E-Mail This Article to a Friend KEANE

93 MINUTES | KENDALL SQUARE

In 1994, Lodge Kerrigan distinguished himself in his debut, Clean, Shaven for his skill in re-creating the world of mental illness. It didn’t make for pleasant viewing. In Keane, the title character is similarly afflicted, and whether the kidnapping of his six-year-old daughter caused his condition is unclear. Instead of explaining, Kerrigan begins in medias res with Keane futilely canvassing people at the bus station where the girl disappeared. He twitches, talks to himself, drinks, snorts coke, assaults one stranger, screws another, all in a hand-held close-up offering no escape from the confusion and distress exuding from every pore of Damian Lewis’s performance. Some relief comes when Lynn (Amy Ryan), a neighbor at the cheap hotel where he’s staying, asks him to mind her daughter, Kira. Poor judgment, perhaps, but it’s his chance at redemption or deeper damnation. Kerrigan recognizes that madness has its own logic, one that’s no more or less effective than sanity against guilt, grief, and desperation.