He had no memory of it, “but somebody showed me a picture of me and him on the Internet,” Pacino laughs. “It was at some event or party, and we’re both looking into the camera, two guys who do not want to be photographed. Since he had mostly worked behind the scenes, I didn’t know who he was, and he looked like he didn’t know who I was.”
That was then, whenever that was. Now, spurring after-the-fact speculation, this forgotten encounter serves Pacino as a fitting first step into the character he captures for “Phil Spector.” (It premieres Sunday at 9 p.m. EDT.)
Written and directed by David Mamet, this penetrating film explores the preparation for Spector’s murder defense: As the story begins in 2007, he stands accused of having forced a pistol into the mouth of a woman _ his by-chance date for the night _ and pulling the trigger.
The difficulties of the case seem beyond the wherewithal of Spector’s original attorney (played by Jeffrey Tambor in a robust supporting performance), who has brought in hotshot lawyer Linda Kenney Baden (the splendid Helen Mirren). She takes over as lead attorney and, as the film unfolds, joins Spector in a verbal pas de deux that teems with Mamet’s shrewd dialogue:
“Why do you have so many guns?” she inquires on her first visit to his sprawling castle home near Los Angeles, where the shooting took place.
“I might need one,” he replies.
“Why would you need more than one?”
“How many shoes do you have?” he poses. “How many feet?”
Spector is gnomish, unstable and grandiose: “Extraordinary accomplishments,” he says, meaning his own, “transform the grateful into an audience _ and the envious into a mob.”
So he’s a problem for his lawyers. He says he didn’t kill the girl, but who’s going to believe him?
His lawyers know that, in the mind of the modern-day public, he is not the music wizard who created the girl-group sound in the early 1960s, co-wrote “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’” for the Righteous Brothers, and produced records for the Ramones and the Beatles. Instead, by 2007, he’s generally regarded as a creepy, homicidal has-been who hides out with his dozens of guns and his dozens of outlandish wigs _ a pint-sized wacko too big for his britches.
But “Phil Spector” makes no claim to uncovering the true facts of the crime, or of Spector’s guilt or innocence. Quite the opposite. The film opens with a flat-out disclaimer that it’s NOT “based on a true story,” that it’s a work of fiction “inspired by actual persons in a trial,” but unconcerned with depicting those actual persons or the case.
“That’s why it’s set in trial preparation,” says Pacino. “We weren’t there. No one knows what happened in the trial preparation.” Or no one, anyway, who will talk about it. Which makes the inside story ripe for invention by Mamet, the Pulitzer Prize-winning writer whose many works include the play “Speed-the-Plow” and screenplays for “The Verdict,” “The Untouchables” and “Wag the Dog.”