The Poison Rose is a 2019 drama about an ex-football star turned PI, who has a soft spot for a lady in distress.
You get the impression from the start of director George Gallo‘s latest thriller The Poison Rose that this film knows what it wants to be, adopting a number of mixed movie clichés in establishing its look and feel. Part 70s police drama, part neo-noir, part well, I’m not sure, but whatever, it’s a curious conundrum of odd storytelling, even odder performances, and languid direction that doesn’t necessarily make it fail, but it doesn’t quite come together as it should either, leaving this entertaining to a fault but not all that memorable.
We’re in the 1970s and former NFL star Carson Philips (John Travolta) is now a graying private detective still remembered for his on-field exploits but more for his disgraced exit. One day, a beautiful woman (his well-stated weakness) strolls into his office asking him to find someone, forcing him to head back to his hometown after twenty years. Once there, he confronts his old haunts while falling into the investigation of the mysterious murder of the high school quarterback (Devin Ellery). This gets him entangled with an old flame named Jane (Famke Janssen), who pleads for his help and local bigwig and on-again off-again friend “Doc” (Morgan Freeman), not to mention keeping at bay a thug who feels Carson betrayed him.
As with any in the genre, the plot is convoluted and messy, corners that once looked empty having meaning later, and surprisingly there’s just enough going on in this murky soup to keep you guessing (sort of). Where it does best is with the cast, Travolta doing good work as the grizzled former athlete and Famke doing what she can with the wealthy woman in distress. There’s also Brendan Fraser as a paunchy, balding, sweaty doctor, who earns the most WTF?-is-he-doing-in-the-movie record scratch, doing so with great tenacity. I’m telling you, this is some good work, and he’s all the reasons why to slip this into your queue. (Look also for Robert Patrick and a nearly unrecognizable Peter Stormare as well, both doing Texas with big broad strokes).
Either way, where the film falls through the cracks is in the rest, the film actually credited with three directors, the attempt to recall drive-in 70s theater not really as weighty as it feels it could be. The tacked on narration by Travolta is lifeless and ultimately needless, not to mention the paint-by-numbers story of a ‘stranger’ in town asking too many questions, making all the locals uncomfortable. It’s as old as the movies themselves yet Gallo doesn’t bring anything to the table all that innovative, with melodramatic conversation puffed up by staged atmosphere rarely giving it any significance.
There’s a lot that holds big potential in The Poison Rose, a movie you really want to like. The actors deliver and deliver big but are stuck in a film that has nearly no momentum and left to wander about into places that slow it to a crawl. It’s frustrating, especially when little peaks tease at what it might have been. Worth a look for the talent in front of the camera, this will satisfy for some weekend filler.