KANSAS CITY

Kansas City (1996) is a modern noir film that delves into themes of crime, class, relationships, racism, and politics, all woven together by the soulful backdrop of live jazz music.  The soundtrack is mesmerizing, creating a seamless flow of music that starts from the opening scene and continues through to the closing credits.  While the film's execution may be a bit uneven at times, it leans a tad more toward success than failure.

One of the film’s standout elements is the music itself, which, in many ways, feels like a central character.  Much of the narrative unfolds at the Hey Hey Club, a jazz bar located in a predominantly Black neighborhood of 1930s Kansas City.  From the way the film is structured, it seems as though the jazz club never closes!  Even when the plot shifts away from the club to other events, the music swells underneath, keeping a constant pulse that connects everything to the story’s core. And the soundtrack is truly special.  It's a live jazz session, featuring modern jazz musicians portraying iconic Kansas City musicians such as Count Basie, Lester Young, Coleman Hawkins, Lou Williams, and Ben Webster.  For those who appreciate jazz, Kansas City is worth watching for this reason alone. This jazz session was filmed documentary style and was then spliced into the movie, giving the film its authentic, rich musical grounding.

The Hey Hey Club is owned by the menacing and morally ambiguous mobster Seldon Seen, a role brought to life with chilling precision by Harry Belafonte.  It’s a shame Belafonte was overlooked by the Academy for an acting nomination for this performance.  His portrayal is a masterclass in subtlety, a display of restraint and power that perfectly captures Seen’s quiet dominance.  Much like Miranda Priestly in The Devil Wears Prada, Seen commands authority without ever raising his voice.  His calm, controlled demeanor forces others to lean in and hang on his every word, as he exerts influence with minimal effort.  Belafonte’s performance anchors the film, creating a tension that lingers throughout.

Meanwhile, the plot outside the Hey Hey Club unfolds with a different kind of danger.  Blondie, a tough-talking moll, kidnaps Carolyn Stilton, the wife of the powerful politician Henry Stilton.  Blondie’s aim is to leverage Henry’s political clout to secure the release of her husband, Johnny, who is being held captive by Seldon Seen after a botched robbery of one of Seen’s wealthy gambling clients.  

Blondie and Carolyn reflect opposite characterizations of women devoted to their husbands.  Blondie (Jennifer Jason Leigh) seeks to be tough and in control.  Carolyn (Miranda Richardson) on the other hand is someone with access to political clout and influence, and while she’s a woman accustomed to being in control, she also avoids facing responsibility by indulging her addiction to opioids.  Richardson’s portrayal is rich and multifaceted.  Leigh on the other hand was a big disappointment for me. 

From the second Blondie arrives on screen, she immediately feels over the top.  Her performance is a caricature of a gangster tough-guy, delivered in a style reminiscent of Peter Brady (from The Brady Bunch) attempting to channel Humphrey Bogart with his iconic "Pork chops and apple sauce, see?" shtick.  Leigh chews every scene in a way that never quite feels natural, and her over-the-top presence is jarring, especially since no other character in the film speaks in this manner.  After watching the movie, I learned that director Robert Altman specifically instructed her to play the role this way, aiming to convey that Blondie is acting like her idol, Jean Harlow, trying to embody the tough, larger-than-life persona she's drawn to, even though it’s not who she truly is.  This explanation makes sense in hindsight, but while watching the film, it’s nearly impossible to pick up on that nuance, as Blondie never drops the act.  The only possible exception is a brief scene where she interacts with her coworkers at Western Union, but it’s far too short to provide enough context for viewers to understand that her tough exterior is a performance.

Two minor characters, Charlie Parker and Pearl Cummings, seem somewhat extraneous, and certain narrative threads feel a bit craggy.  Nevertheless, Kansas City is far from a bad film… it just doesn’t quite rise to greatness. It lacks the humor that often permeates Altman’s films and is missing the trademark zoom shots and overlapping dialogue that are characteristic of his style. That said, it features some excellent acting, an intriguing storyline, solid subplots, and an unexpected yet satisfying conclusion. I’m glad I watched it, and I would rate it a solid C+.