David Mamet is known for his plays, like his masterwork, the Pulitzer Prize-winning “Glengarry Glen Ross” (1984); the incisive Hollywood satire “Speed-the-Plow” (1988); and the brutal, profane “American Buffalo.” He has also written many screenplays, some as good as “The Verdict,” and directed innumerable films, including “House of Games” (1987), “Homicide” (1991), and “The Spanish Prisoner” (1997). “Henry Johnson” is the first film he has directed in 18 years. The film is essentially filmed theater (a film version of Mamet’s own play) with three talk-filled, long-take, two-character scenes placed in different settings and linked together by narrative ellipses.
Language has always been the key to Mamet’s work, and “Henry Johnson” is no exception. In the first sequence, a senior company officer aggressively talks to his subordinate, Henry Johnson (Evan Jonigkeit), the film’s eponymous character, subtly interrogating him at the same time. He wants to know about Henry’s friendship with an acquaintance who was convicted for manslaughter for killing the unborn child of a woman he impregnates. The talk is conversational in tone, though much more of a sharp and psychologically knowing monologue than dialogue.
The horrific act plays into Mamet’s extremely conservative politics. But in this film, he is not making a political point. The act here exemplifies how passive Henry is in the face of the sociopathic friend’s sexual force, easy power, and gift for manipulation. Henry sees himself as inept and lonely, so drawn to this casual college connection that he helps get him parole by stealing the firm’s money to pay for an expensive lawyer.
In the next sequence, Henry has been arrested for his criminal act and is in prison wearing a yellow jumpsuit. We observe him talking to his cellmate, Gene (a charismatic, ranting Shia LaBeouf), who convincingly embodies the sociopathic philosopher convict. In relation to Gene, Henry feels like a victim taken advantage of by the smartest and most predatory of street criminals. The contrast is too great, and we lose interest in the pallid Henry’s fate. The film allows Gene to wax eloquent about the world as a jungle where people use and like to exercise power over each other. And no fairytales exist, just savages and monsters.
Gene may be a powerful speaker, but as Mamet’s mouthpiece, he overwhelms Henry and the film. I am not sure to what end all his eloquence is aimed. It is still watchable for its theatrical display and eloquent incantation, but not particularly meaningful.
The last act or sequence loses its way altogether. Henry has been involved in a prison break and holds a hostage—a guard librarian—who offers a long monologue that feels adrift and inchoate. Henry here remains a dupe and victim to the end. Mamet’s ambition and talent are intact, but the film feels verbose and self-indulgent—far from his best work.
