A Single Man

Before A Single Man I only knew its director, Tom Ford, for being the photographer who shot the somewhat sensational cover of Vanity Fair with a naked Scarlett Johannson and Keira Knightley. I think it's interesting that for that cover he chose to insert himself in the photo, otherwise marring a pretty good thing. In his film debut, he does something of the same thing.

Not that I didn't like A Single Man, I admired it a good deal. It has a fine foundation, with a solid script by For and David Scearce, and is elevated by an outstanding central performance by Colin Firth. But Ford, whom I picture wearing a beret and carrying a megaphone, has decided to direct this thing within an inch of its life, seeking to call attention to himself.

Based on a groundbreaking novel by Christopher Isherwood, A Single Man, set in Los Angeles in 1962, details a day in the life of a British college professor named George Falconer, played by Firth. Eight months earlier his partner, Matthew Goode, was killed in an automobile accident and he has not gotten over the grief. He has decided to kill himself, and goes about the day in an interesting combination of a fog and astute clarity, as he gets all his papers in order, and lays them out carefully on his desk.

During the day he teaches a class, giving a little speech about the fear of minorities, flirts with a hunky Spaniard in front of a liquor store, has dinner with his friend, neighbor and fellow ex-pat (Julianne Moore), and goes skinny-dipping in the ocean with a student, who clearly is up for more than just swimming. Throughout we get glimpses of his past life with Goode, whom he met shortly after the end of World War II, and with whom he was deliriously happy.

The novel was one of the first mainstream books that was open about homosexuality, which of course back then was the love that dared not speak its name. A poignant scene, which Firth nails, has him hearing the news of Goode's death from a cousin, as the young man's parents weren't going to tell Firth at all. Upon hearing that he isn't even invited to the memorial service is a heart-wrenching moment.

What's unclear in the script is just what the turning point for Firth was to make him to decide to kill himself. Not to be morbid, but I'm interested in the thought processes of suicides--what goes through the mind when one makes peace with the decision to end one's life? We get a lot of the preparation--Firth clearing out his safe-deposit box, buying bullets, and a ghoulishly funny sequence where he tries to get comfortable before shooting himself, but it seemed to me that the death of a loved one, horrible as that was, didn't justify the drastic step. Given the date (November 30, 1962), there is peripheral talk about the Cuban missile crisis and the real possibility of nuclear annihilation, but Firth shrugs that talk off.

As stated, Ford, like a man playing with a new toy, overdoes it in his direction. There are useless bits of flair, such as slow-motion footage, unnecessary close-ups, and turning otherwise meaningless objects like a little girl in a blue dress, or a rose, or an owl, into hugely important symbols. Ford is also obviously in love with the time period, and there is loving details, with vintage sports cars, furniture, music, and an exquisitely rendered bar near the beach. The photography by Eduard Grau has a washed out look, like a fading Polaroid, although at certain times colors, like the blue in the girl's dress, become vivid. This has the effect of making the film look like a layout in a fashion magazine, which is further reinforced by having several actors look like models (which I'm sure a few of them are--a quick check reveals that a young woman playing a student is top fashion model Aline Weber).

However all of that did not ruin my enjoyment of the film. Firth's characterization is so authentic that it leaps off the screen. Coupled with his turn in Easy Virtue earlier this year this has been an outstanding year for him. Moore, who has a brief role, also makes a mark, as a boozy woman afraid she has lost her looks and carrying a torch for her friend, of whom she ruefully remarks that if he wasn't such a "poof" they could have had a life together. The chemistry between them is great, particularly a scene where they dance to "Green Onions."

I was less impressed with Nicholas Hoult as the solicitous student. He dominates the last quarter of the film, and is so annoying (he keeps calling Firth "sir," and I was hoping Firth would tell him to knock it off) that it really started to bug me. I think this is less the fault of the actor, who has a pretty face that Ford must have been enchanted by, rather than the character.