Somewhere in a corral, cornered by "Bladerunner" "Lovers of the Arctic Circle" and "Spotless Mind" quietly prances this film in the darkness.
Winterbottom has never let me down, his understanding of cinematically defined human currents that pull is deep. His films are centered not on story or place or characters, but the urges that pull them. No, the threads at the edges of those urges. He's never let me down, I say again, because I will forget.
This is a bleak film. Oh, I should probably warn you before you look at the special features. DON'T.
This is one of those cases where you have to trust the artistry of the participants and not the blather they provide. It may be that everyone involved thought they were making a movie that warned us about big brother or some other terror around the corner. Never mind that and just take what this is as it comes. It is a haunting work, with just the most teasing hint of those edges I mentioned, placed in an otherwise sterile container. And that's the only way to see those edges: briefly, faintly in the periphery with few other distractions.
The story has all sorts of science fiction devices that you should simply accept. They aren't there for you to watch, they simply set up the extraordinary confines of the romance. Two people fall in love more or less instantly. (Each may have been exposed to some special substance that has caused this, but we see it inside the groping toward each other. We see it as genuine.) And as the story moves around the posts of its corral, each lover in turn has their memory of the love removed. Its a truly provocative and disturbing notion. There's some fighting of this, but it is incidental, a simple exhale. What makes it disturbing is how seriously and deeply our woman has given herself. He does too, but she gives everything. Everything. I'm not normally a fan of Samantha's approach to eye submission. But she is so small and vulnerable compared to Robbins and he so forward in giving.
I won't reveal the development, but it is a triple tragedy, the absolute worst that could possibly happen.
Or is it? The final scene focuses on Morton's face. There's a similar scene at the end of "Monster's Ball" where everything we have seen is supposed to be measured in Berry's face, and weighed in all its ambiguities. Berry isn't up to it and that project fails. But Morton is, bless her.
You may not long forget that gaze, the knowing, the having traveled. The probability that she would do it all again, knowing.
In a way, it recalls a similar loss and position in the remarkably obtuse and deep "Sweet and Lowdown."
Ted's Evaluation -- 3 of 3: Worth watching.