A Single Man (2009, R)

 

*Disclaimer: The last time I watched this movie, I exclaimed out loud when I saw the Weinstein Company ‘W’ logo during the opening credits – I hate that that man had a hand in so many great movies. In the case of A Single Man, the Weinstein Company didn’t produce it on the front end, but they did distribute it.*

 

You may infer from the picture, the year, and the rating that today’s post is about the movie and not the Christopher Isherwood novel it’s based on.  The book is exquisite, an absolute melancholic beauty, but the film is tremendous in its own right.  Though I’m sure it helps that I saw it before I read the book, I don’t really mind its deviations from the original story; the film always feels true to the soul of the book even when it changes the details, and it’s a gorgeous piece of evocative cinema.

 

George is an Englishman working as a professor in California in the early ‘60s.  Though he carries himself fairly well – a little sadly, but nothing beyond reason – no one can see how badly he’s broken inside.  It’s been a year since the unexpected death of his longtime partner, Jim, and ever since, it’s been a struggle simply to “become George” every morning.  The film takes place over a single “goddamn day” in George’s private grief, one he’s determined he won’t repeat.  The plot wanders a little (though it has a more specific through-line than the book,) but that’s all right, because George himself is wandering.  We follow him to and from work, on errands, alone, with students, with neighbors, with friends, and into his remembrances.

 

Every time I see this film, I’m floored by its use of color.  Most of the movie is washed-out and sepia-toned.  At first, one might think it’s merely a stylistic choice to suit the time period – after all, the film briefly switches to black-and-white when it steps inside an old photograph – but it’s so much more than that.  The flashbacks to George’s years with Jim are saturated with color, brilliant despite their unremarkable backdrops.  This is odd, since it’s far more typical for flashback sequences to get some sort of distinctive treatment (black-and-white, sepia-toned, fuzzy around the edges, etc.) and for the rest of a movie to be shot “normally,” but this film takes the opposite tactic.

 

That’s because George isn’t living in his present.  His life is the one he used to have, and so he passes like a quiet ghost through a day of browns and grays while his memories are soaked in tangibility and immediacy.  Similarly, there are a few moments in the film where George is pulled out of his thoughts and brought into the present, his head above water for a brief respite, and the color seeps back in for these moments.  A kind word, a soft smile, and just for a minute, George feels a connection again.  The whole device is so fantastic.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more effective screen technique to communicate the feeling of grief and depression. 

 

Colin Firth plays George with such gentle mournfulness, a silent shipwreck of a man hidden behind his stiff upper lip.  I’ll admit that he feels more like a character than Isherwood’s George, who’s so visceral and person-like, but he’s a better fit for the slightly different story the film is telling, and he carries it to perfection.  This was the first time I ever saw Matthew Goode, and he’s effortlessly great as Jim.  Nicholas Hoult (Tony from Skins) does a fine job as one of George’s students, Julianne Moore has a memorable turn as an old friend, and the movie also features Ginnifer Goodwin (Snow White!) and Lee Pace in small roles.

 

Warnings

 

Sexual content (including brief nudity) and strong thematic elements.