CHROMOPHOBIA
By DEREK ELLEY
Variety, 5/21/05
 A
fine cast scuttles around, to rapidly diminishing returns,
in London-set dramedy "Chromophobia," an over-long ensembler
set among a bunch of self-absorbed neurotics that starts as a wannabe
comedy and later expects auds to sympathize with its characters'
plight. Sophomore outing by writer-director Martha Fiennes ("Onegin")
could marginally profit from curiosity over its tony cast, but its
highest profile may turn out to be its selection as closing film
of the 58th Cannes fest, where it followed in the line of recent
duds like "De-Lovely" and "Ladies and Gentlemen..."
Pic starts out in promising fashion as it rapidly intros a raft
of characters in ironic style. An eight-year-old boy, Orlando (Clem
Tibber), watches a breast-implant video, while his mom, art dealer
Iona Aylesbury (Kristin Scott Thomas, shown above), concentrates
on her zen exercises in their post-modern, minimalist home, all
glass frontage and white walls.
Iona's husband, Marcus (Damian Lewis), is a financial lawyer who,
to his great surprise, is suddenly elevated to partner in his snooty
City firm. On the fringes of the family is Stephen Tulloch (Ralph
Fiennes, brother of helmer Martha), a pedophile art historian who's
godfather to the introverted, mixed-up Orlando.
Also in the mix is Marcus' old friend, Trent (Ben Chaplin), an investigative
journalist who's being harried for a real story by his bitch-on-wheels
boss; and, at a much lower end of the income scale, single Spanish
mom Gloria Ramirez de Arroyo (Penelope Cruz), who moonlights as
a hooker and whose case is assigned to newbie social worker Colin
(Rhys Ifans).
Cross-cutting between all these characters -- including Marcus'
dad, retired judge Edward (Ian Holm), and Marcus' rose-pruning stepmother,
Penelope (Harriet Walter) -- film seems to position itself as a
wry comedy on screwed-up achievers, with Gloria and Colin's story
in there for, uh, social balance. But it soon becomes clear that
Martha Fiennes' uninspired direction -- very different from her
sweeping, Russian-set costumer "Onegin" -- and forcedly
witty dialogue just isn't jelling consistently on any level. (In
a possible first, pic's d.p. is credited with "additional screenplay
material.")
Things turn much more serious after the halfway point as Marcus
gets drawn into illegal financial maneuvers by a high-up politico;
Trent decides to break his friend's confidence and publish the details;
Stephen's propensity for young male flesh proves his undoing; and
the sexually frustrated Iona obsesses about whether to have a boobs
job. Viewers are then expected to become emotionally involved with
them.
Aside from Scott Thomas, who has her comic moments as brittle, shopaholic
Iona, most of the cast are leveled by the script and the pic's lack
of comedic or dramatic rhythm. Ralph Fiennes tiptoes through the
role of the gay godfather; Lewis is considerably better in the first
half than second; Chaplin competently incarnates a typical movie-style
journo; and Cruz, despite performing a pole-dance in her scanties,
leaves no impression at all.
Lensing by George Tiffin is pro but no more, and Magnus Fiennes'
score fails to provide much shape or viewer involvement. Use of
Beethoven's 9th Symphony over the final reel seems more an act of
artistic desperation than anything else. Title refers to a color-changing
art installation that Iona buys to hang on her living-room wall.
A Tarak Ben Ammar presentation, in association
with Isle of Man Film, of a Rotholz Pictures production. (International
sales: Quinta Communications, Paris.) Produced by Tarak Ben Ammar,
Ron Rotholz. Executive producers, Robert Bevan, Steve Christian,
Charlie Savill, Marc Samuelson, Peter Samuelson. Directed, written
by Martha Fiennes.
With: Ben Chaplin, Penelope Cruz, Ralph
Fiennes, Ian Holm, Rhys Ifans, Damian Lewis, Kristin Scott Thomas,
Clem Tibber, Harriet Walter.
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