SELF/LESS. Directed by Tarsem Singh, with Ryan Reynolds, Natalie Martinez and Derek Luke.
REVIEW: Stephen Farber
IN 1966, John Frankenheimer directed one of his most audacious movies, Seconds, with a script by Lewis John Carlino from a novel by David Ely. It told the story of an older banker who solicits the help of a shadowy organisation that will fake his death and reconstruct him with a new identity, face and body. The movie was a box-office flop, but has developed a cult following over the years and clearly had an influence on the makers of Self/ less director Singh and screenwriters Alex Pastor and David Pastor. The new film has more of a traditional thriller angle than the Frankenheimer film, so might have a better commercial shot, though its prospects still seem iffy.
Of course, Seconds wasn’t a brand-new idea even in 1966; it was one of many variations on the Frankenstein myth, and we’ve seen other stories about people going to great lengths to cheat death and seek a second chance. But the similarities between this new film and Frankenheimer’s movie are too striking to ignore. The failings here reveal a good deal about what has gone wrong with American movies over the last 50 years.
In Seconds, the main character was suffering from severe malaise that led him to take drastic measures. The protagonist of Self/less, Damian Hale (Ben Kingsley), is a wealthy businessman haunted by personal dissatisfactions, but he has a more immediate problem: terminal cancer. So when he learns about a scientific institute that can retain his mind but give him a new, healthy body created in a lab, he jumps at the chance.
In the Frankenheimer movie, the old man was reincarnated as Rock Hudson, and it’s apt that the younger Damian is portrayed by a contemporary hunk in the Hudson mold, Ryan Reynolds. Both Hudson and Reynolds became movie stars on the basis of their looks rather than their acting abilities, so the casting makes a certain kind of poetic sense.
Once Damian has been reincarnated, he adjusts slowly but eagerly to his healthy new body, satisfying his hedonistic appetites. Soon, however, Damian begins to be troubled by mental visions that his handlers assure him are merely hallucinations. But Damian begins to suspect that they are images of events that really happened. Whose past is he remembering? As he searches for answers to the mystery, the organization is desperate to keep him from learning the truth.
So far so good. There is a neat twist halfway through the film, when Damian discovers some startling answers at a farm in Missouri. This exciting sequence is the high-point of the film. After that, the remaining twists become increasingly far-fetched, and the intriguing story degenerates into a flat-out action movie with car chases and violent shoot-outs that are competently filmed by Singh, but seem to come from a far more conventional film.
Reynolds tries hard, but he just can’t muster enough expression to make the character’s dilemma wrenching. Kingsley has only a small part at the beginning, and his exaggerated New Yawk accent will not be remembered as the high point of his acting career. Natalie Martinez plays Damian’s romantic interest without any special distinction. Michelle Dockery of Downton Abbey has a small role as Damian’s daughter.
Technical credits are solid. Singh and cinematographer Brendan Galvin make good use of the attractive locations. The editing by Robert Duffy helps to paper over the holes in the script and keep the movie hurtling forward. The only truly egregious touch comes at the very end: Seconds took the story to a dark, but perfectly logical conclusion; Self/less seems to be heading toward an equally melancholy, or at least bittersweet conclusion, but then lurches unconvincingly toward a blissful reunion on a Caribbean island. Sadly, the uncompromising film-making of the 1960s is unima-ginable for today’s craven storytellers and studio executives. – Reuters/ Hollywood Reporter