Scar Trek
Peter Weir is a filmmaker that still exists in another generation. He’s the type of guy who makes the films that were present decades ago, where epic filmmaking and grand vistas filled the frame and the focus was not on detailed storytelling but rather intimate character moments. That type of genre-free filmmaking is all but gone, and while I don’t necessarily weep at its demise, it is comforting to see such filmmakers try to harken back to that old style, for better or worse. Weir and a collection of very talented people come together for a project that, unfortunately, delivers a bit more on the latter than the former.
World War II has just broken out, and Europe is being savaged by the Germans to the west and the Russians to the east. Janusz (Jim Sturgess) is a polish citizen fallen victim to trumped-up conspiracy charges and is sentenced to twenty years in Siberia. His will and determination leads to him and a small band of other prisoners to escape and eventually make a 4,000 mile journey to the north of India. Included on the trip are a crackly old American known only as Mister Smith (Ed Harris), a Russian thug (Colin Farrell), and an abandoned girl (Saorsie Ronan) who meets them during their very long walk.
Weir is a man who knows what he’s doing, and there isn’t one place where I doubt his masterful skill as a director. He knows how well to shoot such epic material, and it’s nice to see him harken back to a style that is quickly vanishing. He suffers from some pacing problems, particularly toward the end, but he crafts a portrait that knows how to be grand and intimate in the right spots. However, the screenplay by Weir and co-writer Somebody offers very little beyond the first act and has characters that simply wallow on the screen. Very little is given to characters not played by big stars, and it is to the film’s detriment. An emotional connection is hard to find in people that are quite expendable, causing much of the back half of the movie to drag on nearly to the point of unbearableness.
The ensemble is nicely fashioned, though Sturgess, a reliable actor in anything he does, is somewhat of an uncharismatic lead. He does his best to anchor the film, but as the center upon which everything else is built upon, he hardly shows enough to be taken seriously in the lead. Among the supporting players, I’m split. Harris is great, but he’d be better if he wasn’t saddled with such a subdued character whose emotional revelation didn’t feel like a forced trick at the end. I like Farrell’s charm and dedication to his role, but his hammy accent gets in the way of becoming lost in the character. Ronan barely registers in a limited role, and of the four interchangeable other escapees, only Dragos Bucor as a joker named Zoran stands out with some light humor that brings the film out of its melancholy state of mind.
In the end, this is one of those movies that you tend to respect and appreciate more than you actually like. The performances are good and the direction feels solid, particularly in a strong first act, but it never really maintains that energy all the way through, and as the story drags and the characters deflate, we’re left with gorgeous imagery that does little else to stimulate the intellect. It’s a noble effort for sure, but if Weir was intending this as a persuasive essay to bring back an old style of filmmaking, this is not one of the strongest arguments.
B-
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