It may be that Malkovich practiced up for his filmmaking debut by playing directors in three movies: Michelangelo Antonioni's Beyond the Clouds, Manoel De Oliveira's I'm Going Home, and the Nosferatu-inspired Shadow of the Vampire, in which he played F.W. Murnau. If he was in auteur training, it served him well, in that the accomplished actor's directorial debut, The Dancer Upstairs, has garnered much critical praise, most deservedly for establishing mood and tone. But the film is not all it could be.

Based on a book by Nicholas Shakespeare, the movie follows the actions and interior states of detective Augustin Rejas (Javier Bardem), as he struggles to identify and capture a guerilla leader who is trying to foment revolution by killing animals, children, and public officials in the capital of an unnamed Latin American country.

Where the film falters is in its languid, dreamy pace. Effective as this is in setting a contemplative mood—which matches Rejas' conflicted feelings about his marriage, his government, and the investigation—it does not serve to make the story compelling or to move it forward. Tagged a thriller, the movie is often disturbing and gory, but it is never taut or suspenseful. Malkovich's remarks on the commentary track hint at his challenges as a director, especially a comment that the film could have been 2-1/2 hours long. It's not too long as it is, but it contains too many long scenes, and these drag the whole film out of the thriller category.

Rejas' tortured flirting with his daughter's ballet teacher Yolanda (Laura Morante) forms an important subplot, but fails to excite much emotion or empathy. Viewers have too much time to feel sorry for Rejas' wife, who is a tad shallow—but since when is that justification for cheating?

None of this is the fault of Bardem, who turns in a nuanced performance as the personally and professionally conflicted Rejas.

Although the film's languid pace does not always work, one of its most effective and affecting sequences is also one of the dreamiest: At the end, a melancholy Nina Simone recording forms the accompaniment to Rejas' daughter's performance in a dance recital. This scene makes a thoughtful matching bookend to the film's first, in which the future terrorist and his friends listen to an earlier part of the recording as they enter the country illegally and prepare to shed innocent blood.

Besides success in placing his stamp on the film, and achieving a consistent tone and mood, Malkovich is also proficient with allusion and reference; for example, use of a videotape of Constantin Costa-Gavras' State of Siege.

DVDetails
Those wanting to know more about the inspiration for this film and the book upon which it was based will find many of their questions answered with the extras on the disk. In "Revealing The Dancer Upstairs," author Nicholas Shakespeare describes how he wrote the book to remove a "pebble from his shoe." Shakespeare lived in Peru during the reign of terror inflicted by the Shining Path, upon which movement the story is loosely based, and went into remote areas himself, looking for its elusive leader—actions he says he now realizes were dangerous.

A short feature by the Sundance Channel is mostly about Malkovich, and is entertaining but not as informative as the other material.

The commentary track consists of Malkovich's and Bardem's thoughts and revelations. Here is more information on the history behind the story, as well as interesting miscellany about filmmaking decisions, the other actors, and even, early on, a directorial gaffe. Bardem and Malkovich, like most commenting filmmakers, praise the cast—it's amazing to learn a couple of bit players aren't actors at all—and discuss locations, chronology of shooting, and other details. Such information usually adds to a viewer's appreciation for a film, but can also raise more questions, such as: Why were so many far-apart locations necessary?

The number and kind of extra features are perfectly appropriate to this movie; there should be no need for a "special edition."