The tell-tale heart beats fervently away beneath the boards, echoing thunderously in my mind, refusing to let me rest. It is the heart of a story with great promise, torn out and buried before its time, leaving nothing but a husk behind - beautiful but hollow. It is the heart of the story; the heart of ‘The Pale Blue Eye.’
Louis Bayer’s 2003 novel - which I have not read, but wish to - holds a promising premise: A young Edgar Allen Poe helps a troubled detective investigate a sinister crime at West Point in the dead of winter, 1830. Scott Cooper’s adaptation for Netflix, however, holds little of the fiery spark inspired by that blurb. All excitement is smothered by the chilly New England cold, leaving a sterile film to cast a mere shadow of its potential.
We meet Augustus Landor (Christian Bale), a reclusive detective hiding from personal tragedy in the woods until he is called out of retirement by the commanders of the Military Academy to investigate a most sensitive case - a young cadet has hung himself, and, while lying in the morgue, his heart has been crudely cut out and stolen. Witchcraft is suspected, and secrecy demanded. Navigating the treacherous politics of the Academy requires Landor to recruit the unlikely aid of a strange young cadet named Edgar Allen Poe (Harry Melling).
Firstly, Melling is brilliant in his role. His post-Potter career has without a doubt been one of the most successful among his fellow former child stars, diving into a series of fascinating, quirky characters. For all its flaws, ‘Pale Blue Eye’ is worth a watch for him alone. Melling’s Poe is a captivating balancing act - quirky and kind enough to be endearing while also creepy enough to be a believable outcast and signal the sort of dark tales that would one day pour forth from his troubled mind. While the rest of the cast are no slouches, he steals every scene he appears in. I’d willingly watch a whole series of this future writer solving crimes.
It would also be remiss to praise the cinematography. Masanobu Takayanagi strikingly captures the frigid sight of New York in winter with visuals as crisp as the frost upon the window panes of 19th Century West Point. The root of the problems here lie deeper. Story is the heart of every movie, and when it is neglected or abused, nothing else works. And this script is as cold as Takayanagi's landscapes.
In adapting Bayard's novel, Scott Cooper falls prey to many of the common pitfalls that trouble novels in their translation to the screen. As we follow Landor and Poe in their quest for the missing heart, the plot quickly becomes hard to follow and inconsistent. In condensing the convoluted mystery into a two hour runtime, clues fall through the crack and supporting cast members feel like little more than window dressing. Worst of all, however, is the twist.
Everyone loves a great twist and, when well-executed, they’re a sure way to make your project go viral. But in the rush to deliver a shocking twist to their mystery, too many writers wind up undermining everything that came before. This is sadly the autopsy report I must issue for ‘The Pale Blue Eye.’ The movie’s climax - an explosive enough revelation as is - winds up rushed, confusing and unsatisfying. The moment everything has been building to is brushed over because the script is rushing to get to the REAL truth that comes after. In the end, neither ending is satisfying.
Ultimately, ‘The Pale Blue Eye’ is pretty to look at, with fun performances from its talented cast. But unlike the real-life Poe - a true master of shocking conclusions - Cooper has traded the soul of his mystery for the drama of a twist, leaving behind the shell of something that could have been truly great. The empty corpse is left on the screen, but the heart is missing; buried somewhere on the cutting room floor.
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