Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil
My first published reviews were in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution‘s “You Be the Critic” section. One of those reviews was for Clint Eastwood’s hotly-anticipated adaptation of John Berendt’s Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. I remember how big a deal it was for Georgia, and Savannah, to be associated with the blockbuster, and that Eastwood was filming in Savannah, where the book takes place. At the time, Georgia was starting to swell into a big movie and TV production state, but it was nowhere near where it is now. That did not cloud my thoughts on the film, though, which was fine, but felt too much about the atmosphere than the story. Twenty four years later, how strange it is that I almost feel like that’s not an issue, even though more reveal themselves?
When the allegations about Kevin Spacey for sexual harassment and sexual assault first became a part of the public consciousness in 2017, the first film most people came to think of as “problematic” in that context was “American Beauty,” and certainly I get it, because it was the same for me. As I prepared to rewatch this film, however, I really started to think this one is, in hindsight, even more so problematic. In Eastwood’s film, Spacey plays Jim Williams, a real-life antiques dealer who killed a male prostitute, and went through four trials before being acquitted just before dying of a heart attack in 1990. If you’ve followed the journey of Spacey’s legal issues- how witnesses in his cases have ended up dead, and how- when the accusations first came up- he used his sexuality as a defense tactic- it’s impossible not to see similarities between Williams and Spacey. If you try to watch the film now, it’s almost like Spacey’s performance as Williams is confessional, and a prelude of what was to come; it throws you out of the film to an extent, and it doesn’t connect the way it probably should.
I have not read Berendt’s book, but what I’ve heard almost makes me feel like, as is, it might be “unfilmable.” I thought, at the time, that Eastwood’s laid-back direction, intended to capture the charm of Savannah, sabotaged the storytelling, but upon rewatch, the moments where Eastwood is focusing on John Kelso- the fictionalized stand-in for Berendt played by John Cusack- just taking in the flavor of Savannah were many of my favorites in the film. The quirky characters he meets, the beautifully-shot city by Jack N. Green, and just taking in the town and atmosphere, is where this film thrives. The soundtrack album is a collection of covers- including many from Savannah’s own Johnny Mercer- and I always loved listening to it; they aren’t quite as prevalent in the film as I remember, but they capture the tone of the film better than the final movie does.
Eastwood feels at odds with the material. The screenplay by John Lee Hancock feels like a traditional courtroom drama narrative which is out to chronicle events without landing any thematic ideas that could be explored. Williams in the film has a sinister side that would have allowed for the film to look at power dynamics in closed communities with more interest than Eastwood’s film has. I’m not quite sure what Eastwood and Hancock are going for in this film beyond showing off Savannah, and having Kelso be the central character is part of the problem. I love Cusack as a performer, and he’s well-suited for this role, but “Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil” saddles him with a conventional “outsiders” narrative- complete with a local love interest, played by Alison Eastwood in the film’s weakest performance- while also making him central to Williams’s defense team. The film condensing the story’s four trials to one is part of the problem; while it was obviously done to streamline the narrative, it also allows for an overcomplication of the story that makes it feel less believable, and when you already have voodoo and invisible dogs in your setting, that’s not a good thing.
At the time, a lot of ink was written on the role of Lady Chablis, a transgender performer in Savannah whom Eastwood had become fascinated by, and whom- in the story- housed Billy Hanson, the gay prostitute Williams murdered (and whom was played by Jude Law). I thought there was too much of her in 1997, but now it’s obvious that she is one of the reasons the film has a pulse. She is instantly charismatic, and does not have much to do with the trial, save for one appearance on the witness stand that feels like a writer’s justification for including her in such a prominent role in the movie, and that charisma carries her scenes further than the rest of the movie can go.
I’m very conflicted on the movie upon rewatch. I love what it shows of Savannah. I think Cusack’s Kelso could have been the right main character with a defter script. I think Spacey’s presence in the film clouds my interest in the narrative, although he’s fine in the movie as an actor. I think Lady Chablis should be cherished for her work in this film. And I think, if you want to feel what Savannah is like, you would be better served just visiting the city, and putting on the well-curated soundtrack of Mercer with some great performances by k.d. lang, Joe Williams, Rosemary Clooney, and Alison Krauss rather than watching the film itself. As a whole, I can’t really recommend this movie.
