Almost all of David Thomson's writing is conceptual in one way or another, mixing suspected fact with outright fiction - his "Biographical Dictionary of Film" critiques the lives of motion picture performers as if their very existence was an artistic performance, and each of their film was a subplot along the way; "The Whole Equation" spins a history of Hollywood using, for primary sources, Fitzgerald's book "The Last Tycoon" and Robert Towne's script for Chinatown (both, Thomson argues, unfinished works - Fitzgerald died before he could complete his final novel, and Towne was never given the ability to write the many sequels he had planned for Jake Gittes and Los Angeles); his latest book, "Nicole Kidman," adopts the tone of an extended "Biographical Dictionary" entry, but focuses on one person and takes the first-person tone of a demented, helpless gothic romance.
"Suspects" is an early work by Thomson - his most experimental, his most brave (not because no one ever thought of it, but because no one would ever think it was a good idea), and his silliest. In several dozen biographical entries, he traces out the life stories of characters from movies - mostly noir films, mostly from the 40s and 50s, although Jack Torrance from "The Shining" and even one Jay Landesman Gatsby make an appearance, too. It is hard to know exactly how to read this book - it may be the most metaphysical film criticism ever created, or perhaps an elaborate work of fan fiction. Several entries add new, unexpected layers to old stories - Ilsa wasn't really in love with good old Victor Laszlo, she was just pretending to be his wife for the Resistance. Many entries end up overlapping. At first, this overlap can seem silly. By the end, when it becomes clear just who the narrator is and who his children have grown up to be, it is mesmerizing.
Mesmerizing is a good word for this book; I'm not sure you can call it "great," though. I noticed a definite lag of interest whenever I reached an entry based on a film I had not seen - and, indeed, I ended up skipping many of these entries, for fear of ruining the plot of a good movie.
There is great repetition - nearly every character is born with one name and changes to another one; too many of them find their way to Hollywood; incest recurs so often as to bemuse more than horrify (which may be Thomson's point.) Thomson is erudite without fail, and the book is fantastically easy to read, but its parts are much great than its whole.