Wednesday, March 10, 2010

A Single Man: Style over Substance

The trailer for Tom Ford's directorial debut A Single Man got me interested: the repetitions of a ticking clock over sumtuously shot scenes, with a spattering of quotes that praised the film was a great way to capture interest. I was especially interested in seeing the masterwork of Julianne Moore on screen.

Yet A Single Man is ultimately a film of style over any real substance. George, a lonely man who had lost his partner eight months before, plans to kill himself. Along the day, he puts everything together for his suicide and talks to a few people who share his bitter, depressing world. This includes Charley, a woman who is poised to lose her good looks, and is holding her pitiful life together with drinking and smoking, while pining for George, who is ever unattainable.

My first complaint is that every other shot was an extreme closeup of an eye, a mouth, or the burning end of a cigarette. The first few times were arresting, but afterwards, the technique got tired rather quickly. The music in the movie was beautiful and urgent, but hearing the same damn song on repeat for two hours drilled it into your head. Julianne Moore, known as Freckleface Strawberry in her youth, was hardly in the film! Yet she was shown in all the trailers. I lamented her severely limited role, because her acting abilities (though routine) are astounding. The sexual tension of the film was ridiculous. George trolled about through life confronting men who looked like they just stepped off the runway but refused to do anything about it. I'm not saying he should have gone and screwed them all, it was just ridiculous that he found himself in that situation all the time.

The dialogue was unrealistic. No 20 year old college student speaks so enlightened and profound as the Mr. Potter character, and George never had a banal thought the whole movie. The symbolism was heavy handed, such as when George is pulled out of the water (oh he's saved from his drowning life, how deep!) Finally, the film seemed to be trying to make a grand point about life, death and love, but it was so full of points and themes and topics that it was weighted down and sunk. Some ideas were presented and went nowhere, others were so muddled and confused that it was baffling as to why they were included.

The worst part about this movie is that George resolves to live, then he suffers a heart attack after burning all the kind words he wrote out about the people close to him. Pointless death.

What I can praise is the art direction, it captured the 60s very well. The costumes were good as well, though black was overused.

Overall, the film was boring, pointless, directionless, and a monotonous repeat of the same music and shot style. There were even moments that the acting felt self conscious, like when George runs an inked finger across his mouth (it was a very "acting" moment, something that wouldn't happen in real life). The dearth of scenes with Julianne Moore, the fact that Colin Firth couldn't carry a movie, and that the film took itself too seriously (it was self conceited) made for a regrettable waste of two hours.

Pretentious and pointless.

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