(They say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery - but this is just a bit extreme…)
CAST: Sigourney Weaver, Holly Hunter, Dermot Mulroney, Will Patton, Harry Connick Jr., William McNamara.
DIRECTOR: Jon Amiel
WARNING: Some SPOILERS and seriously fucked-up fanboys straight ahead.
There are some jobs that look great and glamorous in movies, but when you see them up close in real life, you thank every saint in heaven that it’s not your occupation. Most of them are in law enforcement. Time after time, movies have portrayed cops as stud muffins or babes who are just a hair below movie stars and supermodels in status. Of course, the reality is very different. I know no cops who like James Franco or Charlize Theron. I’m sure they’re out there, though. Just not in my zip code, time zone, or even my lifetime.
Another law enforcement job that looks absolutely awesome on the silver screen, but is probably a lot less appetizing in reality, is that of “Criminal Psychologist.” Which is the occupation of the heroine of our latest review, COPYCAT. She is San Francisco shrink Dr. Helen Hudson (Sigourney Weaver) who, in her own words, is like “The Muse of Serial Killers.” Now, I don’t know about you folks, but that’s not exactly the kind of thing I’d be bragging about. Just saying…
Sure enough, Dr. Hudson’s rather morbid title catches up to her: after a university lecture that looks to be even better attended than your average Justin Bieber concert, she is attacked by one of the loons that she help put away. He is Darryl Lee Cullum (Harry Connick, Jr.), and he’d be kind of hot if it weren’t for the fact that his front teeth are jacked up. Oh, and the fact that he’s, well, fucking insane is yet another turn-off. Fortunately, Helen is rescued by a cop who looks like he never met a doughnut that he said “no” to. And Darryl Lee gets carted off to the loony bin, where I’m sure he’ll launch a Helen Hudson Fan Club.
I wish I could tell you folks that our good doctor bounces back from the attack like a resilient trooper. I could tell you that - but then I’d be lying through my teeth. Nope, our Helen basically turns into an emotional wreck who does the following: (1) retires from the Criminal Shrink game; (2) locks herself in her house where she never changes out of pajamas; and (3) basically surfs the Internet (or what passes for it in 1995) better than a pimply-faced 15-year old looking for porn. I believe the clinical term for Helen’s condition is “Post-Traumatic Stress With Traces of Agoraphobia.” But I think we can safely call her “A Fucking Wuss Who Doesn’t Have The Balls To Leave Her House.”
In fact, it weren’t for the sudden rash of serial killings that breaks out in the Bay area, Helen probably would’ve withered away in her luxurious loft like a hotter, but no less crazy, version of Mrs. Havisham from GREAT EXPECTATIONS. Unable to turn her back completely on her old racket, Helen calls in anonymous tips to the SFPD, feeding them hints that she used to charge an assload for. How generous of her.
Fortunately, there are actually some intelligent cops on the police force in Frisco. One of them is Mary Jane “M.J.” Monahan (Holly Hunter), and what she lacks in size and height, she makes up for in... hardboiled attitude and major-league cojones. Seriously, folks: this is one relentless chick. She may sound like a mouse, but she’s really a guided tactical fission device. Helen could actually benefit from borrowing some of M.J.’s balls. It doesn’t take long for our teeny-weeny cop to figure out the nutjob who’s been phoning in tips on the new murder case is actually the esteemed and celebrated (and traumatized) Dr. Helen Hudson.
M.J. and her partner Ruben (Dermot Mulroney) home in on Helen like a sailor gunning for the titty bar closest to the docks. Their offer to our basket case doc is fairly simple: officially lend some assistance to SFPD, since she’s already doing it anonymously anyway. After some melodramatic hemming-and-hawwing, our good doctor eventually agrees. One of the first things that Helen deduces is that the killer is doing a Greatest Hits homage to past psychos du jour. First, he dabbles in The Boston Strangler, then he goes Son of Sam, then he even tries a little Hillside Stranglers. Basically, he’s like a high school freshman trying to figure out whether to be a stoner, jock, brain, or hippie - but with a sharp knife.
Will M.J. and Helen figure out our killer’s pattern before he switches styles again? Or will he continue to emulate all the famous serial murderers who came before? Where will this bloody wild-goose chase end? And what is the killer’s plans for Helen? What about for M.J.? Or Ruben? Are either of these two ladies marked for death? What is our baddie ultimately trying to recreate? Why doesn’t he have his own style? Does he need some sort of intervention before he starts imitating Buffalo Bill?
One word: eeeewwww….
BUT, SERIOUSLY: In the wake of THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS huge success in 1991, the cinematic floodgates opened and sent forth a tidal wave of films similar in plot, if not quality. Out of all the serial killer thrillers that came out in the early-to-mid-90’s after THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS, only three are worth mentioning in the same breath as that aforementioned classic: JENNIFER EIGHT, SEVEN, and… COPYCAT.
According to criminal psychology, a serial killer’s pattern is as unique as his/her fingerprints. Meaning there are virtually never any deviations from that pattern. In COPYCAT, our heroines are faced with an adversary who not only changes his patterns at random, but he is also patterning his murders after infamous cases that have come before. This is an interesting angle for a serial killer thriller, and director Jon Amiel runs with it.
Aiding him immensely is his classy, talented cast. Sigourney Weaver is terrific as Helen Hudson. Showing signs of a Ripley-esque steely personality, but also tempering it with a deep vulnerability, Weaver turns Helen into a heroine who is both formidable and fallible. Clearly, this woman is exremely intelligent - otherwise she wouldn’t have attained that status that she has - but she is also not above being controlled by her emotions in certain situations. The result is a dichotomy that is fascinating to watch - and Weaver effortlessly sells the character.
Equally great is Holly Hunter, who subverts our notions of how a female detective looks like in movies. This is no cop who would look more at home on a runway or a photo shoot. Don’t get me wrong: Hunter is attractive, but in a more “real-world” way. Because of this authentic quality (and Hunter’s substantial acting talent), M.J. comes across as a vivid, distinct personality. Weaver and Hunter mesh well together, and make an intriguing duo. Physically, they are also interesting to look at together: Weaver, so tall and statuesque; Hunter, so petite and gamine.
Interesting note: in the original draft of COPYCAT’s screenplay, M.J. was actually a male character, and there was a romantic sub-plot between him and Helen. The decision was made to turn the role into a woman and make the relationship more of a “buddy” type. A smart choice, in my opinion.
The male supporting cast is just as riveting as the two female leads. Will Patton, William McNamara, and - especially - Harry Connick Jr. are all memorable as the men who revolve around M.J. and Helen’s orbits. Connick, in particular, is very good as the killer who has a love/hate relationship with Helen.
In the end, COPYCAT may not be THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS or even SEVEN, but it has its own merits and strengths to recommend it, not least of which are the two strong female characters at its center - who both have echoes of Jodie Foster’s Clarice Starling, one of the best movie heroines ever.
