Based on the novel by Patricia Highsmith, The Two Faces of January is a thriller
centred on rich con artist Chester MacFarland (Viggo Mortensen), his alluring
younger wife Colette (Kirsten Dunst) and a young stranger named Rydal (Oscar
Isaac) as they are caught up in the murder of a private investigator and their
attempts to escape justice set against the backdrop of the 19060’s
Mediterranean.
The film’s biggest strength is undoubtedly its three leads:
they are constantly kept front and centre stage, with little to no side
characters ever having to become drawn in unless absolutely necessary, which
leads to a much higher level of engagement and keeps the focus tight. Viggo
Mortensen is – as always – a magnetic screen presence, creating a perfect mix
of a man of great extravagance and charity but always with the mind-set of
‘what can I get out of this?’ Oscar Isaac is also great, his deliberately
wavering accent leading you to believe that Rydal may not be entirely truthful
when discussing his origins, lending the character a great sense of mystery.
Kirsten Dunst performs admirably, but is sadly underused and
often cast aside, though this may be a problem inherent in the source material
and not the fault of the film. In fact, the sensibility of the book seems to
have given the film both a great strength and a quite noticeable flaw. Whilst
it carries with it a great film noir sensibility – only it trades the
claustrophobia of a city for the exposed landscapes of Greece and Crete – this
also means that, in the end, it’s quite forgettable in a throwaway, pulpy sort
of way, and within a few days you probably won’t remember what exactly the plot
was.
Going back to the positive side, the film looks terrific.
Production designer Michael Carlin’s attention to period detail is most
impressive, meaning that not once did I spot someone in the background using a
mobile phone or using a car that hadn’t been designed yet, as is sometimes the
case with a film set firmly in the past. The whole production is bathed in a
very over-exposed, golden-orange light which gives a great sense of overbearing
heat and exposed paranoia, and means that when the scenes that are set at night
show up that you do actually feel cooler and safer.
There are just one or two other problems I have with the
film, the first being that it is too short. 96 minutes might sound ideal for a
throwaway pulp story, but I rather hoped the film might expand on the book, do
its own thing and give us just that little bit more. The brief running time
means that the final scenes feel awfully rushed and a little unresolved, and
initiates my second problem: the film begins with Chester and Dunst in Greece,
enjoying themselves, and within 15 minutes the incident involving the private
detective has happened yet we’ve had no real insight into their characters.
Sure they sit and chat – and smoke enormous amounts of cigarettes – over a meal
with Rydal but I didn’t really feel I knew them well enough to become invested
in their problems that quickly.
Whilst constrained by its pulp origins and cut short of
aspiring to anything greater, The Two Faces
of January is still an entertaining drama that takes it strength from
remarkable central performances, a minute eye for period detail, and a real
visual flair. It isn’t likely to make a lasting impression, but as a piece of
entertainment it’s perfectly fine.
3 stars
