if Mark is continuing his parent’s scientific studies. Director Powell’s camera shows Mark looking through the turning reel of the film, stressing how he is tied to seeing life through the camera.

As Helen questions him about what this all means, Mark strokes the camera, a masturbatory action again linking how he can only get excited by way of his voyeurism. There is the image of Mark’s young stepmother coming out of the water on the beach, scantily clad in a two-piece swimsuit. We have arousal in an inappropriate way displayed here by means of observation. He calls her the “successor,” as if this woman dethroned the queen in Mark’s life only six weeks after his mother passed away.

After Helen sees how disturbed Mark is, she tells him to turn off the camera. She moves him away from the dark room, as if she is getting him out of his dark state of mind, into the lit outer room, where she wants to shed light on what she saw. Mark tells her his father was a biologist and wanted to know how fear registered on the nervous system, especially with children. We see volumes of his father’s books on the topic. Mark says he had no privacy since his father was always filming him. Thus, he has no problem invading the privacy of others based on his upbringing. Mark seems to rationalize that his father learned from him, and some benefitted from his father’s work. However, Helen doesn’t buy the excuse.

There is then a quick cut to a film set (called The Walls are Closing In, a foreshadowing) where Mark works, but the impression is that we have stepped out of the story and are witnessing the filming of the movie we are watching. It is a deliberate attempt to link imaginary reel life with actual reality. There is a discussion of whether a movie is commercial enough to be made, which fits the making of this controversial work we are watching. There was a criticism of Powell using himself and his son for the characters of young Mark and his father given the disturbing material of the story. The movie takes the joining of fictional and actual characters to a daring level.

The stand-in actress in the movie Mark is working on, Vivian (Moira Shearer), is supposed to have a secret meeting with Mark about her dancing after the end of the workday. She stays behind to meet him after the set shuts down, but she encounters a dark studio (like Mark’s dark room?). Then spotlights turn on her just the way Mark’s father used bright lights on Mark. He has the place set up with props and marks like a director. He tells Vivian that they will be doing a shoot, which allows him to present the guise of a film piece to manipulate her. He says he wants her to play frightened, which ironically, she says she doesn’t feel afraid. He tells her to imagine that someone is approaching her to kill her, which is what he is actually doing. He agrees that the killer is a madman, and says, “but he knows it, and you don’t.” Mark here seems to realize his mental illness but can’t stop his pathology. He removes the cover at the end of the camera tripod revealing a knife attached to the end. He then records Vivian’s fear as he moves forward amid her screams and kills her. The image of the lethal tripod leg merges Mark’s voyeurism with that of the audience as we vicariously participate with the character in this crime, linking us with Mark’s perversion. Just like Norman Bates, the knife becomes a demonic form of sexual deviance, used for penetration that also destroys.

Mrs. Stephens is a despondent woman who drinks alcohol to excess. However, even though she is blind she senses the suspicious nature of the photographer living upstairs. She says, “I don’t trust a man who walks quietly,” and that his footsteps are “stealthy.” She does condone Helen visiting him. Mark gives her a pin and when she moves the placement of where she might affix the gift, Mark moves his hands to the same places on his upper body. Ebert says Mark here becomes a camera himself, recording what he sees through his own lenses. Again, he seems to only exist by way of what he observes. She tells him she is a librarian working in the children’s section of the library and has had short stories published. She recently had a book accepted about a magical camera and wants him to help her add photos as part of her story. He is thrilled but adds a chilling note that sometimes he photographs some things for no charge. The contrast of the innocence of children and Mark’s dark side is implied here.

While shooting on the movie set, an actor must move a trunk, which is especially heavy. We realize from the deadly encounter with Mark that Vivian’s body is in the trunk, which is discovered in short order. The police, who are also investigating the prior murder of the prostitute, notice the same look of terror on the body of Vivian as they saw on the hooker. As they interview those involved with the making of the film, Mark photographs the proceedings. Mark talks with a fellow worker and says that he is filming the police as part of his “documentary.” The other man jokingly questions whether they will catch Mark recording them. He answers in the affirmative, but he is talking about arresting him for the killings. It implies that he feels that he will be apprehended eventually. When the man asks jokingly if he is crazy, Mark says, “Yes. Do you think they’ll notice?” He is admitting to his deranged mental state, but he is cloaking it in a humorous exchange.

Chief Inspector Gregg (Jack Watson) interviews Mark, who offers his camera as a way, most likely, to show that he is cooperating with the police as to any filming that may prove useful to the investigation. But he constantly reaches out for it during the scene, like a man reaching for his lover, or even a part of himself. Mark photographs the removal of the body from the rafters. As he leans over, objects fall out of his pocket, but he is not discovered, at least not yet. All the above takes place on the movie set, sealing the emotional connection between the fictitious moviemaking and actual events.

The sightless Mrs. Stephens again shows her perceptive abilities as she can feel Mark looking in on them again through the window. She jokingly says, “Why don’t we make a present of that window?” When she shakes his hand she says that he has been running. He says he was hurrying to see Helen, but we know he was escaping the movie studio. Mrs. Stephens asks Mark about the dead actress, but he claims he didn’t know her. The look on his face shows that he registers the mother’s suspicious nature.

On their way to dinner, Helen suggests that Mark doesn’t need to take his always-present camera with him that night. He is defensive at first, but admits that he trusts Helen, and they lock it in what was once Mark’s mother’s room. Mark seems genuinely happy to be with Helen. But, as they head out, he sees a couple kissing, and he instinctively reaches for where his camera would be slung over his shoulder, ready to capture the passion between the man and woman vicariously.

They have a nice evening, but their joy is intercut with the timer ticking away to clock his developing film. The image suggests that the movie we are watching is counting downward, and possibly that Mark’s time is growing short. It may also mean that despite Mark’s attempt to escape his obsession, it is always in the background. When Helen retrieves his camera, she points at herself and wonders how it would photograph her. Mark grabs it out of her hands, repressing the thought of filming her murder. He says he will not film her because, “whatever I photograph I always lose.” How true when it comes to ending a person’s life. She kisses him goodnight, but he doesn’t respond with any passion. After she leaves, he kisses the lens of the camera, emphasizing his displaced, detached emotional personality that can only become involved at a distance.

While looking at the film he made of Vivian, Mrs. Stephens surprises him. This is a fascinating scene. We have a blind woman at home in the photographer’s dark room. She has heard him every night running his camera. She can keep him at bay with her pointy cane, a version of his knife-like tripod. He is on the defensive here at first. She asks what he is looking at and says he can lie to her, but he perceives her intuition and knows she would know the truth. Vivian’s projected image is partially on the screen and also on his back, visually implicating him in her fear. The film ends and he lunges toward the white film screen, arms raised. It appears as if he has been crucified by his own obsession. He says that the light ends too quickly, and he needs a new opportunity. He is talking about what he has filmed but what his words imply is that he feels compelled to seek another victim. It appears it is going to be the mother. However, Mark relents. The two continue to speak in a code as if they are talking about film. But what Mrs. Stephens says is that he needs to seek help and doesn’t want him to see her daughter until he does. He says he will never “photograph” Helen, which means he would not harm her. She says they would move away if he became a threat to Helen. He escorts her back to her place, and she warns him that he will have to tell someone about his problem, a confession really, and the implication is that it will either be a psychiatrist or the police.

Back on the movie set, there is a psychiatrist there to aid the traumatized lead actress. Taking Mrs. Stephens’ advice, Mark asks the shrink, who knew about Mark’s father, if he had insight on someone being a “Peeping Tom.” The technical term is scopophilia according to the psychiatrist. Mark is hopeful, symbolized by his raising the stage elevator as he talks to the psychiatrist. When he hears that it would take a few years of continuous analysis to cure, Mark becomes despondent, as he lowers the lift appropriately. The Chief Inspector is on the set and the psychiatrist mentions to him that Mark was asking about voyeurism, which piques the policeman’s interest. The fellow worker he spoke to before gives Mark a photo of a beautiful woman, which Mark says gives him “an idea.” He then speaks to the man who employs him to shoot sexy photographs. The audience may suspect that he may make one of the models his next victim.

The police are now following Mark as he goes to the store to photograph Millie. Mark realizes he is being tailed and it appears that he films the model, then leaves the store, locking up the place. Meanwhile, Helen seeks out Mark, who is not back yet. She turns on one of his cameras, and we see only her response. Her face goes from being in the light to being hidden in darkness, which reflects what she is witnessing. She gasps and whimpers, seeking escape from the room as she realizes the horror of what she is looking at. Mark shows up and she wants to know if the film she watched was just from his “magic” camera, creating an illusion. But he confesses that he killed the women. He tells her that she should stay in the shadows because if he can’t see her fear, she will be safe. How much his father warped Mark is very evident here.

The store proprietor informs the police that he found Milly’s body. So, Mark is allowing himself to get caught. He is driven to commit his crimes, but he is also a sympathetic character because he realizes his mental illness and wants to end his lethal actions. He reveals to her that his father had the whole house wired for sound. and he plays back his screams that his father recorded. She sees his torment and wants to understand what he actually did. He tells her he let his victims see their fear being recorded in a distorted reflection as the tripod knife penetrated their throats. He acts out but does not consummate the crime with Helen. He records his own fear, as his father once did, as he kills himself with his own weapon. The police burst in right after his suicide as a film reel stops rolling, reflecting the end of the movie.

The film has shown us that we are getting our thrills by also being Peeping Toms. At the end of the movie, we hear Mark’s father saying to his young son that there’s nothing to be afraid of. Despite the fact that we are watching a piece of fiction, our fear is real.

O Brother, Where Art Thou

 SPOILER ALERT! The plot will be discussed.

In the film Sullivan’s Travels, the main character is a filmmaker who travels to find what real life is about and make a film entitled O Brother Where Art Thou? In the Coen Brothers movie with that title, we have a farcical version of true life, reversing the process of the earlier motion picture’s protagonist, but showing the real-life situations beneath the exaggerated exterior. The opening notes cite The Odyssey as the film’s source material, but the tone here is mock epic.

The main character is Ulysses Everett McGill (George Clooney), and his real goal is to return to his wife, Penny (Holly Hunter). So, the names and the quest establish the link to Homer’s epic, Penny referring to Penelope in Homer’s epic. This Ulysses, however, is a convict, not a war hero, a character that can be associated with everyday life. Clooney excels in delivering fast-paced, pretentious speech here, as he also does in the Coens’ Intolerable Cruelty. His language is in contrast to the lowly situation he is in, since he is incarcerated in a chain gang. There are many contrasts here as the whimsical, humorous aspects contrast with the bigotry and corruption in the tale. As Adam Nayman points out in his book The Coen Brothers, the song included in the film, “The Big Rock Candy Mountain,” suggests a utopia where “the downtrodden and dispossessed” do not exist, which is in direct contrast to what the Coens depict in their Depression-era movie. Nayman says the colors used in the cinematography are vivid, making the film a “gilded Dust Bowl” story. Again, there is that sense of artifice stressed in the midst of a movie relating a dark time in American history. (The soundtrack of traditional, downhome music was a hit and received the Grammy for “Album of the Year.).

The movie begins with this Ulysses handcuffed to other convicts on a chain gang, the volatile Pete (John Turturro) and the intellectually challenged but sweet Delmar (Tim Blake Nelson). Being bound together physically brings about an emotional bonding despite the differences in these characters and adds an optimistic aspect to the story.

The three men escape their captivity, and as Nayman points out, we see them popping into the horizon like plants growing out of the soil. Nayman says that the whole film has this universal homage to what is basic and universal to humankind, as if the men were “products of the rich, fertile Delta soil.” Perhaps the Coens using a mythological structure means that they are aiming at the universal that binds us all.

They visit Pete’s cousin who removes the shackles, change out of their prison garb, and spend the night in the barn. Everett tells the other two men he has over a million dollars that he hid from a robbery and will split it with them if they help him. However, the cousin called the police to get the reward on the men. Greed is a continuing theme in the Coens’ films, and it does harm to those who worship profit and the collateral damage associated with monetary gain. Everett utters a repeated phrase here when he says, “We’re in a tight spot!” The words are in opposition to his usual long-winded style when not in immediate danger. They are able to escape with the help of the cousin’s son, which shows compassion in the midst of selfishness.

The travelers come across a religious group. Delmar and Pete feel the need for salvation and are baptized. Everett, the rational-minded member, does not participate. However, despite the draw of splitting Everett’s cash, the desire for the other two to mend their ways shows that they are more upstanding than others in society who appear upright morally. Delmar is childlike, and it is that incorruptible aspect that puts him in contrast to the schemers that the men encounter on their journey. It’s as if the real culprits of society are on the loose, and the three convicts are minor transgressors in the scheme of things. These scenes are played broadly, but, as Nayman says, “lowbrow humor is deployed in the service of social commentary.”

The men then meet a hitchhiker, a black musician named Tommy Johnson (Chris Thomas King), who plays guitar and says he made a pact with the devil to become talented. Tommy says that Satan is not the scaly creature people envision, but is actually “white, as white as you folks. With empty eyes and a big hollow voice. He likes to travel around with a mean old hound.” For the black man, the devil is white, especially at this time. As it turns out later, we discover the demon is a policeman, one who is supposed to stand for morality, but instead is the devil beneath the trappings of justice.

The foursome come across a radio station run by a blind man (Stephe Root) who thinks the fellows are a black musical group. They record a song, “Man of Constand Sorrow,” as the “Soggy Bottom Boys” and collect some money for the performance. They do not realize it, but the recording becomes a hit, which helps them later. Nayman says that the blind DJ shows a white man’s not recognizing the music of African Americans and it is an example of cultural appropriation. However, could it also mean that music is universal, and thus it addresses people of all backgrounds despite its source?

The police are on their trail, headed by the devil-like Sheriff Cooley (Daniel von Bargen). They escape but become separated from Tommy. They run into “Baby Face” Nelson (Michael Badalucco) and are drawn into a bank robbery. Nelson is an unhinged character, and his nickname is in sync with the theme of the film in that the gangster’s innocent name hides a nasty fellow underneath.

The next attack on their innocence comes in a form that mirrors the temptation of the Sirens in The Odyssey. Beautiful women sing and do their laundry in the river. They are awash in clingy, wet clothes that stress their allure that draws the men to them. The next morning Delmar finds Pete missing. Inside his strewn clothes is a frog, and the superstitious Delmar believes the women cast a spell and turned Pete into the creature. The Coens continue to give us a magical exterior to the story, but it again is a coating of artifice that storytellers use to embellish the harshness of reality.

At a restaurant Everett and Delmar meet Big Dan Teague (John Goodman). He has that way with words that reflects a kinship with Everett. Big Dan has one eye, so he is the cyclops character in this version of the Ulysses tale. He is a bible salesman. All of this is a front that hides a mean character beneath the friendly surface. In a field where they are having a picnic, he beats up the two men, steals what money they have, kills the frog Delmar was carrying, and steals their car. Big Dan is the Mr. Hyde to Everett’s Dr. Jekyll.  

Everett and Delmar arrive at Everett’s hometown where Everett tries to talk with his wife, Penny, who is taking care of their seven daughters (seven being a magical number which fits in with the mythic framework of the story?) She is so ashamed of him she told the children he was killed. Penny is now engaged to Vernon T. Waldrip, who is the campaign manager for Homer Stokes (Wayne Duvall), who is running for governor. Nayman believes Waldrip is a reference to a writer, Howard Waldrop, who wrote a story that re-envisioned the labors of Hercules to the time of the Depression. In a way is what the Coens are doing with this film, reimagining a mystical tale. Stokes is another fraud. He acts like he is planning on getting rid of corruption, while in fact he is the head of the local KKK. He has a little person with him on the campaign using a broom to symbolize sweeping things clean for the “little” people in society. As Nayman points out, it is a condescending image, and the man’s campaign smacks of the “proximity of populist rhetoric and fascist ideology.”

Everett and Delmar find Pete (not a frog) as part of a prison chain again. The prisoners are in the audience in a movie theater (a film within a film? The Coens stressing storytelling?). He was turned in by the Sirens (more deviousness). They help Pete escape. Everett now reveals that there is no armored car stash of money. He was arrested for practicing law without a license – not so horrendous a crime compared to acts committed by some others - and all he wants to do is get back with his wife. His other character flaw may be his vanity, insisting on using “Dapper Dan” pomade. The problem is they will get fifty years for escaping, a geometrical multiplication of original infractions, which points to inequities in the legal system.

These three Depression musketeers come upon a KKK meeting where the white-robed Klansmen are ready to hang their pal, Tommy. Although the KKK rally mimics The Wizard of OZ, a fantasy, with its chanting like the scene in the 1939 film, what is happening is actually frightening. Stokes says, “Oh brothers … our women … looking to us for protection. From Darkies! From Jews! From papists, and from all those smart-ass folks say we come descended from monkeys! That’s not my culture and heritage!” The call to “brothers” echoes the title of the film, which here questions what people stand for. The three men are admirable as they rescue their African American friend in a dangerous situation (like the Scarecrow, Tin Man and Cowardly Lion helped Dorothy), and show their place on the moral measuring stick. They topple a burning cross onto KKK member Big Dan in a bit of ironic justice, apparently killing the brute.

The four men come upon a campaign rally for governor. When they sing “Man of Constant Sorrow,” they reveal themselves as the Soggy Bottom Boys, and are wildly popular. The dancing and mugging as they sing the song is diverting, but the song identifies the four men with the hardships of everyday people. The crowd condemns Homer Stokes who derails himself by attacking the Boys for ruining his KKK rally. The shrewd current governor, Pappy O’Daniel (Charles Durning), embraces the Boys, knowing he will win the popularity of the masses. He pardons them. It is a left-handed way of doing the right thing.

Penny says she will take Everett back, but he must retrieve her wedding ring from their old cabin. The men go there but Sheriff Cooley is present and doesn’t care about a pardon. His men have dug their graves. Everett prays and then there is divine intervention this time to save them. A biblical-like flood immerses the valley. The men come across a floating desk and retrieve a ring from it (it almost reminds one of how Ishmael is saved in Moby Dick). However, when Everett gets back to Penny, she tells him that it’s not the right ring, which is now at the bottom of the lake. The man is always in that tight spot. Finding the ring at the end is like a Herculean task, an impossible thing in the real world, which fits with the mythic, mock-epic feel of this story.

Nayman sums up the way the Coens present their story by saying, “art with a message is less valuable than that which sets out, energetically and unpretentiously, to entertain.”

Bottoms Up

 No, that is not the title of a movie. It is, however, the title of a short story I have written. It is a mystery that deals with the issue of domestic violence. You can find it on Kindle if you search my last name, "Cileone," on Amazon. 

The next film to be analyzed is O Brother Where Art Thou? 

JFK

 SPOILER ALERT! The plot will be discussed.

JFK (1991), directed by Oliver Stone, is a conspiracy theory film about an alleged plot to kill President John F. Kennedy on November 22, 1963, that was propagated at the highest levels of the United States government. Donald Trump is not the only person who believes in the idea of a “deep state.” This movie is factually suspicious. However, the craft in making it, especially the editing and cinematography, is exemplary as it presents a vast number of clipped images that explode with information and power. As Roger Ebert said in his book, The Great Movies, the film has “emotional truth,” since it captures the feelings of the country whose citizens were confused, angry, and hungry for answers concerning this national tragedy. I think it might be best to see the film as a fictional thriller based loosely on actual events. Ebert also states that despite the numerous scenes, which include flashbacks, the feel is feverish, which fits the agitated drive that fueled the desire to answer questions about the killing of President Kennedy. The camera work often adds to the feeling of authenticity with the appearance of a documentary, as narrators speak while the images flash before the audience. Stone’s premise is that in a conspiracy, one must look below the fictitious façade to find the truth beneath.

The story is partially based on the book, On the Trail of the Assassins, by New Orleans District Attorney Jim Garrison, played by Kevin Costner, who investigated the shooting of President Kennedy. The film starts with Kennedy’s predecessor, President Dwight D. Eisenhower, the general in the U. S. Army that led the Allies in World War II in Europe, who warned against the danger in the growing power of the “military-industrial complex.” (The opening narration is supplied by Martin Sheen). The opening states that Kennedy didn’t provide air cover for the anti-Castro forces at the Bay of Pigs, which was a disaster for Kennedy’s attempt to overthrow communist-led Cuba and its leader Fidel Castro. The movie states that Kennedy felt the CIA “lied” to him and attempted to “manipulate” him about the operation. In archival footage, Kennedy stated that it would be difficult to win a war in Vietnam. He also stated that he did not want the United States to dominate the world with its military, but instead wanted a one-world community. The film hypothesizes that “military-industrial complex” saw Kennedy as a threat to their existence.

Garrison investigated the New Orleans connection to the assassination by way of private pilot David Ferrie (Joe Pesci). Ferrie’s story about not knowing Oswald, who lived in New Orleans for a while, and who was in Ferrie’s military unit, and his contradictory comments about being in Texas after the assassination, cause Garrison to keep him for the FBI investigation. Garrison was rocking the boat by questioning the cover story of Ferrie, and eventually of the United States Government itself. The Federal Government dismisses any connection between Ferrie and Oswald without notifying Garrison’s office. After Jack Ruby (Brian Doyle Murray) kills the alleged assassin, Lee Harvey Oswald (Gary Oldman), the investigation ends. One member of Garrison’s team, Bill Broussard (Michael Rooker), says, after seeing Ruby shoot Oswald on TV in front of many policemen, “This is crazy.” His words reflect what practically everybody felt at the time.

However, Garrison, following the Warren Commission completed study of the killing in 1966, felt there were discrepancies in the report and reopened the investigation. There is a question as to Oswald’s ability to fire off his weapon with such accuracy and precision, and that shots were heard coming from the infamous “grassy knoll” near the assassination. Supposedly the route Kennedy took was changed which, according to Garrison’s team, would allow for a better attack from multiple shooters.

Jack Lemmon gives a great performance as Jack Martin, a frightened individual who witnessed Guy Bannister (Ed Asner), a brutal man who recruited for far-right extremist organizations and hated Kennedy, meeting with Oswald and Ferrie, along with Cuban anti-communist sympathizers in the midst of the American intelligence center in New Orleans. Bannister also conferred with Clay Bertrand (Tommy Lee Jones), a local bigwig. They were gathering guns for another Cuban invasion, which Kennedy shut down. Bannister considered the president’s death would bring about a “New Frontier,” ironically taking Kennedy’s words. Bannister beat Martin when he questioned Martin’s loyalty.

Effective supporting performances abound in this film. John Candy plays a sweating flamboyant lawyer (the sweat was real) named Dean Andrews, Jr., who says that his client, Clay Bertrand, also known, as we find out as Clay Shaw, a homosexual, wanted to hire Andrews to defend Oswald. Shaw was involved with Willie O’Keefe (Kevin Bacon) and Ferrie in gay parties. (Despite Costner's Garrison's denial of the homosexual element having anything to do with the investigation, the film portrays gay men as villains). Garrison finds out about these relationships when he meets with the imprisoned O’Keefe. The inmate says he met with Oswald once, too, through Clay. He says that Ferrie ranted about Kennedy being a Communist and that he could be taken out in an open area with triangulation of sharpshooters, with one man being sacrificed as a patsy, which is what Oswald said he was later. Garrison learns from witnesses that support Ferrie’s plan. But the belief that there were multiple shooters, and that Oswald knew Ruby were dismissed by the Warren Commission, which also showed that accounts of what happened as reported by people earlier were later changed. O’Keefe spouts pro-fascist beliefs, which makes Garrison question Oswald’s pro-communist backstory since O’Keefe said Oswald associated with far-right men. However, Broussard knows that O’Keefe’s sexual orientation and beliefs would make him less than a credible witness (especially in 1966). Garrison is funny when he says why is it that a woman, just because she is a prostitute, can’t have good eyesight.

Garrison’s group discovers that Oswald’s income tax and other records are “classified” so that even law enforcement people can’t obtain them. He supposedly defected to Russia but was able to get back in the country with his Russian wife with no problem. Garrison suggests to his team that Oswald was a CIA operative who was used by the intelligence community to take the fall for the assassination. Broussard begins to find it difficult to believe that the American intelligence community would kill the Commander-in-Chief. The movie challenges what we want to believe by suggesting there may be an alternative way of looking at what happened.

As Garrison becomes immersed in his suspicions about the assassination, his home life with his wife, Liz (Sissy Spacek), deteriorates, as he misses family events. He has nightmares about the contradictions he sees in the Warren Report. (There is a shot of Garrison’s child watching cartoons that show characters having a shootout and playing with toy guns while Garrison and his team discuss the case. These scenes show how early in life children are exposed to gun violence in the country).

As the story plays out, there is an increasing sense of doom as witnesses die, including Bannister and Ferrie, and Garrison’s investigation hits roadblocks. There is the possibility that unseen powerful forces are trying to tie up loose ends. Garrison’s office is bugged. Martin told Garrison he is “so naïve” to think nobody cares what they are investigating.

Garrison’s team supposedly finds evidence that makes it look like someone was impersonating Oswald, showing up in Dallas, acting conspicuously, so that witnesses would testify that he was staking out the area before the assassination. This activity would aid in setting up Oswald as the fall guy. This information adds to the theme of how false appearances appear to be trustworthy.

While the story continues, Stone inserts TV footage of the Vietnam War cranking up, which implies that that military-industrial complex was benefiting from the change in the presidency from Kennedy to Lyndon Johnson.

Garrison finds out that Clay Bertrand who was seeking counsel for Oswald and knew Ferrie, is really Clay Shaw, a prominent New Orleans citizen, who says he admired Kennedy. Garrison calls him in on Easter Sunday for an interview. The date seems ironic given that the holy day contrasts with the dire events that are discussed. It also adds to the idea that what is on the pleasant surface above hides the dark truth below, which is at the heart of all conspiracies. He accuses Shaw of having conducted business for the CIA, and is a secret operative, adding to the belief that the intelligence agency participated in the assassination. As Garrison said earlier, his team has gone through the looking glass, as did Alice in Wonderland, and reality is being reversed. Garrison says, “white is black, and black is white.” Garrison tries to cut through Clay’s Southern surface charm and hospitality as he tells Clay, who says he is a patriot, that he finds it odd that conspiring to kill a president is likened to being patriotic. Garrison is finding what people claim to be the truth here is suspect. After Shaw leaves, Garrison adds to the movie’s theme of hypocrisy when he quotes Shakespeare, saying, “One may smile, and smile and be a villain.”

After the interview with Shaw, the investigation becomes public, and Garrison suspects Shaw of publicizing Garrison’s actions. Reporters now hound the DA is and he is accused of grandstanding and misusing public funds. Ferrie feels he is now a target due to his association with Shaw and Oswald exposed to the public. In a hysterical scene, Ferrie admits to working for the CIA, as was Oswald. He claims Shaw is an “untouchable” in the Agency. He says that there was so much secrecy, that the truth was even hidden from the actual shooters in the assassination, so deep does the deep state go. He admits that the CIA and the Mafia worked together to try to kill Castro, which indicates that there is no defining line between what is legal and illegal.

Garrison meets with a Mr. “X” (Donald Sutherland) who was involved in “black ops,” and in many overseas coup d’états. He was transferred out just before the assassination and read a whole background story on Oswald in a New Zealand newspaper before Oswald was charged. His professional assessment was that it was a cover story (false appearance again) to distract people from the truth. He believes he was sent to the South Pole to stop him from allowing better security in hostile Dallas, where protection of the President was allowed to be lax. Kennedy fired several powerful intelligence officers and planned to withdraw what troops there were in Vietnam. Kennedy also was slashing defense spending. Kennedy’s actions were a threat to that military-industrial complex, which “X” believes got Kennedy killed. Here we have a man hiding under the surface, not even revealing his own name, but who actually wants to bring truth into the light of day.

After Garrison arrests Clay Shaw, he is dismissed as an agent involved in the assassination by Earl Warren, and the FBI gives no credence to Garrison’s assertions. There are lies put forth about how Garrison intimidated, bribed, and drugged witnesses, and that he was tied to gangsters. In this film, we again have a false front put on again, in this case a negative appearance to cover the positive motives of an individual. Garrison suffers tax audits and is forced to leave the National Guard based on what the movie sees as a persecution of Garrison for getting too close to the truth of the conspiracy.

Broussard can’t tolerate the idea that Lyndon Johnson might have been involved in the assassination, as Garrison implies. He leaves the investigation, but he returns later to tell him that he heard of a hit placed on Garrison, which follows a previous threat against the DA’s daughter. But Broussard trying to help Garrison is phony, and he actually tries to set Garrison up at an airport restroom to insinuate that Garrison had a homosexual encounter. The team discovers that Broussard turned all their findings over to the FBI. The traitor (again, someone who appears to be other than he is) in their midst is especially upsetting to Garrison and his people, who are besieged on all sides.

Martin Luther King, Jr., an outspoken critic of the Vietnam War, was assassinated in 1968. and a couple of months later, Robert Kennedy is killed. Garrison predicted that “they” wouldn’t allow Kennedy to get elected and carry on his brother’s anti-military policies. Garrison’s wife now believes her husband’s quest is a just one as the enormity of what is happening hits them both. Garrison confesses that he is now truly “scared,” not for himself, but for the country, as democracy and the virtues on which the nation was established are threatened. They find solace in each other’s arms as a sanctuary from the assault on the nation.

The trial of Clay Shaw begins, but Garrison has trouble getting subpoenas and extraditions. The defense attorney attacks the character of the state’s witnesses, accusing one of being one a liar, another a drug addict, and another unbalanced mentally. The lawyer Dean Andrews now disavows under oath any of the statements Garrison says Andrews made to him. The judge says that Saw admitting to the alias of Bertrand is inadmissible because a lawyer wasn’t present, which Garrison says is never required when someone is being asked if using another name. Shaw of course denies doing anything wrong or even knowing those who supposedly he conspired with.

Then comes the long speech by Garrison that includes discussion about the “magic bullet” theory propagated by the Warren Commission. He details how impossible is the theory of so much damage being done by one shot. By using the Abraham Zapruder film, which was locked away for five years, his point is to show to what illogical lengths the conspiracy has gone to cover up the truth.

The jury found Clay Shaw innocent based on the evidence, but one juror stated that there was a belief that there was a conspiracy. The end credits note that, later, the CIA admitted that Clay Shaw was a part-time contract agent for the intelligence agency, and that secret records concerning the assassination would not be released until 2029. Some were later released by the Trump Administration.

Garrison at the end of his speech says, “it’s up to you,” to fight for truth, to look behind the lies and preserve the ideals of the United States. He is talking to the jury, but Costner is looking right at the camera, and at us. We are the ones Oliver Stone is addressing.