When a filmmaker puts a priority on style over substance, the result can be quite frustrating. In many cases, it is clear the director has some genuine talent, unlike the Michael Bays or Roland Emmerichs of the world, but the application of his/her creative gifts leaves something to be desired. This is how I feel when I look at the first two pictures from Tarsem Singh, a director of commercials and music videos who made the leap into feature films back in 2000. Other filmmakers who have taken a similar path, like David Fincher, seem to have adapted quicker and enjoyed superior results.
Tarsem's first film, The Cell, is the story of a serial killer whose method of murder involves a watertight glass room that fills gradually, drowning his prey. The FBI discovers his home early on, but the killer is comatose within, leaving the whereabouts of his final intended victim unknown. The FBI must find her before the cell fills with water, so they enlist the help of Catherine Deane (Jennifer Lopez), a psychologist experienced in a new virtual reality technology that allows her into the minds of comatose children. The idea is that Catherine can find the victim's location by taking a trip through the killer's head.
Visually, when it comes to bringing a demented mind to life on the screen, Tarsem does a fine job. The art direction is highly effective, and costume designer Eiko Ishioka adds her own special touch, formerly seen in films like Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters and Bram Stoker's Dracula (the similarity between Gary Oldman's armor in Dracula and the VR suits in The Cell is entirely obvious). It is unfortunate, however, that these superbly imaginative sequences are trapped within such an inept narrative. The characters are dull, and neither the criminal investigation or VR portions of the film are particularly satisfying on an intellectual level.
While Catherine is inside the killer's mind, she discovers a duality to his psyche, represented by an innocent child and a horned monster. The child is how the killer sees himself in the years before his father's abuse took its toll, while the monster embodies his murderous rage. As it turns out, the killer's method goes back to an event in his youth, when he chose to drown an injured bird to save it from his father. Frankly, the premise is interesting, and in the hands of a director who cared more about seriously exploring such themes instead of guiding us through a simplistic carnival of horrors, The Cell may have been a good movie. As it stands, there are far better pictures about serial killers and the compulsions they can't escape, including M (1931), Peeping Tom (1960), 10 Rillington Place (1971), Vengeance is Mine (1979), and Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer (1986).
As for Tarsem's latest film, The Fall, it earns full marks for effort, but ultimately possesses similar pros and cons. Set in Los Angeles in 1915, the plot follows a five-year-old girl named Alexandria (a marvelous debut from young Catinca Untaru) who is recovering at a hospital after breaking her arm. She meets Roy (Lee Pace), a paralyzed former movie stuntman, who befriends her by telling a fantastic story about five banished heroes in a faraway land and their quest to kill a villain called Governor Odious. Little does Alexandria know, Roy's motives are not entirely sincere, and he intends to end his life once she fetches him a bottle of morphine.
The story he tells is the key to earning Alexandria's trust, and though Roy just makes it up as he goes, she becomes engrossed in it. We see the tale unfold as she imagines it, changing according to her whims. Originally it is about pirates, but Alexandria doesn't care for pirates, so the heroes become “bandits”. Roy describes the Black Bandit as having a gap in his teeth, but Alexandria doesn't find that flattering, so Roy's more attractive likeness replaces the hero in her mind. With the major characters in the tale being played by people she sees around the hospital, one can not help but be reminded of The Wizard of Oz (1939), though the film also resembles Rob Reiner's The Princess Bride (1987) and Guillermo Del Toro's recent Pan's Labyrinth (2006).
Shot over four years in eighteen countries, The Fall sat on the shelf for another two years until finally given a limited theatrical release several months ago. To the film's credit, the cinematography is often gorgeous, the colorful costumes (again by Eiko Ishioka) practically leap off the screen, and despite all the grand looking production design, there are no computer generated effects. Unfortunately, there is also a lack of real substance or drama. These pictures, pretty as they are, feel indulgent and hollow. They are engaging only on the most superficial level, but the film is pretentious enough that plenty of viewers will believe they are watching a work of genius.
To those people I would like to recommend the 1986 BBC miniseries, The Singing Detective, which deals with imagination, perception, memory, and storytelling in a far more fascinating way. In short, it is about Philip E. Marlow, an author who retreats into his troubled childhood, paranoiac fantasies, and the plots of his old detective novels, while bedridden with a rare skin disease. It may lack the visual splendor of The Fall, but Dennis Potter's wonderful screenplay, John Amiel's unassuming direction, and Michael Gambon's terrific lead performance more than make up for that. Additionally, for those interested in a visual, cerebral, and less dialogue-heavy exploration of similar themes, Andrei Tarkovsky's Mirror (1975) and Yuri Norstein's A Tale of Tales (1980) will both put Tarsem's film in its place.
Near the end of The Fall, there is a prime example of why it fails to reach its lofty goals. In a state of emotional distress, Roy begins killing off everyone in the story, reducing Alexandria to tears. Even though the interplay between Alexandria and Roy is the best thing about the movie, this scene falls flat because we can't relate; it is absolutely impossible to care about these character's deaths. There is never any connection between the viewer and the fantasy story, as it rarely feels like anything more than a high quality vacation video.
Perhaps the day will come when Tarsem Singh will make a film with all of his strengths accounted for, and none of his weaknesses. If we are lucky, maybe it will happen in 2010 when his next film, War of Gods, is due to be released. Until then, I'm inclined to disagree with the title of the bonus feature on the DVD of The Cell: "Style as Substance". As I said, it is clearly style over substance in Tarsem's case.
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