So, it’s the 20th anniversary of James Cameron’s
True Lies, which…I guess is a thing people are talking about. After revisiting
the film last week, I was planning on inducting it into the academy and by a
strike of fortune, True Lies happens to be turning 20 this week. The very fact
that people are recognizing its anniversary may question the necessity to call
it underrated. The film is certainly recalled fondly, it seems to be remembered
for some quality action and humorous asides – generally, a good time at the
movies. Which it certainly is! However, I believe True Lies is still important
to viewers because it’s an anomaly of successful genre hybridity that marks the
film fresh two decades later.
Cameron’s film followed up a string of Schwarzenegger-lead monolithic
action thrillers that was going to be hard to out shine. But wisely, True Lies circumvents
being in the shadows of films like Total Recall and the Terminator franchise by
striking a delicate balance of the comedy Arnold had been developing through
films like Twins, Kindergarten Cop, and Dave with action that’s indulgent,
self-aware, and enjoyable. Preceding True Lies for Arnold was the box office
disaster Last Action Hero, which was also an indulgent and (hyper) self-aware
action film. It was an admirable exercise, or rather experiment, in
meta-fiction that proved Schwarzenegger was willing to revise and tinker with
his image. Depending on who you are, Last Action Hero is relegated to relative
obscurity, despite its great Burger King marketing starring MTV Sports host Dan
Cortese, because it was either too much of a mess or went over the heads of
mass audiences.
But True Lies was messing with form in a much more subtle
way than Last Action Hero. For Schwarzenegger, the film was paramount to his career.
It acts as an amalgam of the best qualities of his career up to 1994. One of
the best strengths of True Lies is though it was interested in something
left-of-center, it wasn’t going to deter or upset audiences who went in looking
for traditional Arnold material. In Roger Ebert’s review, he relished the
over-the-top action sequences – most memorably, Arnold’s Harry chasing the
terrorist on horse through a hotel, up the elevator, and on the roof before
watching the terrorist motor across skyscrapers and into a pool. Ebert posited
that the plot was “little more than a clothesline upon which to hang such set
pieces.” In the 90s action film landscape cluttered with bravado in vain, it
would be easy to fold True Lies along in the mix. But doing so foregoes what allows
the film to endure as interesting 20 years later.
In her New York Times review upon True Lies’ release, Caryn
James focused on the film’s sexual politics, something Ebert (and many others)
ignored wholly. She focused heavily on Cameron’s attempts to (once again) place
a woman in the middle of the action. Among others, James makes the apt
observation that the film’s generic poster art contains one nugget of subtlety:
an engagement ring as the pin in the grenade that separates “True” and “Lies.”
This quietly sets up the film’s central conceit: “What if James Bond (or Ethan
Hunt) had to get home before 8pm because his wife was throwing him a birthday
party?” Throughout most of the film, there is a refreshing balance struck
between this strange and funny juxtaposition of secret agent operatives and
domesticity.
True Lies plays on the trope of the infallible agent that
always gets the girl. But now, he’s already gotten the girl. The opening scene,
where Harry flirts and tangos with a beautiful woman, takes on new meaning once
we realize he has to come home every night to his boring suburban family. His
wife Helen (played by Jamie Lee Curtis), who thinks Harry is a computer
salesman, is also bored to tears, “Whenever I can’t sleep, I ask him how his
day was and I’m out in six seconds flat,” she tells a coworker. We don’t care
about Harry because of his specialized talents and occupational hazards (both
of which are fun to watch); we care about his relationship with Helen and how
his occupation is rendered within that relationship. Our emotional response is
contingent upon the marital stakes that the film develops almost immediately. The
fantastical action is uniquely grounded in a relatable scenario of suburban
boredom that takes pressure off the viewers to have to muster up sympathy for
the stakes of national security. This time around, Cameron plays on our
expectations of boyish action films and makes the “large” national problems the
wallpaper upon which Harry’s marriage is foregrounded. In Caryn James’ best line,
she jests True Lies “might be a comic-action version of Scenes From A
Marriage.” She’s not far off. The messy details in Bergman’s stubbornly austere
take on partnership are more or less what can be seen silently between Harry
and Helen. The comparison between the two films is funny because of the tonal
differences, but it highlights the subversive flip of expectations from macro
problems (national security) to micro (relationships).
Most of the comedy derives from watching Harry have a harder
time trying to be an active husband and father than a secret-operative for the
government. Fortunately, we have naturally comedic talents in Jamie Lee Curtis
and Tom Arnold to handle the brunt of the funny lines. Cameron was smart enough
to strategically place Schwarzenegger in situations that yield comedy rather than place to much comedic responsibility on his comedy chops, much like Kindergarten Cop let most of the funny lines be delivered by children while Arnold reacted. Here, Arnold’s strength is how vulnerable and frustrated he makes Harry appear in the more humdrum
situations of the film. It’s not coincidental that his sidekick, Albert (Tom
Arnold), is more of an asset to Harry’s domestic situation than his
professional life. Albert buys his daughter’s presents, reminds Harry to put
his wedding band back on after a job. More importantly, Albert tries to
communicate to Harry that he needs to be a better husband, “You’re never
there,” Albert deadpans. Or, “women, you know…they like when you talk to ‘em,”
he stammers sarcastically. Harry is being taken to task for how uncomfortable
he feels with familial responsibilities.
At the time, Caryn James came just short of actually putting
the film in the feminist canon (which says more about women’s place in film
circa 1994 than it does her oversights). While I have some serious qualms about
the way Cameron handles the female characters, I do consider it to be a useful
(though perhaps lazy) comment on an emotionally void masculinity: that a man so
capable to avert the country’s terrorist attacks has trouble maintaining a
healthy and exciting relationship with the woman he loves. And what makes True
Lies still interesting is how this commentary is conveyed through genre
conventions in a way that both revels in and parodies action films. Most of this
is done in the film’s second act, which is just a delightful and complex
mastery of relationship examination through genre hybridity. It deals with the
film’s thesis in a way that feels concurrently like a diversion of the film’s
plot and its central focus. When Harry finds out that Helen might be cheating
on him, he reacts out of insecurity. This insecurity manifests itself as if Helen
was his most recently assigned mission, and Bill Paxton (stealing scenes as the
mustached sleaze-ball Simon) is the targeted terrorist. After doing some
unethical recon using his agency’ resources, Harry finds out Helen was getting
emotionally (and possibly physically) involved with a used car salesman who was
taking credit for Harry’s secret-op work in order to pose as a man of intrigue
and lure Helen into thinking she was necessary for his next mission. It becomes
clear that Helen is drawn to Simon because he offers an escape from her boring
home life. Driven by jealousy and territorial pride, Harry is unable to see
that Simon represents exactly what he can be to his wife if only he was honest
with her. This convoluted twist acts to juxtapose Harry with an equal.
Unfortunately for Helen, Harry doesn’t realize he’s as deceitful as Simon. And
unfortunately for us, the film doesn’t end up treating them equally.
Harry doesn’t have the capacity to civilly broach the
possible infidelity with Helen, so he continues to treat her as a subject in
his mission. After kidnapping her, Harry and Albert interrogate her from behind
a one-way mirror and through a voice distorter. But the interrogation is made up
of questions typical of a domestic dispute:
Are you having an affair?
Have you ever had an affair?
Do you love your husband?
This is the only way that Harry knows how to communicate
with her, the only way he knows how to process real information. Similarly in
the third act, Helen can only get Harry to talk honestly with her once the
terrorists inject him with truth serum. Both scenes are great examples of micro
problems taking precedent in the film over the macro.
Twenty years later, it seems a testament to the film’s genre
dexterity and innovation that many critics didn’t care for this second act. The Washington Post’s Desson Howe wrote that once Harry’s two worlds combined, “the
plot becomes increasingly ridiculous and overwrought,” while Rita Kempley (of
the same publication) called it a “strange and flabby digression.” Roger Ebert
simply called it “curious.” Save for a creepy scene where Helen is coerced into
stripping for a man she doesn’t know is Harry, which the filmmakers somehow endorses
as funny and sexy, I couldn’t be happier with the film’s faux-digression.
(And even that striptease scene is important as it emphasizes Harry’s inability
to approach sexuality in their relationship, it’s just so mishandled it can’t be
overlooked.) Not that it’s proof, or that intention is important, but it is
interesting to note that the title of the film would also inform that it cares
the most for this second act, which is about the couple discovering each
other’s deceptions. It is also worth nothing that the terrific SNES game based
on True Lies echoes the dominant critical discourse that saw the film’s marital
subject matter a diversion from its key material—action scenes.
Unfortunately, the film ends up losing sight of its commentary of Harry for the sake of finishing the film off with a seemingly endless entrĂ©e of action, most of which could be shortened in the interest of both entertainment value and cohesion. Instead, Harry’s character isn’t held accountable for what he’s done to the marriage. That is put aside while he goes on an individualistic tear to save his country, wife, and child, restoring his place as the patriarch. And the few merits left of Helen as a meaningful female character are demolished after she 1) blows Harry’s cover, 2) helps kill terrorists only by accidentally dropping an uzi down some stairs, 3) can only intentionally be of help when faced against another woman, and 4) has to be saved by Harry because she can’t find out how to stop a moving car. But the film’s cute denouement acknowledges that it didn’t forget its central premise as Harry has opened up his professional life to involve Helen. In the final scene, the couple tango while ignoring Albert’s plea to focus on the agency’s task: “National security! Life and death situation!” It’s a fitting end for a film that works best when it confronts such ostensibly large problems with apathy.
Seeing the film now, the influence of True Lies’ genre hybridity and general premise is easy to spot in a line of fairly contemporary pictures. 2005’s Mr. & Mrs. Smith used a very similar concept but with both spouses as agents. However, the film didn’t seem to know where to go or how to strike a good balance between genres. In 2010, Tom Cruise and Cameron Diaz tried to follow in True Lies’ steps (with a reverse scenario) in Knight and Day and ended up with a colossal box office bomb; it’s now relegated to playing backup to You, Me and Dupree on TBS. Also in 2010 was Date Night, which starred Steve Carell and Tina Fey in a film that had the same preface of a bored suburban couple that also indulge in more excitement and danger than they could have asked for. By far the most successful of the three films, Date Night is much more of a rigorous comedy than True Lies, starring leads that were enjoying the reign of TV sitcoms. 2012 saw another attempt to fuse comedy and relationships into the secret agent world with This Means War, which fell flat due to a lack of strong comedic talents. Regardless of the outcome, it’s nice to see the lineage of True Lies that serves as witness to the film’s unassuming originality. Somehow, it managed to be an allegory for bad communication, a parody of extra-relational fulfillment and a farce about jealousy all tied up in a package that only promised quality action.
