Dave ponders the critical pile-on that Jim Belushi endured, and extols the virtues of the sturdy neo-noir that represented the scorn’s peak.

“If you go to James Belushi movies, there are two things you should know,” wrote Desson Howe in the Washington Post, prior to the release of TRACES OF RED.

“Firstly, the Washington metropolitan area is full of highly qualified, caring people with medical degrees who will listen to you.”

“And second, it was John Belushi who made those earlier, funny movies.” [1]

The very same day, The Ottawa Citizen’s Steven Mazey let rip with a similar rant about the Wheaton-born actor:

“Someday soon, if we are very lucky, people will come to their senses and stop allowing James Belushi to appear in movies. For reasons known only to themselves, film producers keep trying to turn this charmless, severely limited actor into a star.” [2]

Howe and Mazey are just a sample section of a whole host critics who, at the time, had a real issue with Belushi’s popularity. A genuinely bewildering vendetta, confirmed as such when you consider the top-tier filmmakers who happily cast him: Michael Mann in Thief (1981), Oliver Stone in Salvador (1986), and, later, Woody Allen in Wonder Wheel (2017) and David Lynch in Twin Peaks (2017).

At the tail-end of the ‘80s, Belushi was off a run of moderate successes at the box office. Nothing tanked, but Homer and Eddie (1989), Taking Care of Business (1990), and Curly Sue (1991) could have all done a little better. Thus, a switch to a straight role in the distinctly neo-noir Traces of Red was the perfect opportunity to stick the knife in, critically speaking. The pundits got their wish: the film flopped and, save for a brief flirtation with Gang Related (1997), Belushi – in a lead role – would never see the inside of a multiplex again.

Beginning life under the title ‘Beyond Suspicion’, Traces of Red stemmed from the pen of Jim Piddock. An actor, writer, and producer whose career began on the London stage, Piddock switched to Broadway in the early ‘80s before heading west, chalking up a few features, and famously uttering the line “But… you’re black?” to Danny Glover in Lethal Weapon 2 (1989).

Getting his inspiration from a newspaper article, Piddock’s main task once the script had been completed was to change the location from Beverly Hills to Palm Beach, Florida. It’s a place that suits the finished movie well, coming across as a sunshine state fusion that lies somewhere between the grace of Palmetto (1998) and the whirlwind of Wild Things (1998).

Belushi plays Jack Dobson, a homicide detective called to the murder of a young waitress. Horrified to discover that it’s the same woman he took home only a few nights earlier, he drops head first into an investigation ready to spiral out of control and potentially derail his career.

Featuring a cast of characters that are all plausible suspects, the sensory takeaway from Traces of Red is one of captivation and enjoyment. Piddock has, admittedly, snuck into the noir hall of fame and pilfered every trope in existence, before putting on a fake moustache, sneaking past the guard, and going back in for three more double crosses – but I’m no snob towards a little imitation. Besides, he’s crafted a compelling story that manages to swing between Belushi’s gruff wit and harsh themes of infidelity and child abuse.

“I didn’t come here to seduce you. I wanted to corrupt you,” is a defining piece of dialogue in the picture, with the gradual erosion of trust between each principal character a macabre delight to witness. It is excessively convoluted, but even then I can’t knock the film’s ambition.

Graeme Revell’s sultry score is on point, the in-demand Kiwi composer delivering it the same year as both Body of Evidence (1992) and The Hand that Rocks the Cradle (1992). Props also to Lorraine Bracco for a fine femme fatale performance as Ellen Schofield, which the lame-ass Golden Raspberry panel singled out to be worthy of nomination.

Opening on just shy of four-hundred screens on 13^th November 1992, Traces of Red lasted a fortnight in the cinema, raking in a little over $3million. It did, though, experience tremendous success on home video, with industry bible Video Store Magazine reporting that it made 224.8% more revenue on tape than it did in theaters [3]. Sadly, since these heady rental days it’s barely been seen (well, aside from a couple of old, first gen DVDs and the odd airing on late night cable).

Ripe for rediscovery – and ripe for revaluating alongside the other dramatic roles of the terminally underappreciated Belushi.

USA ● 1992 ● Thriller ● 95mins

Jim Belushi, Lorraine Bracco, Tony Goldwyn, William Russ, Faye Grant ● Dir. Andy Wolk ● Wri. Jim Piddock

[1] Traces of Red by Desson Howe, The Washington Post, 13^th November 1992.
[2] Belushi Bland as Usual in Ridiculous Traces of Red by Steven Mazey, The Ottawa Citizen, 13^th November 1992.
[3] Hallmark Launches Its Own Home Video Label: Forms Hallmark Home Entertainment Division with Steven Beeks as President by George T. Chronis and Lisa Robinson, Video Store Magazine, 1st January 1995.