Film Review - Cold Souls
Sophia Barthes Puts Existentialism on Ice in Feature Debut
Since the film's stateside debut at the Sundance Film Festival (Jan. 2009), NYC-based director Sophia Barthes has had to field plenty of questions regarding her story's similarities to the works of Charlie Kaufman. And, in defense of fellow interviewers and journalists, there are quite a few comparisons between the two.
Cold Souls features an actor (Giamatti) playing a slightly altered version of himself, overwhelming existential doubts and the subtle interplay of melancholy and deadpan, all cast against a decidedly intellectual backdrop of Jungian theory and Russian literature. Of course, many of these things bring to mind one of Kaufman's greatest influences -- Woody Allen (though he was always more into Freud).
Since Allen has long since abandoned the sort of work where philosophical thought, visual elegance and acerbic humor all get equal billing, there seems to be plenty of room in this universe for both Barthes and Kaufman. Judging on the quick-witted merits of Cold Souls -- Barthes first feature as writer and director -- it's a case of the more the merrier.
The Unbearable Lightness of Soul Removal
Barthes posits a universe where it is universally accepted: Inside of every one of us, we have a soul, each one varying in size, color and metaphysical nature. When The New Yorker highlights a Roosevelt Island company specializing in soul removal and storage, American actor Paul Giamatti (Giamatti) jumps at the chance.
Weighed down by the pressures of everyday life and a challenging turn as the lead in Anton Chekov's Uncle Vanya, Giamatti visits The Soul Storage Company's sterile office (the waiting room looks like an Apple store) and has a consultation with Dr. Flinstein (David Straithairn).
Giamatti emerges from the soul extraction machine as if delivered from some sort of Philip K. Dick-inspired womb. His soul appears bottled, nothing but a chickpea.
He soon discovers, of course, just how much that little chickpea means, as everything seems to fall out of place without his soul. Barthes and Giamatti project soullessness not as blankness but as callousness, a general inability to care and connect.
Soul Trafficking via St. Petersburg
His wife (Emily Watson, excellent as always) notices the change quickly, and what starts as a few quirky, off days quickly balloons into the failure of a marriage. He can't perform in the bed or on the stage, and so Giamatti longs to reconnect with his soul.
Without giving away too much story detail, there's a bit of a snafu and some soul mix up courtesy of a soul mule, Nina (Dina Korzun) who transports souls on the Russian black market. Clever plotting connects the dots and lands Giamatti on the frozen streets of Saint. Petersburg, trying to reclaim his misplaced soul.
The Language of Soulfulness and Soullessness
Giamatti's nervy performance -- it's no surprise to read that Barthes once imagined Allen inhabiting the role -- drives the film. He's a wonder of facial acrobatics and shifting delivery in each Giamatti persona, nailing the comedic delivery as well as the depression and longing of a man who never seems comfortable in his shoes, no matter whose soul he is (or isn't carrying).
Behind the camera, Barthes and cinematographer Andrij Parekh take a muted approach which helps keep Cold Souls understated. There's a considerable bit of jumping around from character to character, U.S. to Russia, not to mention flashbacks/ soul memories and the visual language of soul overload.
Both Barthes and Parekh have an eye for clean composition, and although they frequently rely on staple of indie cinema, the handycam, the cinematic metaphor of the camera searching seems appropriate considering the subject matter.
A Leap (or Lapse?) of Faith
Where Cold Souls falters slightly is in its grand omission: spirituality. You can see why Barthes would want to avoid bringing up religion in her film -- it's a messy topic, even in science fiction. Early in the film, Giamatti mentions briefly that he doesn't believe in any religion, which is fine, but to completely skirt the question of faith from there on ultimately works to the film's disadvantage.
Just hearing the word "soul" immediately conjures up thoughts of spirituality and religion, and so, it's asking a little too much for an audience to completely cast these preconceptions aside. Better that Barthes explain less than get preachy or didactic, in her debut no less. But for all the ingenuity Cold Souls has -- and that's a lot -- there is a bit of weightlessness to its punch in the end.
RATING: 3.5 out of 5 stars
VERDICT: Clever as hell, frosty and intellectual -- these are both the best and worst things you could say about Cold Souls. As Barthes's first outing though, it's an impressive little piece, brought to life by Giamatti's skittish performance.
Cold Souls
|
What do you think about this article?
More in Film & TV
Latest Articles