head in the clouds
Written and Directed: John Duigan
As an old cliché goes, this one could've been a contender. Head in the Clouds could have been something if only it had dared. Instead, it is a poorly paced, badly directed period piece that wastes a bevy of talented stars. How disappointed they must have felt upon seeing the final product.
Charlize Theron has a tendency to be the best thing in terrible projects (think Sweet November) and astonishingly good in great projects (think Monster or The Road Warrior). Here she shares the screen for the second time with her real-life lover at the time Stuart Townsend. Even the knowledge that these two were together in real life can't fake an on-screen chemistry that doesn't exist. The two play a pair of star-crossed lovers who meet in the 1930's and form a bond that will take them through the devastation of the second world war.
When Guy (Townsend) meets Gilda (Theron) by chance as she hides out in his Cambridge dorm room, he falls in love with her instantly. She is a spoiled socialite and he is a poor, working class Irish boy on scholarship to Cambridge. He is filled with passion and political fervour, she's filled with nothing but a desire for happiness and personal pleasure. They have nothing in common, but have a brief sojourn before Gilda becomes afflicted with wanderlust and takes off to explore the world.
Years later Guy is a school teacher in England, on the brink of throwing it all in to join the Republican army in Spain to fight the first wave of European fascism. He receives a letter from Gilda in Paris and runs to her side, becoming caught up in her world of decadence and narcissism. Although he cannot help being affected by it, he always stands that little bit aloof from it all. He is complicit in their sins, but disgusted with his own complacency.
Gilda isn't alone in Paris. She lives with another woman, Mia (Penelope Cruz), who is an exotic dancer by night and a trainee nurse by day. The two are lovers, though neither seems inclined to let Guy in on the secret. He is happy to go on in his naive little world where Gilda loves only him. Gilda for her part is never dishonest, merely deluded, always deriding Guy and Mia for their working-class politics and their belief that one day this lifestyle will end when the war in Europe intrudes upon them all.
Finally the war does begin and Gilda is left alone when her two lovers go to fight for what they believe in. The resolution to both the war and the menage-a-trois makes up the third act. Needless to say Gilda is grossly underestimated (both by her lovers and by herself), but we knew from the start that her end could not possibly be a happy one.
The plot, as engaging as it sometimes has the potential to be, gets away from writer/director John Duigan. He goes so far as to develop a convoluted set of characters and an epic back story only to shy from real connections and emotional truths. Gilda is a creation to be proud of and Theron certainly was willing to play her to the edge (the revenge-inspired, S&M scene is the most successful and daring of the film), but in the end cowardly direction dulls those edges and cripples the story.
I had the distinct feeling of being trapped watching a bad play. The sets looked embarrassingly cardboard and the cinematography totally uninspired. A couple of trips on location into the countryside to a grand chateau only serve to demonstrate just how terrible the cityscapes are.
If the scenes between Townsend and Theron lacked chemistry, the scenes between the two women lacked pretty much everything. The vast majority of their relationship appears to either have taken place before Guy's arrival or when Guy (and hence the audience) are not around. They share a dance that shocks onlookers and one desperate kiss, but that's it. Exploring the attraction between the three mismatched lovers during their co-habitation would have heated the film up considerably, but even an implied threesome falls totally flat.
It purports to be a steamy exploration of a romance in a tragic time, and all it ends up being is a placid, stagey narrative where the lead characters are less interesting than the exquisite period furniture.