Above: One of the two Jake Gyllenhaal's in Mr. Villeneuve's film
As a filmmaker, Denis
Villeneuve is clearly at home in the realm of stark, simple thrillers. His films may stretch across multiple
characters and locations, but they don’t have the frantic, fragmented energy of
a Paul Greengrass movie. Instead, Mr.
Villeneueve’s films (or least the ones I’ve watched) move slowly and queasily,
like an anorexic waiting for the right moment to vomit.
The director’s latest, “Enemy,” actually looks like
vomit—the cinematography (by Nicolas Bolduc) bleaches each image an ugly shade
of pale yellow. And that includes the
faces of Adam Bell and Anthony Claire, the film’s protagonists, both of whom
are played by Jake Gyllenhaal.
And why are Adam and Anthony both played by Mr.
Gyllenhaal? Good question. In the beginning, it seems as if they just
happen to be doppelgängers (when they first meet in a plain, suburban motel
room, it’s established that they can’t be brothers). But what accounts for this strange
coincidence? Cloning? An unexplainable conspiracy? James Cameron’s makeup department?
Personally, I’m at a loss. In fact, after watching “Enemy,” I was so
flummoxed that I called up YouTube and watched a video of critic Spencer Drake
explaining the film’s plot. His theory
(that the entire film hinges on hallucinations and schizophrenia) made sense,
though I couldn’t help feeling that the movie might be deliberately secretive. Why?
Because every moment in “Enemy”—from the sleek shots of Anthony’s
expensive apartment to the wide takes of washed-out skyscrapers—is eerily
pristine, designed more to build dread than conjure up any specific meaning.
Beyond that, there’s little to admire about the
film. Mr. Villeneuve has a gift for
merging realistic suspense with exaggerated horror (his movie “Prisoners” was
jarred by creeping snakes; similarly, “Enemy” is haunted by the looming images
of spiders). That ability both impresses
me and grosses me out, but the fact remains—“Enemy” is one of the worst-written
films of 2014.
By
restricting the dialogue to generic phrases and monologues (including a speech
about dictatorships that is delivered twice), Mr. Villeneuve and writer Javier
Gulón may have thought they were amping the terror, but all it really does is
drain the film of character and life.
Should we excuse artistic laziness for the sake of ambition? I hope I don’t need to answer that question.
It’s a shame that “Enemy” isn’t better—with a less
monochromatic script, Mr. Gyllenhaal could have delivered a truly unsettling
performance (the bland dialogue reduces him to a pretty face). That said, there’s something fascinating
about Mr. Villeneuve. I did find
“Prisoners” to be disgustingly violent, but both it and “Enemy” are at once
unpleasant and hard to forget.
What will the future bring? Mr. Villeneuve has already shot his next
film, the crime drama “Sicario” (which stars Emily Blunt and Josh Brolin). After that, he’ll direct “Story of Your
Life,” a science fiction picture about aliens and linguistics. Which makes me wonder—like Christopher Nolan
and Bryan Singer, will this scary new talent find his footing in the realm of
the fantastical? Will the natural
conventions of mainstream cinema imbue his abilities with empathy and life?
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