Early on in Edge of Darkness, as Mel Gibson’s Thomas Craven welcomes his semi-estranged and strangely ill adult daughter Emma back to her Boston childhood home, we are treated to a most unusual piece of set decoration and production design.  As Craven rather pointedly opens and closes the refrigerator, a small magnetic figurine of a pirate is prominently framed in the shot, dangling helplessly from the refrigerator door.

Random, or deliberate?  Meaningless or significant?

The heart of this Darkness is the surprisingly moving and convincing tale of a father’s relentless love for his daughter.  The tension is derived from the narrative invention that this particular father is a Boston police detective.  The wheels within plot wheels concern eco-terrorists, dirty-bomb terrorists, conspiratorial politics, and slimy corporate schemers.  Oh, and little dashes of radioactive isotopes thrown about for good measure.

This is a decent little Big Hollywood picture that may, like Michael Clayton, remind you of classic thrillers from the 1960s and early 1970s.  Despite what the trailers show you, it relies more on characterization and engaging dialogue than on flash, chase, and sizzle.  And probably no CGI whatsoever.

So what about that pirate?

In Gore Verbinski’s perplexing—and most would say overblown—trilogy-wrapping installment of the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise, the East India Trading Company’s Cutler Beckett is wont to remind folks: “It’s just good business.”  Whether an act of simple betrayal or hanging children from a gibbet—even, perhaps, potentially sinking a film franchise through hyper-indulgent production and narrative bloat—everything in the world of At World’s End is justified under the banner of corporate profit-taking.

This is also very much the case in the world of Darkness.  Whether it’s a paparazzo-like midnight press assignment to harass a grieving father, a police captain’s decision to pander to public pressure, a corporate executive’s order for his private security force to irradiate trespassers, a Senator’s blind-eye dismissal of a whistle-blower’s alert, or a lethal international corporate fixer’s decision not to snuff Craven, the vast majority of decision-making is not about what’s right.  It’s about what’s expedient.

The clinical demeanor of the aforementioned fixer, Jedburgh, might in fact remind you of a character that ought to have been featured in At World’s End.  Not only is he all business, all the time, like End’s Beckett he’s pretty loquacious on the subject of what’s good for business.  But when he realizes that he, too, is mortal, his priorities (and loyalties) shift. 

While this story’s heart is satisfied because Thomas Craven manages, after a fashion, to bring all the bad guys to justice by shedding light on a whole ton of darkness, the film’s meaning is really derived from Jedburgh’s change of heart.  He’s the only character who really learns anything: business as usual be damned.

So did William Monahan write that refrigerator magnet into the script?  Did veteran Bond film director Martin Campbell (and director of the BBC series on which the film was based) ask the set dresser to put it there?  Was the production designer a veteran of the Pirates films?  I don’t know.  But very little in this film feels random.  And it sure got me to thinking.

Edge of Darkness is rated R for “strong bloody violence and language.”  Language in abundance, yes; but not so much violence as you might expect, and never lingering in a prurient way, as in many Gibson films.  This is mature, responsible entertainment.

Courtesy of the film’s distributor, Greg screened a promotional copy of Edge of Darkness.