Cast: Colin Firth, Julianne Moore, Matthew Goode
Los Angeles, 1962. George (Firth)– a gay English university professor living in Santa Monica – has just been informed that his lover of 16 years, Jim (Goode), has been killed in a car accident. George is not allowed to attend the funeral because Jim’s family disapproves of their “abominable” relationship. What follows is a fascinating and melancholy character study of a man who has lost the only thing he loved, but is not allowed to grieve openly.
The man is a gay professor and the thing he loved, his partner; but stripping away the macrocosm of the film, this is a universal story about the modern tendency to avoid grief wherever possible. We are told that grief, sadness, and despair are unattractive qualities that should be repressed; but this film is a testament to the importance of acknowledging grief, both within ourselves and in those close to us.
The film follows George on the day he has decided to kill himself. He meticulously arranges everything from his bed sheets to his tax returns before exploring the intricacies of shooting himself inside a sleeping bag to avoid unnecessary mess. There is something darkly comedic about this early sequence, aided by Firth’s plodding despondency, but it points towards a much grittier reality: he has spent so long grieving silently, not wanting to get in anybody’s way, that even in death he is trying to remain considerate.
George’s efforts are interrupted by a phone call from his best friend – the ageing but gorgeous spinster hipster, Charley (Moore) – begging him to have dinner with her that evening. George agrees, and so the timeframe is set; we will have our intriguing protagonist for one day. This day sees George interacting with a number of beautiful young men – from a flirtatious student to a smouldering rent boy at a convenience store. He sees Jim in all these men, and his attraction to them seems to be based less on sexuality and more on a desperate need to confront his hidden grief and tear at the suture of his broken heart.
George’s dinner with Charley is a beautifully conceived scene, largely because the characters are so perfectly moulded. Charley has been in love with George for many years, and her own troubled life and sense of exclusion from society have left her just as broken as him. The fact that they are English people living in a foreign land is a simple conceit, but it helps to reiterate the fact that this unusual couple are stranded in a strange world that doesn’t want to acknowledge them.
This ‘dinner’ sequence is certainly beautifully plotted and performed, with all the emotions simmering just below the surface; but one can’t help but feel that this was the film’s one chance at an explosive and cathartic argument of Albee-esque proportions. That this is never achieved certainly doesn’t hurt the film, but it could have elevated the visceral and emotional impact on the viewer to a new height of drama.
George heads to the beach bar where he first met Jim, and runs into his university student (who has actually been tailing him all evening). This naïve and confident young man provides the burst of uncontrollable energy that has been so desperately lacking in George’s life since Jim’s death. They swim naked in the ocean and kiss passionately. There is no romance here – it is just a broken professor kissing his simple and awe-filled student – but there is a sense that George has found a way to go on living. He hasn’t found love, he hasn’t overcome his grief, it is not as insincere as all that; but he has discovered away to confront his grief alone.
‘A Single Man’ is the debut feature from fashion designer Tom Ford (the former creative head of Gucci). The visual style of the film is therefore predictably stunning and precise. Anybody with a passion for 1960s aesthetics (from fashion and interior design to cars and kitchen appliances) will be mesmerised by the meticulous attention to detail, and the beauty that Ford instils in every frame. What could never have been predicted, however, was the effortless talent that Ford has for storytelling. As well as directing, Ford also adapted the original novel himself (with the help of David Scearce). The pace of the film, and the way the emotions and themes are so densely inter-woven and undulate so rhythmically, is virtually perfect; and it is almost unfathomable that this was achieved by a first-time director.
Colin Firth is extraordinary in the leading role. His natural melancholy and slow-plodding rhythm bring an intense and tangible sadness to the character; but there is always something warm and comforting in Firth’s demeanour, and this helps to bring empathy to this withdrawn and lonely man. Julianne Moore is naturally perfect as Charley: she is a whirlwind of curse words, ashtrays, and empty gin bottles, crashing around her lavish apartment with a frenetic and misdirected purpose.
Los Angeles, 1962. George (Firth)– a gay English university professor living in Santa Monica – has just been informed that his lover of 16 years, Jim (Goode), has been killed in a car accident. George is not allowed to attend the funeral because Jim’s family disapproves of their “abominable” relationship. What follows is a fascinating and melancholy character study of a man who has lost the only thing he loved, but is not allowed to grieve openly.
The man is a gay professor and the thing he loved, his partner; but stripping away the macrocosm of the film, this is a universal story about the modern tendency to avoid grief wherever possible. We are told that grief, sadness, and despair are unattractive qualities that should be repressed; but this film is a testament to the importance of acknowledging grief, both within ourselves and in those close to us.
The film follows George on the day he has decided to kill himself. He meticulously arranges everything from his bed sheets to his tax returns before exploring the intricacies of shooting himself inside a sleeping bag to avoid unnecessary mess. There is something darkly comedic about this early sequence, aided by Firth’s plodding despondency, but it points towards a much grittier reality: he has spent so long grieving silently, not wanting to get in anybody’s way, that even in death he is trying to remain considerate.
George’s efforts are interrupted by a phone call from his best friend – the ageing but gorgeous spinster hipster, Charley (Moore) – begging him to have dinner with her that evening. George agrees, and so the timeframe is set; we will have our intriguing protagonist for one day. This day sees George interacting with a number of beautiful young men – from a flirtatious student to a smouldering rent boy at a convenience store. He sees Jim in all these men, and his attraction to them seems to be based less on sexuality and more on a desperate need to confront his hidden grief and tear at the suture of his broken heart.
George’s dinner with Charley is a beautifully conceived scene, largely because the characters are so perfectly moulded. Charley has been in love with George for many years, and her own troubled life and sense of exclusion from society have left her just as broken as him. The fact that they are English people living in a foreign land is a simple conceit, but it helps to reiterate the fact that this unusual couple are stranded in a strange world that doesn’t want to acknowledge them.
This ‘dinner’ sequence is certainly beautifully plotted and performed, with all the emotions simmering just below the surface; but one can’t help but feel that this was the film’s one chance at an explosive and cathartic argument of Albee-esque proportions. That this is never achieved certainly doesn’t hurt the film, but it could have elevated the visceral and emotional impact on the viewer to a new height of drama.
George heads to the beach bar where he first met Jim, and runs into his university student (who has actually been tailing him all evening). This naïve and confident young man provides the burst of uncontrollable energy that has been so desperately lacking in George’s life since Jim’s death. They swim naked in the ocean and kiss passionately. There is no romance here – it is just a broken professor kissing his simple and awe-filled student – but there is a sense that George has found a way to go on living. He hasn’t found love, he hasn’t overcome his grief, it is not as insincere as all that; but he has discovered away to confront his grief alone.
‘A Single Man’ is the debut feature from fashion designer Tom Ford (the former creative head of Gucci). The visual style of the film is therefore predictably stunning and precise. Anybody with a passion for 1960s aesthetics (from fashion and interior design to cars and kitchen appliances) will be mesmerised by the meticulous attention to detail, and the beauty that Ford instils in every frame. What could never have been predicted, however, was the effortless talent that Ford has for storytelling. As well as directing, Ford also adapted the original novel himself (with the help of David Scearce). The pace of the film, and the way the emotions and themes are so densely inter-woven and undulate so rhythmically, is virtually perfect; and it is almost unfathomable that this was achieved by a first-time director.
Colin Firth is extraordinary in the leading role. His natural melancholy and slow-plodding rhythm bring an intense and tangible sadness to the character; but there is always something warm and comforting in Firth’s demeanour, and this helps to bring empathy to this withdrawn and lonely man. Julianne Moore is naturally perfect as Charley: she is a whirlwind of curse words, ashtrays, and empty gin bottles, crashing around her lavish apartment with a frenetic and misdirected purpose.
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