A title like The Escape probably brings to mind grand adventures and heart-pounding schemes, the kind of straightforward stories where you know precisely who you’re rooting for and where you want them to end up. I pity the person who walks into this film expecting that kind of story, because what they’re about to get is something far more amorphous and disturbing.
The escapee in this film is Tara (Gemma Arterton), whose only ball and chain is a successful modern life. A house, husband, and kids, all seemingly pristine and sweet, are somehow suffocating her. Society has made a lot of progress when it comes to breaking down gender roles, but for a woman to be so upset by her own family is still taboo. She doesn’t quite understand it and neither does the audience, but what’s clear is that the status quo isn’t tenable.
And so the audience is launched into an unsettling character study, one that takes its time getting its claws into you but ultimately delivers an intense ride.
Lean On Arterton
This is a film that is myopically focused on its beleaguered protagonist, meaning that it lives and dies based on Arterton’s performance. She’s likely not a person you would immediately think of to carry a film, especially since her breakthrough as a Bond girl in Quantum of Solace caused the usual lost years of empty roles. Or maybe you’ve noticed her shift to more quality projects like Byzantium, Gemma Bovery, and Their Finest, all of which hint at a talent that’s barely been revealed.
Whether you’ve been clued in to her underused value or not, The Escape will serve as a calling card you can’t ignore. She takes Tara, a character riddled with depression and pent-up frustration, and lets the tiniest moments define her.
The design of Tara is not one that allows for many outbursts or grand statements, so she must communicate through deadened eyes and limp hands. It’s these things that get under your skin as a viewer, building a sense of ennui through the early portions of the film that transforms into a crippling malaise. “I’m not happy” she says at a pivotal moment, and we know the depth of that statement because of how Arterton lets desperation creep into her face.
Unfortunately, this fine performance is occasionally undercut by the film’s cinematography, which falls into the trap of letting faces fill the frame instead of showing the actors’ entire bodies. It’s a common problem in modern filmmaking, one that leaves much of the way people communicate frustratingly out of frame. The tight view may have also led writer/director Dominic Savage to lean on tears instead of more subtle signals of unhappiness, and these overwrought touches threaten to push the film into a melodramatic area that feels entirely forced.
It’s as if Savage and company didn’t realize what they had in Arterton while filming, capturing only fleeting glances of the things she’s doing with her posture instead of letting this full-bodied performance shine. She produced a fully realized character, but the filmmakers chose to cut her off at the shoulders.
Sustaining A Frayed Nerve
While Arterton’s performance may not have been fully captured, the filmmakers do prove adept at capturing a mood. It’s a nice little trick they pull off, actually, where the audience is slid into the ragged energy of Tara.
At first it seems that the filmmakers are just starkly observing her, laying the character bare without much fancy interference. Then the maddening dullness takes hold, the hair-trigger annoyance, and the weight of a life devoid of happiness. It’s an unpleasant headspace to be in, but it will be a sensation familiar to those who have struggled with mood disorders.
It’s quite an accomplishment to simply capture this feeling, but it’s when the film shifts to Tara fighting against it that the payoff really comes. This taste of what her life is makes you root vehemently for an escape, and as she stumbles towards possible reprieves, bits of hope feel ecstatic and failures bring devastation. Despite its early coolness, this becomes a film that’s almost harrowing, even when the safety nets that Tara clings to are as small as a book of artwork.
Navigating Controversial Solutions
The audience may understand Tara’s situation quite thoroughly, but that doesn’t change the fact that there’s no easy solution in sight. She has a committed husband and dependent kids, which comes with certain responsibilities most people would frown upon shirking. The film works hard, perhaps too hard, to keep you on Tara’s side as she tests her options.
Her husband played by Dominic Cooper is the biggest casualty of this overt sympathy play, coming off as little more than a self-absorbed oaf. It’s not that he’s awful to her, just inattentive and exasperated, and it’s abundantly clear from the start that she will get no help from him. It’s a character that lacks an ounce of nuance, and in a film so attune to details, his flatness stands out.
The only redeeming factor of this setup is that it allows Tara to push for freedom in surprising ways. With no one to guide or support her she takes some questionable actions, ones that might cause some audience members to turn on her. It’s refreshing that the filmmakers don’t want you to judge her harshly for these decisions, but it would be even better if they had trusted the audience to derive sympathy more from her emotions than from her entrapment.
The Escape: A Mixed But Thrilling Bag
The Escape set a difficult task for itself, putting the audience in the shoes of a woman struggling to find happiness when it’s seemingly right in front of her. It doesn’t always craft the most nuanced world, but Arterton keeps the audience attune to Tara’s increasing desperation. In the end, that is what makes the film a riveting watch, even without an insurmountable trap ensnaring her.
Do you think Gemma Arterton successfully carried this film? Have you been impressed by her in the past? Let us know in the comments below!
The Escape was released in the US on May 11, 2018 and will be released in the UK on August 3, 2018. For all international release dates, see here.
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