April 19, 2010: Chloe
Was Atom Egoyan ever as great as we all think he was? He’s undeniably talented when it comes to the technical elements of filmmaking, and that goes a long way. But for me, he pretty consistently misfires in some way. Mind you, when I think back over the films I’ve seen – The Adjuster (1991), Exotica (1994), The Sweet Hereafter (1997), Felicia’s Journey (1999), Where the Truth Lies (2005) – I find myself thinking that I’d be quite happy to revisit any of them. But at the end of a viewing I tend to feel somehow disappointed, like he’s teasing me by going 90% of the way towards a good movie but refusing to fix one or two glaring issues to elevate it to where it should be.
With Chloe, Egoyan returns to familiar territory of sexual obsession taken to extremes and gone horribly wrong, and the premise and the casting and even the resolution (up to a point) are all fine, but instead of a clean buildup to a breaking point, it instead felt like bumper bowling as I was taken to the edge of credibility and tension several times, but then always rebounded immediately into tawdry melodrama. Canada’s golden boy director brings real style and atmosphere to Chloe, as he always does effortlessly, but he doesn’t quite bring enough weight or believability to the story.
The titular Chloe is a prostitute working in the wealthy Yorkville neighbourhood in Toronto. Julianne Moore, a gynecologist working and living in the area, suspects that her husband (Liam Neeson) is having affairs, and she hires Chloe as bait to prove whether or not her husband is fooling around when given the opportunity. This questionable scheme of course spins out of control, but not before the needs and desires of all three major characters are explored, and beneath the surface none of them are as they appear.
The individual performances are mostly solid. Amanda Seyfried as Chloe captures the right tone, but maybe doesn’t quite nail it because she wavers between being street wise and really stupid, although that might be appropriate to the young and damaged character. Neeson pretty much sleepwalks through this but that’s all that is required for his role, besides which he spent half of the shoot in mourning over the loss of his wife Natasha Richardson in a tragic skiing accident. Moore, as usual, brings far greater emotional validity to a part than it typically deserves, and while her performance is sabotaged by dialogue which is nonsensical and ridiculous at times, she can still sell it. That lady has an Oscar coming to her one of these years. The minor character of Moore and Neeson’s son was either a badly written part or played by a bad actor, which is somewhat damaging. And there isn’t really anyone else in the film.
Chloe is a love letter to Egoyan’s (and my) native Toronto, unabashedly mentioning and showing such venues as the Rivoli, the Café Diplomatico, the Windsor Arms Hotel and Allan Gardens. It is mostly set in an area which isn’t as familiar to me, since I’m not rich, but seeing recognizable streetcars and street signs is nice, and I like to see Toronto play itself instead of being a stand-in for other cities. One of the most bizarre meta-moments in my movie-watching career was when I saw a car chase in a big American movie which actually took place in the garage where our car was parked across the street, and in a couple of shots we could see the theatre in which we were sitting.
I can’t in good conscience recommend Chloe. The performances are generally good, but the dialogue is terrible, the tone is uneven, and the ending takes the easy way out with a coda which doesn’t quite ring true. Go and watch Exotica again, instead.
Egoyan flirts yet again with mastery.
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