Taking A Walk On The Dark Side

originally published March 19, 2008

The 2008 Oscars proved that it was good to be bad, with No Country for Old Men, a film about a murderous sociopath, and There Will Be Blood, a film about a man ravaged by greed and hate, sweeping the categories. In honor of Anderson’s and the Coens' dark successes, this week’s films showcase tortured characters.

Perfume: The Story Of A Murderer

(R) 2006.

Tom Tykwer’s (Lola rennt, Der Krieger und die Kaiserin) sensuality soars with his adaptation of Peter Süsskind’s Das Perfume. Jean-Baptiste Grenouille (Ben Whishaw) is an orphan gifted with an extraordinary olfactory sense. Rejected at birth by his mother, and later by everyone else around him, Jean-Baptiste's overwhelming sense of smell is matched by an emotional disconnect, and the story slowly uncovers his sociopathic tendencies.

Jean-Baptiste discovers his calling when he stumbles upon the workshop of notable perfumer Giuseppe Baldini (Dustin Hoffman), under whom he begins working as his apprentice. Finally striking out on his own, he heads off to Basque to continue his quest to concoct the ultimate scent. He finds it, but at the expense of a young female whom he kills and preserves in large vat of alcohol. As Grenouille works to create the perfect perfume, the death toll of young, beautiful women in the city rises.

Tykwer’s adaptation, while creating an almost tangible composite of sensuality, raises an interesting point about the destructive nature of human appetite. Grenouille’s murdering for his insatiable smell may be shocking, but it is simply an exaggeration of the way society allows destruction and death for the sake of appetite.

The film's only inconsistency is the accents of the characters. All of Tykwer's cast have British accents, despite the film's setting in 18th-century France; which begs the question, why must all period films choose actors with English accents? Are there no other talented foreign actors who can speak English in their native accents?

Tykwer once again enlists cinematographer Frank Griebe (director of photography for both Lola rennt and Der Krieger und die Kaiserin) for Perfume. In testament to Griebe’s meticulous, sensual cinematography, I conclude this review with a personal anecdote. Halfway through the film, my DVD player broke. In earnest dedication to this column, I attempted to finish watching it on my crap-top (crappy lap-top), but lost a good bit of the dialogue because my computer's sound system is outdated, to say the least. Griebe’s command of the camera leaves little need for dialogue, and thanks to his mastery, none of the narrative was lost in my sound-deficient viewing.

A+

Sherrybaby

(R) 2006.

After spending three years in prison for robbery, former heroin addict Sherry Swanson (Maggie Gyllenhaal) is released on parole. Temporarily assigned to an all-women's halfway-house, she is desperate to reconnect with her young daughter Alexis (Ryan Simpkins), who is in the custody of her brother and sister-in-law. As Sherry struggles to assimilate into society, she must fight the demons of her past and battle her addictions. Mistrust and rejection tempt Sherry back to old habits, and getting her life together translates into a devastating pattern of broken promises. Sherrybaby simultaneously showcases two-time director Laurie Collyer’s intuitive grasp of character while simultaneously exposing weakness as a screen writer.

A low-budget film, Collyer assembled a cast of unknowns, with the exception of Gyllenhaal. The small time actors prove worthy matches to Gyllenhaal’s skill, however, most notably Danny Trejo, who plays Dean, a former addict and mentor to Sherry, and Brad William Henke, who plays Sherry’s sympathetic brother Bobby. Maggie Gyllenhaal showcases her ability to master any character thrown at her. As Sherry she is a textbook DFCS case, chain-smoking throughout the film’s entirety, suffocating her young child with her codependency and need for attention, and exposing Sherry’s manipulation and insecurity through overt displays of sexuality.

The storyline, unfortunately, pales in the light of the cast’s dynamic performances. Transparent from the get-go, not even Gyllenhaal’s unique characterization can salvage this hackneyed story. Collyer whittles down Sherry's self-destructive behavior and arrested development to clichéd sources. Once her father molests her (as an adult, no less) at her brother’s house, we seem to know exactly where the story is going. Sexual abuse can certainly spark an index of problematic behaviors, but the way Collyer oversimplifies Sherry's dilemma is too Lifetime-y to be believable.

C-

Robin Geddie