Christopher Nolan is one of the most widely-acclaimed and respected directors working today and is virtually the only director now who will be given top-dollar studio funding for a completely original story idea. This seems to be because Nolan has proven time and again that regardless of the story type he is working with, he has a distinctive style that captures audiences’ imaginations by his ability to create top-flight action sequences and summer blockbuster fare that both entertains and fascinates, working with mind-bending ideas about space, time, and dreams that leaves viewers thinking about the film long after it has ended. This is true from his early lower-budget work in Memento and Insomnia to his later high-octane offerings like Inception and Tenet. No matter the type of film he makes, audiences will come to see it because they know they are in for an engrossing story.
However, despite the well-earned plaudits, Nolan’s films have often been criticized for their weaknesses as much as they are praised for their strengths. While the director has an eye for breathtaking visuals and sequences, his movies are often taken to task for their lack of character development, failing to give more than passing notice to fleshing out the protagonists and focusing on the plot more than the characters. It is seen as a consistent misstep present in many of his films (though not in all of them). What is frequently missed in these reviews of Nolan’s characters, however, is his most overlooked movie and his greatest accomplishment in character drama: Insomnia.
Insomnia is a remake of a 1997 Norwegian movie of the same name and follows Will Dormer (Al Pacino), a revered L.A. cop on assignment in Alaska investigating the murder of a high school girl in a small town. As the story unfolds, the layers around Dormer’s character slowly begin to unfold, and what started as a confident and quick investigation turns into a story of deeper and deeper soul-searching behind the rapidly-deteriorating shell of Dormer’s outward persona.
One of the greatest strengths of the movie is in its restraint. There are no car chases or massive setpiece sequences, but rather a slow progression and unraveling of the case in tandem with the reveal of the dark secrets of Dormer’s past. What the audience first sees as a tough, seasoned, and hard-bitten by-the-book cop gradually gives way to a stronger foreboding that something terrible is hidden in his past.
This particular unknown past concerning “the Dobbs case” ends up enhancing the drama of the movie, as Dormer’s partner confesses that he is about to cut a deal with an internal investigation and give information to the investigator. It is only when Dormer later accidentally shoots and kills his partner in a chase in the fog, however, that he begins to question his own intentions. Though he insists it was an accident, his dying partner is convinced that Dormer intended to kill him to tie up a loose end, and his final words haunt Dormer throughout the movie until he begins to wonder himself if he actually meant to do it.
As his present is unraveling and the past is catching up to him, Dormer finds himself unable to sleep, in part due to Alaska’s perpetual daylight and in part because of his unquiet conscience; his exhaustion, and the tragedy of the story, grow proportionally as the film progresses. In order to keep all of his previous cases from unraveling and criminals from going free, he pins the murder of his partner on the suspect under investigation, and the movie subtly shows just how familiar Dormer is with illegally sneaking around behind the backs of the investigation. This, it turns out, is his dirty secret. He planted evidence in a previous case in order to catch a man who was guilty as sin but didn’t leave enough evidence to make a conviction.
The fascinating character drama drives the entire plot, due not only to Pacino’s role as Dormer but to Robin Williams’ shockingly sinister turn as Walter Finch, the murderer in Dormer’s investigation. As the only one to witness Dormer shoot his partner, Finch has an edge that he uses as leverage on Dormer to work in tandem with him to subvert the investigation. As such, the film plays with extremely rare territory: it produces a character drama in which the hero and the villain work together toward a common goal, and consequently heightens the complexity of the character by suggesting just how easily Dormer can slide into the role of the villain himself.
The other side of Dormer’s character is also developing in response to a young officer who idolizes his work and wants to be just like him: Hilary Swank’s Ellie Burr. He encourages her development and assistance in the case but finds himself torn between these two extremes: Burr, who is the type of officer he once was, and Finch, who embodies the direction in which he is going. Dormer himself cannot decide which one of the two he is, ultimately, as with Finch he attempts to subvert the investigation and with Burr he actually points her in the right direction, as if he wants to get caught for what he’s done. The one scene in the movie in which these three characters share a conversation is a masterful example of this dynamic. Dormer vacillates between the two extremes, at one point helping Finch and at another being disgusted with him and trying to convict him. Finch and Burr play as opposing foils to his character, and part of the great tension of the film exhibited in Dormer’s own drama is his profound uncertainty as to which one of the two he ultimately is.
The final element that creates an excellent character drama is the establishment of the stark moral stakes by the end of the film. At the climax, Dormer is faced with two options: let Finch go free and everything stands, all the criminals he caught stay in jail, or catch Finch, and everything falls apart — Dormer himself will be incriminated and his one instance of evidence-planting will be used to unravel all of his previous cases. Burr herself is also drawn into this quandary, as she must decide whether to pursue the investigation and incriminate Dormer or let him go and forget about her moral responsibility. The final scene between Burr and Dormer crystallizes this dilemma — in the last moment, Burr prepares to throw away the only piece of evidence tying Dormer to the crime, and Dormer stops her from doing it, telling her, “Don’t lose your way.”
Insomnia is a restrained movie, taking place in a very narrow locale without any fancy visual pyrotechnics. For all of that, and perhaps because of it, it is an excellent movie whose tension and plot is almost exclusively drawn from the tightening screws of moral quandaries in character drama. While some of Nolan’s films may struggle in the realm of compelling character development, Insomnia is the most delicate, nuanced, and profound character directing seen in any of his movies.
