He
is an American veteran with a considerably younger wife and a flexible
conscience. He cuts a Don Draper-like figure, but Patricia Highsmith’s
anti-hero was created during the Mad Men era.
The Greek coppers are no match for Chester MacFarland, but an under-achieving
Ivy Leaguer will be a more formidable rival in Hossein Amini’s adaptation of The Two Faces of January (trailer here), which opens this
Friday in New York.
Although
he shares a clear kinship with the talented Tom Ripley, MacFarland lacks his
literary cousin’s long-term strategic thinking. After bilking his investors,
including some rather “connected” gentlemen, with a Ponzi scheme, MacFarland
has blithely embarked on a European tour with his young wife, Collette. He
seems to embody all the financial security and mature masculinity she always needed,
yet something about their scruffy American tour guide Rydal Keener catches her
eye. There is no question about Keener’s attraction to the trophy wife, but he
is also struck by MacFarland’s eerie resemblance to his recently deceased
father.
After
a fateful night of sightseeing and boozing, MacFarland is confronted by a
private detective representing his dodgy former clients. As the discussion gets
heated, a struggle ensues, during which MacFarland accidentally kills the
flatfoot. In full panic mood, the swindler flees the hotel with Collette, leaving
their passports behind. As international fugitives, they now engage Keener as
their guide through the Southern European underworld. The circumstances have
changed, but three is still an awkward crowd.
January is truly a
lushly crafted film, luxuriating in its exotic locales and natty costumes. Veteran
Dogme cinematographer Marcel Zyskind proves to be surprisingly adept at the
sun-bathed noir look, capitalizing on all the striking Mediterranean backdrops.
Production designer Michael Carlin and costumer Steven Noble also recreate the
look and feel of 1962 in rich detail. In fact, it is a technically accomplished
film in every respect.
Nonetheless,
Highsmith’s slim novel still feels rather undernourished on-screen. Frankly, some
of Hossein’s deviations from the source material undermine the film’s dramatic credibility.
Killing a police officer is serious business in any country, but it is hard to
believe a Yankee with a suitcase full of cash couldn’t bribe his way out of
trouble with a dead American P.I. in early 1960’s Greece.
Regardless,
Viggo Mortensen might have been born to play MacFarland, subtly hinting at all
the neuroses the strong, silent anti-hero is bluffing over. Frankly, Mortensen’s
powerfully understated performance and the tilt of Hossein’s screenplay
complete stack the deck against poor Keener and Collette, no matter who was
filling their shoes. Indeed, it would be hard to understand why the younger man
is so bewitched by the pale, dull Kirsten Dunst, but Oscar Isaac’s Keener is
equally empty.
