Narc

When Ray Liotta passed away last week at the age of sixty-seven, virtually ever publication labeled him as "Goodfellas star." Some of them might have also mentioned his supporting role in Field of Dreams as Shoeless Joe Jackson, but all of them mentioned Goodfellas, the iconic gangster 1990 flick directed by Martin Scorsese and co-starring Robert De Niro and Joe Pesci that made him a star. It got to the point that it almost immediately prompted Nick Schrager to write that "Ray Liotta was so much more than Goodfellas." 

This is self-evident. The obituaries that did want to discuss more than Goodfellas or Field of Dreams likely mentioned motion pictures like Something Wild, Cop Land, Hannibal, Blow, Heartbreakers, Killing Them Softly, The Place Beyond the Pines, Marriage Story, and The Many Saints of Newark. Many of them mentioned Narc, as well, which is almost surprising given that it's probably the least-known of the films mentioned. Of his performance in Narc, Schrager wrote that Liotta's role was "a lead performance that remains one of his finest, full of ferocity, despair, and sorrow that so often defined his work." In Narc, Liotta was essentially as good as he had ever been in any of his more famous films. 

His Henry Oak, a lieutenant detective obsessed with finding the killers of his partner, is crass, impatient, impulsive, violent, and terrifying, making him come across as an even more maniacal Popeye Doyle, which is quite the accomplishment. Narc expectedly contains a lot of arguing, crying, swearing, bullets flying, and stuff like that, which means it might not be for everyone. But the most realistic scene, and the one that features both Liotta and his co-star Jason Patric's best acting in the movie, is the moment they sit and talk about their wives. There is an intensity in Narc, even from the get-go, that might feel nauseating to many. But the quiet moments between Patric and the late Liotta are superb.

The film opens with Patric's undercover narcotics officer named Nick Tellis desperately chasing a drug dealer in Detroit. Even though the criminal is shot and killed, the shootout goes awry. Despite this, Tellis is apparently good enough of a cop to be given a second chance, this time trying to solve a murder case which has run into a dead-end. The case involves another undercover cop who was murdered. The police chief (Chi McBride) promises Tellis that if he secures a conviction, he'll get him his precious desk job. (Tellis is married and has a child, and his wife, played by Krista Bridges, has had enough of worrying about him every night.) The police chief has also decided to pair Tellis with Lieutenant Oak (Ray Liotta), despite the chief's warning to Tellis that Oak is a little unhinged. 

All of the police work can feel a little berserk. The depiction of the police—whether they are to be seen as those who keep us safe or those who deliberately harm various communities—could certainly be in the eye of the bolder. Narc was released in 2002 (the same year as HBO's brilliant cop show The Wire), when public confidence in the police was at almost sixty percent; today, after years of high-profile and filmed murders by police officers, that number is under fifty percent. In 2002, one might have seen Liotta's fiendish cruelty as an accurate depiction of unchecked cops and their racist targeting of people of color. But others, particularly younger white male audience members, might have seen the stocky, bearded figure with piercing blue eyes and a menacing shotgun as a heroic figure of justice.  

The screenplay by Joe Carnahan, who also directed the film, would have likely been better suited for a series, just as The Wire was. And its engagement in twists and turns is a little beneath it. However, its realistic dialogue and attention to detail are admirable, as is its incorporation of a Roshomon-style retelling of events. But what you'll really come away from the film is the performances of Jason Patric and, of course, Ray Liotta, who left us too soon. Narc is a fine example of his immense talent.