Painted Veil

The Painted Veil initially appears the perfect model for the classic historical melodrama. Edward Norton and Naomi Watts play Walter and Kitty, a typically bourgeoisie pair that marry on a whim and end up alone together in 1920s Shanghai. It’s there that Kitty, bored with her uninspiring bacteriologist husband, pursues an affair with the heartless-but-handsome English Vice Consul. When Walter discovers the two of them, he takes vengeance on his wife by dragging her into a remote Chinese village that is currently dissolving under the swift spread of a cholera infestation. The film makes no attempt to disguise its embrace of all the classic 'historical drama' tropes. As a novel adaptation, with an admittedly stunning visual portrayal of that particular time period, it's guaranteed to attract anyone with a weak heart in their chest and/or a Jane Austen book in their bag. Middle-aged women will no doubt be dragging their bored-looking husbands along to this one in droves.

Yet, despite The Painted Veil's overt embrace of all things ‘traditional’, there’s something quite oddly quirky, and almost surreal, about the film. In one rather sprawling scene, Walter, Kitty and their liquored next door neighbour (Toby Jones) chillax on their veranda, sipping cocktails and listening to records in the midst of a dying village. Unexpected, displaced moments such as this pop up all throughout the film. This is not necessarily a bad thing, in a certain sense it’s quite refreshing, but it will confuse viewers who are expecting a far more traditional story, while those who would appreciate such random departures probably won’t ever watch this film the whole way through. It also has to be said that the unfocused nature of the film does detract a little from its ability to tell the story effectively. The unstable pacing and the flat characters (especially when compared to director John Curran’s past films, Praise and We Don’t Live Here Anymore) don't help mcuh in this department.

Rating: 6.9

Gone Baby Gone

By all accounts, Dennis Lehane’s crime novel, Gone Baby Gone, is supposedly a gripping read. Best known as the author of Mystic River, he apparently fills this novel with contradictory characters who rise to challenging moral predicaments and in doing so impart insight into the human condition. You wouldn’t reach the same conclusion after seeing the book’s film adaptation by Ben Affleck, who has once more stepped behind the camera to take on the roles of director and writer (along with Aaron Stockard). In this tale of a missing child, and the private detectives who search for her amidst a labyrinth of mystery and moral ambiguity, Affleck has gravely neglected one of the most important elements in any story. While he may have done a fine job of evoking the desperation of a conflicted family, and establishing the beginnings of a potentially intriguing script, he’s forgotten to include characters.

The human beings who propel the narrative of Gone Baby Gone are no more than empty catalysts for the continuing action. Patrick Kenzie, the private investigator hired to track down five-year-old Amanda, is an entirely flat individual who displays no evident personality traits, and Casey Affleck (Ben’s brother) delivers Patrick’s lines in matching monotone. The police officers who work simultaneously for and against Patrick are just lacklustre actors dressed in uniform, Amanda’s drug-addicted mother is a classic cliché with her running make-up and brash irreverence, and, worse of all is Patrick’s partner Angie (played by Michelle Monoghan) who does literally nothing for the whole film – she silently accompanies on his various investigations functioning, if anything, as a liability that slows his case down. Sure, the storyline is relatively intriguing and the moral predicaments do provide some food for thought – but without characters these concepts can only ever be interrogated abstractly, which makes for a detached cinema experience that is easy to forget.

Rating: 5.5

Secret of the Grain

The Secret of the Grain has so far swept up all the major Cesar Awards, as well as France’s most coveted honour, the Prix Louis Delluc. Internationally, it has been released to widespread acclaim, and, here in Perth, it is the first film from Cinema Paradiso’s recent Alliance Français French Film Festival to have received a longer release. This may seem a strange pattern of events, given director Abdellatif Kachiche’s penchant for divisively subversive cinema techniques. In this film, plot is rendered secondary to the dynamics of character interaction, and everyday exchanges are allowed to unfold at great (and sometimes unnecessary) length. Character focus shifts erratically throughout the film, pacing is distinctively uneven, and, throughout the film’s two and a half hour duration, there is ample opportunity to question its purpose and its point.

In short, the film is a lot of work, and what you get out of it is not the traditional cinematic experience of climax and resolution. Instead, Kachiche paints a vivid picture of an often-overlooked part of France. He introduces us to Silimane, a sixty-year-old North African immigrant, and his loving but unconventional family – a devoted ex-wife, their four children, grandchildren and children-in-law, plus his current lover and her sparkling teenage daughter, Rym. He presents Silimane’s daily struggles with immigrant life and with family without warping them into a falsified narrative structure, instead allowing them to unfold more naturally and haphazardly. This overwhelming realism can be tiring and tedious, but it can also rewarding. The actors are able to bring a raw sincerity to their characters, and emotions are allowed to play out without restraint (in a manner that is at times quite confronting). Still, it’s certainly not a film that everyone will enjoy, and the urge to whip out some scissors and give it a more thorough editing is at times quite overwhelming. Approach this one with caution, and make sure you’re in the right state of mind before you purchase your ticket.

Rating: 7.0