'Reptile': A Tough-Guy Detective, An Outsider

The tough-guy detective genre once had its golden age. Yet today, despite continuous releases, most seem lackluster, bearing the weight of desires without nourishment. Tom (portrayed by Benicio Del Toro) is a pawn used in pitch-black darkness, struggling like a trapped animal, wandering through the endless human hell. The set-up of a cutthroat world, filled with villains rationalizes the misuse of violence yet always falls short in its portrayal of human depth. These political intrigues and sensationalized news in film and television perpetually churn out to satisfy audiences' insatiable appetites.

In "Reptile," Benicio Del Toro's portrayal encompasses the authenticity of the tough-guy detective in every aspect, robust and fleshed out, with decent supporting characters. Each tree in the forest of sin holds its form and logic, forming a complex ecological jungle. In the story's setting, the conservative political atmosphere prevails in Scarborough, Maine, where middle-aged property owners dominate the environmental hierarchy. The concealed undercurrents of crime bring forth rolling wealth sheltered by something resembling friendship. This system could have continued indefinitely if not for an outsider's intrusion.

The tough-guy detective genre, epitomized by Raymond Chandler's literary pinnacle, portrays protagonists who dive bare-chested into reality's brutality, distinct from the superior detectives of classical detective fiction who observe the world with a detached eye. Post-World War I, detective novels transitioned from the pastime of the aristocracy and wealthy to popular reading for the commoners. Even amidst this mix of people, the most exceptional individuals can suffer from poor fortune or tragic destinies, constantly feeling cornered and trapped in the harshest societal layers. Benicio Del Toro enters the scene with a hand injury, adding a veil of mystery to his character.

The detective's environment mirrors his predecessors, encapsulating the tough-guy detective under the shadows of accumulated societal problems. The detectives, alert like animals, tactically intelligent, and always acting preemptively, unavoidably carry a tinge of melancholy. Because no matter how intense the hero is, like the last colors of a sunset, they will eventually be swallowed by the night. They cannot remain immortal like Hercule Poirot or Jane Marple.

Scarborough's new world gradually unfolds before Tom and the audience. It represents a rational and realistic world, possessing the texture of the American Dream. People gather for meals, dance, and play cards—Tom and his wife swiftly integrate into the local police circle, earning their friendship and respect. At a restaurant, Tom cracks a joke about homosexuality, causing laughter. The patrons are visibly startled as the camera shifts to a smaller table nearby. This initial hint reminds the audience of the division between this intimate, loyal group and the outside world—a secluded group indifferent to external judgment, harboring hatred toward the outer world, yet with the potential for destructive behavior.

The warm ambiance fades, truth draws near, and each person's actual face beneath the mask is revealed—one of the horror genre's frequently used techniques to create a chilling effect. In detective works, however, such reveals must be handled cautiously; overdoing it can appear cheap. Discovering friends, neighbors, or colleagues as demons or aliens may bring a momentary shock. It's only when they remain who they are, their bond intact, but having to make life-or-death decisions due to conflicting ideologies, that it becomes genuinely impactful. The balance lies in how far the detective is willing to push, probing and questioning, until they cross someone else's line, triggering a chain reaction.

"Reptile" boasts a cleverly crafted script, especially in the first two-thirds. It demands the audience's keen attention, constructing an understanding of each character's personality based on their dialogue and actions, drawing from the viewer's life experience. Characters' destinies are dictated by their personalities; each character adheres to this rule, including Tom. Some characters subtly foreshadow their fates even when they seem insignificant. Sudden deaths and disappearances leave blanks, prompting audiences to make reasonable deductions.

The top-tier music direction by Grant Singer naturally leverages his strengths in this debut, crafting an atmosphere where nobody is trustworthy and capturing the eerie undertones. The camera roams the affluent American suburbs in grayscale. Detached homes built on one- or three-acre plots, surrounded by sparse woodlands and lawns, epitomize the materialization of the American Dream. Tom seems to be content with this setting. Secretly, he takes a picture of an intelligent faucet in a suspect's mansion for kitchen renovation ideas and test-drives a car during a case, saying, "Money from overtime." He guards what little good he has, like his wife, fiercely.

Tom embodies the quintessential American Dream, initially running smoothly alongside the gears around him. Scattered humorous moments must be clarified for the audience, making it hard to discern loyalty and enhance viewing pleasure. As the case gradually unfolds towards the final third, the movie falters. The director loses composure, resorting to more frequent tactics to confuse the audience, trying to delay the moment of truth. Tom, however, indifferent to these tactics, gradually disconnects from his environment, showing a different direction from the surrounding gears—initially stumbling unthinkingly but eventually gearing up for a counterstrike.

The delay in revealing the truth becomes meaningless because the endgame of the tough-guy detective genre isn't about telling the truth; it's about making a decisive stand against suffocating evil in the final confrontation. But does an actual resolution ever occur? The showdown is thrilling; each gunshot seals an individual's fate, confirming earlier prophecies. Moreover, it carries a hopeful undertone. Children remain oblivious to danger outside the adult world in its twilight, happily playing frisbee by the lake. Tom, saved by this sliver of hope, triumphs over his adversary, yet he is destined to relive the tragic events of Philadelphia.

Previously, due to his colleague's investigation, Tom faced bullying within the police force, labeled as the most shameful informer. Tom is cast out in an environment where loyalty supersedes the rule of law. When he transitions to a new work environment, he commits an even more unforgivable act. The stigma of being a "traitor" will forever follow him. Thus, Tom's character is molded with the final trait: an outsider unaccepted by the collective.

In the classical era of detectives, their economic and social standing was secure, allowing them to quickly navigate various groups and earn. Tough-guy detectives, however, are entirely the opposite. Even if they initially gain respect and smoothly integrate, they need help to maintain it. And it's nearly impossible for them to walk away unscathed from a case, always ending up alone. This is the tragic ending. The movie didn't film the fate of these tough guys.