"Oscar and Lucinda" is the latest from Gillian Armstrong, the Australian director who did a splendid job with "Little Women" and is noted for her insistence on
directing material with strong female characters. Her bold heroine this time is Lucinda (Cate Blanchett), a young headstrong Australian woman who decides to make an unusual purchase with her inheritance and has a very unlady-like passion for cards and dice. The interesting man
this time is Oscar (Ralph Fiennes)
a scrawny religious geek with a mop of flame-red hair, innumerable tics and a talent for gambling. This film's cryptic tag line
('A Dream. A Lie. A Wager. Love.') doesn't come near a summation of this extremely peculiar movie. It's filmed with the sensuous, distant
loveliness of a fairy-tale and is filled with surreal, dream-like shots. Based on a Booker prize-winning novel, the film is very literary in style and execution. Told in flashback by
Oscar's great-grandson (voice supplied by Geoffrey Rush of "Shine") the film unravels the story of Oscar and Lucinda, at first separately and then together, with periodic narration as to actions. This
story-telling technique adds to the once-upon-a-time quality of the tale, and Armstrong's superb sense of shot composition and awareness of how to move the camera within the planes of a shot bring a
formality and haunting beauty to the work.
It's a good thing the shots are so beautiful, because the hero is decidedly not. Hunka hunka burning love Ralph Fiennes, so edible as dashing Count Almasy in "The English Patient" and as leather-pants-wearing Lenny in
"Strange Days" shows he's a true acting chameleon who can do the impossible: he makes himself look repulsive. He seems to have drawn on Dickens's Uriah Heep for his twitchy, shambling wreck of an
Oscar. Oscar is a weirdo, pure and simple, and has been such since he was a child. He becomes even more oddball when he believes he is called to the Anglican religion and never looks back.
All the characters in this film choose their life's direction based on a minor incident: chalk falling on a square, the view of a factory from a boat, the glimpse of a prototype.
Oscar and Lucinda
meet on a ship and discover they are kindred souls, and their lives are never the same after their meeting. Oscar's penchant for gambling almost ruins him and Lucinda comes to his rescue.
These two misfits slowly grow to know and care for each other, and Oscar -- jealous of a possible rival -- concocts a wild wager that involves a treacherous journey, a glass church, and unspoken love.
"Oscar and Lucinda" is very much like another Australian movie set in the 19th century, "The Piano," in its shifting from intimate scenes between people, illuminating encounters examining the role
of women in those times, unlikely heroes and grand sweeping shots reveling in the savage beauty of Australia. Many Australian directors seem to favor bringing the landscape right into their movies, and
'Oscar and Lucinda' has many stunning shots of the land, its natural formations and its barely contained wildness. This film, like other Australian works, has many scenes suffused with blue (a symbol
for the power of nature) and an intense physicality. It's firmly feminist and romantic without sappiness. Only a woman would direct a film containing a scene with a man scrubbing floors as
a first spark of romance.
Halfway through the film, the movie shifts from Lucinda's journey as an independent woman of means seeking her soulmate, to frail Oscar's journey to manhood, complete with a
quick, shocking scene of violence and fulfillment of his task. It's amazing how red-hot Fiennes is so passively repellent in Oscar's awkward sexual scenes, yet blazes with intensity when he challenges
the expedition leader's authority. Fiennes plays against his sex symbol image by going the 'serious actress' route: pick a role where you look horrible and have to do bizarre things. He does this
well, though some of his scenes seem a bit too heavy on technique and lacking heart. Newcomer Cate Blanchett has a fantastic role as spirited Lucinda, and she's very very good. She has the
confident burn of a young Judy Davis and an eloquent, expressive face.
Photography and shots in this film are drop-dead gorgeous. It's as if paintings and lithographs have come to life in full living color. Intense colors and striking costumes [ed. note: Oscar nod for costumes]
lend the film its unreal, fairy-tale quality. Very effective use of music and scenes filled with observant detail (the glassworks factory, the ribbon around Lucinda's cards, Oscar's shabby room) bring us into the lives of these people.
Armstrong demonstrates her mastery of the gee-whiz shot several times, most notably the sight of the church floating down the river
. Wow! you just sit there with your jaw open. Fiennes' last scenes with the church turn into a haunting allegory of his life, a man
trapped by the constraints of his religion.
Strange, dreamy, puzzling, and offbeat, "Oscar and Lucinda" is another fine work by a director who uses her crystalline style to illuminate the struggles of
independent women and the unconventional men who love them. Very unusual, not for everyone. Ralph does appear bare-chested in this film but he has peeling lips and looks really icky, so don't
bother if you want to ogle him (rent "The Cormorant" for ogle-value). Recommended, for those who like strong visuals and unique vision. |
