Broken Angel (1988) Review

William Shatner is almost the definition of a living legend. Ever since ‘Star Trek’ first burst onto screens in 1966, the man has been delighting audiences everywhere with his inimitable acting style, boundless self-confidence and effortless charisma. Whether commanding the USS Enterprise, battling gremlins in ‘The Twilight Zone’ or releasing surprisingly great albums, he's always done things his own way- for better and for worse.

The 1988 TV movie ‘Broken Angel’ follows Shatner’s Chuck Coburn, a man who appears to have it all: a comfortable home, a successful career and a loving family. When a gang-related shooting on the night of his daughter Jaime's prom leaves two teenagers dead and Jaime missing, his world is turned upside down. Teaming up with gang expert and reformer Shakti, Chuck descends into the mean streets of Los Angeles in search of his daughter, where every answer leads to more unsettling questions.

Directed by Richard T. Heffron, it’s a seriously ham-fisted effort, unintentionally hilarious and overly earnest in equal measure. Screenwriter Cynthia A. Cherba seems to have based all her gang-related knowledge on watching ‘The Warriors’ once, many years ago, with the sound turned off. Although assuredly well-intentioned, the narrative is so paint-by-numbers you might as well be watching Bob Ross. Think of a cliché, and it’s more than likely included.

The narrative is like ‘Taken,’ except the dad has no skills whatsoever, let alone a particular set. Cherba’s characters are stock, one-dimensional archetypes: the morally upright father, the doting mother, the idolised daughter, the overlooked younger son. A subplot about the wife’s infidelity goes nowhere, while the conservative mores the film espouses are old-fashioned. This isn’t a problem in itself, but the way in which the film details them is as tone-deaf as Helen Keller.

According to Cherba, poor kids join gangs because they have too little, while rich kids join gangs because they have too much. Either way, the cure is apparently the same: parents simply need to pay their children a little more attention and give them a bit more discipline. Problem solved. How deep. How perceptive. Insultingly simplistic, the films ideas are nearly laughable in their naiveté, while Chuck’s hunt for Jaime in the seedy underbelly of L.A. is like Paul Schrader’s ‘Hardcore’ watered down to the point of drowning.

In fact, that is what makes ‘Broken Angel’ watchable- its complete lack of self-awareness and its general clunkiness. Some of the dialogue must be heard to be believed. Take this nuanced exchange between Chuck and Shakti as they examine some graffiti: Shakti: “See that? Natas? That’s Satan spelled backwards,” Chuck: “You’re kidding!” Or this original conversation between Chuck and his son Drew: Chuck: “Drugs? What do you know about drugs? I know where you get those ideas, it’s that crazy music! What are you listening to?” Drew: “The News!”

So many moments feel like they’re from a parody, rather than a straight up drama. Kids conceal bags of drugs inside their jackets like watch salesmen from cartoons. Big, scary gang members have secret handshakes. Chuck and Drew cover their ears like the hear-no-evil-monkey when in a record store, to block out that corrupting, so-called popular music. When Drew tries on an earring, all Chuck is short of doing is collapsing on the ground and screaming “Oh, the humanity!”

The technical side of things is nothing to write home about either. Cinematographer William Cronjager seems completely uninterested in the material, shooting everything in the most basic manner possible. James Di Pasquale’s synth-heavy score makes Giorgio Moroder’s soundtracks sound positively subtle by comparison. Most of the budget seems to have gone on the many colourful sweaters Chuck sports throughout, while the rest of the costumes are laughable- the street toughs looking like outcasts from ‘Priscilla: Queen of the Desert.’

Some may claim that the film’s status as a TV movie gets it off the hook for being melodramatic and lacking in polish. That’s to ignore the many, many fantastic TV movies that came before ‘Broken Angel,’ however. The excellent ‘Promise,’ starring James Garner and James Woods, came out two years beforehand, while the same year saw the release of the affecting ‘David,’ starring John Glover and Bernadette Peters.

The film’s one saving grace is Shatner, who gives a very Shatnerian performance. His trademark pauses are plentiful, while he jumps from one emotion and vocal inflection to the next like a kangaroo on a hotplate. He was never a particularly subtle actor, and the more emotional scenes often push him well beyond the bounds of credibility. Yet, on occasion, he almost makes the quieter moments work, bringing something approaching pathos to Chuck’s anguish. He never quite gets there, but he comes surprisingly close.

His supporting cast are not in his league- whatever Shatner’s league may be, that is. Susan Blakely is saddled with a dog of a role in Catharine, Chuck’s wife. She’s given absolutely nothing to do but fret and weep- a waste of her talents. As Shakti, Roxann Dawson tries to elevate the material, fails, and ends up seeming a little stiff. Jason Horst does as much as anyone could with the underwritten role of Drew, while Erika Eleniak never quite convinces as Jaime, though isn’t on-screen enough for it to become much of a problem.

At the end of the day, Richard T. Heffron’s ‘Broken Angel’ may have been impactful if it was written by someone else, directed by someone else and released in the early 1960s. It wasn’t though. Clumsy, obvious and ultimately trite, it’s an unintentionally hilarious slice of 1980s moral panic, with a classic bit of Shat at its centre. In short, ‘Broken Angel’ boldly goes nowhere of note and does so at warp speed; but for some it may be so bad it’s brilliant.