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Opening with a bravura credit sequence where the newspaper clippings of journalist Gray Baker (Andy Garcia) inform us of the murder of Margaret Strauss. Back in the 1940s after the war, her famous composer husband, Roman Strauss, was convicted and executed for her slaying, thanks in part to Baker’s damning writings. Flash forward some 40 years to an amnesiac (Emma Thompson) whose nightmares are haunted by the tale of the Strauss’. The Catholic boys home that she hass stumbled upon hires former resident, now Private Investigator, Mike Church (Branagh) to help find her place in the world. Church is a bit of a cad who doesn’t blink twice about bedding down his friend’s relatives for one night stands, but after only one look at the voiceless, nameless woman he comes to know as Grace, he is instantly smitten. Or does he have another agenda in mind?

After trips to county hospital and newspaper ads prove futile, Madson (Derek Jacobi), an antiques dealer who dabbles in hypnotism comes calling and offers his assistance. During her initial regression, Grace starts what may very well be a past-life experience when she was Margaret Strauss, recounting the courtship that led up to her marriage to Roman and the gossip that threatened to tear them apart. Further sessions begin to piece together the missing elements of Grace’s life as the past and the present begin to merge into a dangerous karmic cocktail that will test the trust of all the parties who have a connection to those tragic events.

Mike and Grace’s correlation to the Strauss’s history is directly associated to the audience’s perception that Roman and Margaret are also played by Branagh and Thompson. Director Branagh and cinematographer Matthew F. Leonetti use black-and-white to differentiate the past from the contemporary, a clever visual tactic to be sure, but also one that recalls the great gothic mysteries of the 40s such as Rebecca and Laura and expresses the sorrowful loss of time and true love.

Branagh the actor has a lot of fun with both roles, delving into his Shakespearean training for the brash and conflicted German and keeping a firm wink in his eye for the selfish, romantically-challenged L.A. detective. Branagh plays his scenes of twisty discovery as a perfect mirror for the viewer’s own faces while making the same findings. Both him and Thompson (married at the time) find the right chemistry for both relationships while Jacobi puts in the right amount of playful mischief as the hypnotist who doesn’t mind using his clients to find new items for his store. Robin Williams also has a great uncredited cameo as a disgraced psychiatrist who may know more than his share on the topic of past lives.

Visual pleasures and first-rate acting never to go unnoticed, but Dead Again succeeds in every respect thanks to Scott Frank’s masterful screenplay. Frank, who has gone on to pen such respected titles like Out of Sight and Steven Spielberg’s Minority Report, knows the power of the little details. Grand flashes can serve as a wonderful outline to any narrative, but it’s the little things that transform a good idea into an ingenious piece of storytelling. The small particulars buried within Dead Again are the kind that only stand out upon a second viewing as little clues to the puzzle that will have you smacking your head in disbelief that you missed it the first go around.

Running jokes about smoking and Branagh’s visual flair for the constant reminders about the murder weapon (scissors) both payoff in enormously satisfying fashion. Frank continues to raise new questions seemingly every minute and finds a way to answer them all without playing tricks on the audience. What is the truth behind the death of Roman’s first wife? If Grace was Margaret, is the past destined to repeat itself? Is there even a mystery to be solved or is tragedy just in the cards?

Branagh was the new wunderkind in Hollywood after the critical acclaim of his debut production, Henry V, in 1989 had him labeled as the next Laurence Olivier. Dead Again proved Branagh was the real deal, displaying a true aptitude for the theatrics of cinema that would have made Hitchcock proud. Without taking us for dyslexic puppets, Branagh is able to realize Frank’s screenplay and build suspense sans showing us the blueprints for why we should be tense. The blowing away of hair and the seemingly inconsequential piano player downstairs all furnish us with sequences that aren’t foreshadowed to be suspenseful. Up-and-coming filmmakers should study how the use of a name can produce a bigger shock than the thousands of false-alarm cat sightings and musical stingers used to jolt viewers.

Great suspensers build their foundation on a cavalcade of backstory and slow-evolving first and second acts, until all the information comes crashing into itself only to be reexamined through plot twist after U-turn. Dead Again does just this, steering you headfirst into a final half hour whose destination keeps changing until the final fork in the road is plunked directly through your car horn and you’re propelled into a spinout. During my days as a video store employee, whenever someone would ask me for a great mystery or a great thriller, Dead Again was at the top of my list. If you haven’t seen it yet, put it at the top of yours.

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originally posted: 06/19/02 09:56:03
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