Somewhere Beautiful bills itself as a ‘reimagining’ of Atom Egoyan‘s 1993 film Calendar; a curio in the Canadian director’s canon in which a photographer travels across Armenia with his wife and a local driver, with Egoyan playing a director ‘auditioning’ a series of escorts to find the one who most closely resembles his wife. In Somewhere Beautiful, Patagonia replaces Armenia and Toronto becomes Los Angeles as co-writer, cinematographer and director Albert Kodagolian assumes the role played by Egoyan. ‘Reimagining’ is an unfortunate way for Kodagolian to pitch the film; the term conjures images of a committee churning out the latest affront to the legacy of a revered property.
Appropriating such a singular and critically acclaimed work for one’s debut feature is a risky proposition, and Kodagolian utilizes what he learned under the tutelage of maverick director Mike Figgis – the film was made in ‘real time’ without storyboards or a completed script and shot on celluloid. If this sounds like a costly high-wire act, Kodagolian was reacting against the risk-averse, focus-grouped world of advertising where he made his name. One can admire Kodagolian‘s intent to foster spontaneity and individuality, but using the framework of Calendar immediately casts Somewhere Beautiful in the shadow of Egoyan‘s work. The big test for Somewhere Beautiful is whether it can transcend Egoyan‘s touchstone text.
A Partial Remake
In the Patagonian scenes, there will be a sense of déjà vu for anyone who has seen Calendar; entire scenes are reproduced almost verbatim. The primary difference is tonal: the dynamic between the tense triumvirate in Calendar unfolds in a series of barely perceptible emotional shifts, while in Somewhere Beautiful there is histrionic confrontation and emotional signposting. As much as Kodagolian maintains that ‘the storytelling became exponentially stronger the more dialogue we cut out’, harnessing a sense of ‘visual grammar’ to achieve pure cinematic expression, there are times when even less dialogue would have sufficed.
What is evident in these scenes is Kodagolian‘s technical prowess. Kodagolian distinguishes himself as a photographer; harnessing light to stunning effect, framing landscapes and human forms with a deft eye for composition which carries a semiotic charge. Alas, it remains unclear if this skill for visual shorthand can be harnessed for anything more meaningful than selling products. The film’s primary deficiency lies in the method itself; it may aid authenticity, but often at the expense of coherence. Kodagolian aims for naturalism but ends up with an alienating self-awareness. There is the feel of watching early rehearsals in which the actors have yet to fully realise their characters and lock onto generalised traits.
An Emotional Wall
The acting in Somewhere Beautiful ranges from the assured to the downright amateurish. It becomes apparent very quickly that Kodagolian is no actor. While Egoyan was required to do minimal dramatic heavy lifting in Calendar, Kodagolian has to carry half of the film, a task for which he is unequipped. It is a truism that the hardest role to portray on-screen is one’s self, and Kodagolian‘s oddly inhibited delivery and mien is proof positive of this. Kodagolian seems incapable of communicating his character’s grief at the sudden dissolution of his marriage, offering an emotional wall at which his co-stars chip away in vain.
The difference is demonstrated by the presence of accomplished actors like Pablo Cedrón and Dominique Pinon. Cedrón is a magnetic presence as the driver who slowly woos the photographer’s wife (María Alche). He commands the screen with a latent sensuality, subtly upstaging Alche and Anthony Bonaventura as the photographer. Being required to act alongside Kodagolian, Pinon‘s is the sterner task. He rises admirably to the challenge, delivering his dialogue with a conviction which underscores his standing as a seasoned pro. At times, Pinon seems to have strolled into shot from a different film.
The Verdict
Films about the creative process can be thrilling – Paterson proved this. Buried within Somewhere Beautiful is the kernel of a thesis: the solipsism of the creative mind. The photographer fails to see his relationship crumbling literally behind his back as he stares into the lens; while Kodagolian‘s character channels his energy into the next project rather than the responsibility of caring for his daughter. But rather than pursue this thematic possibility, Kodagolian ties himself in meta knots, tinkering with form at the expense of emotional resonance. With their coke parties and poolside introspection, the Los Angeles scenes come off like a cut-rate Knight of Cups in their evocation of upscale ennui.
The scene in which Kodagolian’s character discusses his upbringing is the one moment when Kodagolian doesn’t appear self-conscious, and his fictional proxy seems the most fully realised. One gets the feeling he has mined the wrong aspects of his life in constructing Somewhere Beautiful. The film’s most striking insight is the most salutary to deconstructing its failings: the photographer’s wife ends up falling for a man who embodies something that seems more authentic, a romantic notion of simplicity and purity. This sense of honouring the surface integrity of things is something that the film itself cannot quite dispel. In its search for a unifying metaphor, Somewhere Beautiful drifts between a travelogue and a show-reel, an experiment which never quite moves beyond the picturesque.
The burden of its legacy is too onerous to bear, and the whole amounts to a series of ornate scenes straining for some clarifying impulse. Somewhere Beautiful is a slight work in every regard. With a fully formed script at his disposal, Kodagolian may have the visual élan to forge a career beyond advertising, but following his impulses does not serve him well here. Somewhere Beautiful serves as a reminder of how inventive Calendar remains.
What are your thoughts on Somewhere Beautiful‘s approach to narrative?
Somewhere Beautiful was released in the US on the 21st of April.
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