No review that starts off with a paragraph like that can be favorable, and if you worship Mel Gibson like a god, I advise you to stop reading now, because I'm only going to get more brutal. Conspiracy Theory fails on every level: the screenplay is a collection of cliches and formulas, the directing is lacking in originality, and the acting is poor. On the other hand, it is never bad enough to become a cult classic: instead, it just remains horribly boring.
The film is the story of wacko taxi driver Jerry Fletcher (Gibson), who researches, writes, and publishes a newsletter dealing with his conspiracy theories. He lives on the lookout from shadowy government agents ("them") in a heavily-secured apartment filled with news clippings and files he's put together on his theories. Such is his paranoia that he locks his refrigerator as well as its contents (in individual locking canisters).
He is obsessed with Alice (Julia Roberts) an employee of the Justice department he once saved from mugging. He visits her place of work without appointment, he spies on her apartment: in a word, he stalks her, though she tolerates him. It seems, however, that he struck a nerve somewhere, because he is kidnapped by "them," who put him through the Clockwork Orange treatment.
Up until this point, the film looked like it could be good: perhaps a comedic version of Taxi Driver, or a goofy Americanized film treatment of Umberto Eco's Foucault's Pendulum. The film's problems are great, however. Gibson, for instance, is not a convincingly verbal actor. Imagine a Kevin Spacey, a Steve Buscemi or a John Malkovich as Jerry, and you have a film that is far more likely to work. None of these men, however (unfortunately) is a marquee name, so instead, we have Gibson rattling on in that monotonous voice of his. Also, the love story is less than convincing. It is nothing more than an obligatory, tacked-on "love interest." Fletcher's interrogation and hallucinations are highly derivative of other, superior movies, while the chief villain, Dr. Jonas (Patrick Stewart) is far less frightening than the character he seems to be modeled after, Dr. Szell from Marathon Man (played by Sir Laurence Olivier).
There are some fairly exciting chase scenes and some inventive escapes, but that hardly makes up for complete lack of credible characterization or plot. There is one spectacular scene where black helicopters drop government agents into the middle of New York: a striking image. Too bad it had to appear in such a poor movie.
The best elements of the film are the cinematography by John Schwartzman (a vast improvement over his work in The Rock) and the score by Carter Burwell. While some composers might have written somber "conspiracy" music, Burwell jazzed it up. Apart from that, there is little to praise here. Interesting, isn't it, how Patrick Stewart's choice of non-Star Trek film roles should be so poor?
There was one point where the plot threatened to come to life (a major twist was revealed), though it died quickly afterward. A pity that the oh-so-conventional ending completely goes against the nature of the premise. By turning the hero into the scion of innocence and the villain as the nothing but the darkest scoundrel, screenwriter and director missed out on the chance at making this film slightly interesting. As it is, this one goes down with Batman and Robin as the worst of the summer.
One star
Copyright 1997 by Dale G. Abersold
