Chameleon Street (1989, Wendell B. Harris, Jr.) (Patreon)

55/100

Really wish I’d seen this at the time—partly because Catch Me if You Can didn’t yet exist as unavoidable comparison, but mostly because Chameleon Street is the kind of hugely flawed but wildly promising debut that inspires tremendous excitement about what its director will do next. And of course in this case we already know the demoralizing answer: nothing. Absolutely inconceivable to me that Harris’ dryly comic performance here didn’t at the very least launch a substantial acting career—he’s appeared in only two films since, and while I suppose that may have been his own decision, a tiny role (as an FBI agent) in Out of Sight can't help but suggest one proto-Sundance prizewinner helping out another. And his chops as a filmmaker are no less obvious, even if he’s mostly using the real-life case of William Douglas Street*, Jr. as a means to tackle a whole bunch of disparate intriguing ideas that never really cohere.

To get the least successful aspect out of the way: Street’s chameleonic exploits, though ostensibly based upon actual scams, frequently seem literally incredible. One of them culminates in Street openly confessing to extortion during a TV appearance, with no apparent legal ramifications whatsoever. And it’s one thing for DiCaprio's Frank Abagnale to fake being a doctor in a supervisory capacity, talking his way out of a tight spot by asking underlings whether they concur in a diagnosis and then making a speedy exit; it’s quite another for a cornered con artist to somehow successfully perform a hysterectomy, absent any experience or even medical knowledge whatsoever. Yeah, this is a satirical fantasia of sorts, not a naturalistic drama, but most of the impersonation scenes fall into an unproductive middle ground, neither remotely believable nor outrageously funny. And it’s not clear to me how they dovetail with the racism that Street occasionally encounters, which tends to be of the belligerent-barroom-asshole variety rather than of the systemic-denial-of-worth variety. I think we’re meant to understand Street as a man assuming respectable professions to which he’s been denied legitimate access, but the film doesn’t actually depict any barriers for him to circumvent. “Does it really need to?” one could reasonably ask, but it’s a matter of each part contributing to the whole. Street responding to the N word with a lengthy, superciliously vicious grammatical critique does not. 

Then again, it’s hilarious and satisfying and memorable. So is Street attempting to pass himself off as a French exchange student, calling himself Pépé le Mofo (a reference happily left unexplained). So is the moment when Street, after dropping off the blackmail letter**, runs back to the car, yelling “Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go!” at the driver…and then, seconds later, when the car won’t immediately start, sarcastically mutters “No, let’s just stay here.” So is a fair amount of the voiceover narration. (“Darren thinks he’s a comedian. He’s about as funny as the last scream for help at Armageddon.”) Street faking epilepsy to avoid being raped in prison doesn’t exactly qualify as “hilarious,” given the distressing context, but it’s a terrific showcase for both the character’s ingenuity and the actor’s range. All in all, there’s plenty to enjoy and admire. I just wish that the roads between cherishable bits weren’t quite so bumpy, that they all clearly led to the same destination. Particularly odd is the way that supporting characters, like Street’s brother, get introduced at length only to disappear forever, having served no discernible function. Chameleon Street feels very much like a “notebook debut,” which is my term for dumping all of your long-accumulated ideas into film #1, lest you never make another.

If that’s the case, Harris’ instincts were sound. It’s hard to watch this film and not feel cheated, as if, say, Wes Anderson’s career had just ended with Bottle Rocket; there’s enough idiosyncratic wit and visual imagination to indicate a potentially major new voice who’s as yet only cleared his throat. (There’s also, it should be noted, some typically amateurish hiccups, including one reverse angle in which the lighting changes so starkly that I thought we’d jumped to a different location. Though that’s counterbalanced by the superb image that places Street in utter darkness at a barroom table, surrounded by three friends who are each illuminated normally, finally leaning into his own “misplaced” source only at a crucial moment.) Chameleon Street is so all over the place that it’s hard to imagine with any confidence what Harris’ subsequent efforts might have been like, but “distinctive” is probably a safe bet, and that’s a quality that should always be actively encouraged. We failed this guy.

* Went in knowing nothing about the narrative and was surprised/amused to discover that Chameleon Street is an epunymous title à la Good Will Hunting and Grosse Pointe Blank. Probably the best of those I’ve come across.

** This whole episode confused me mightily. We do see a photo of Willie Horton the apparently well-known baseball player, but I'm old enough to know that name as the subject of a notoriously racist ’88 Bush campaign ad (involving a different Willie Horton), and was conscious of Chameleon Street presumably having been shot right around that time. So I assumed a nonexistent connection.