Everything's underneath

Director Tom Ford's elegiac adaptation (co-written by David Scearce) of Christopher Isherwood's 1964 novel is the sort of filmmaking debut that signals the arrival of an industry-altering talent. Indeed, on the strength of A Single Man, it's difficult to conceive of the current cinematic landscape without the upstart auteur.

Ford, a massively successful fashion designer known primarily for rescuing Gucci from the brink of bankruptcy, transforms a tale consisting largely of reflective inner monologues into an evocative and verbally sparse display of the walking wounded bravely attempting to retain their dignity.

A Single Man is essentially a "day in the life" story centered on George Carlyle Falconer (Colin Firth), a gay college professor who has resolved to surrender his life after a losing battle to recover from the death of his long-term partner (Matthew Goode), who was killed in an automobile accident. Set in the '60s in a sumptuous suburban enclave of Los Angeles, the story unfolds as Falconer embarks upon what he plans to be his final day alive, with intermittent expository flashbacks explaining his previously joyful life and his moment of sudden, irrevocable loss.

Sound a touch depressing? It might have been. In the hands of a lesser director and lead actor, the tale would have been an object lesson in the adage that holds self-pity to be the most unplayable of emotions. But somehow this meditation on loss and grief is more concerned with moments of kindness, fortitude and grace, as well as the consolations of intimacy, sensuality and art.

Julianne Moore is her usual pitch-perfect self as Falconer's longtime friend and onetime lover, Charley, exhibiting all the charm and appeal at her disposal as a glamorous expat divorcée. She also shows considerable courage in revealing the indignities of aging as a formerly breathtaking beauty in a culture obsessed with looks.

The rest of Ford's largely unknown cast is well-chosen and artfully employed, but the laurels must be reserved for Firth, who revels in the role of a lifetime. It's not so much that he's perfect in the film, but rather that the film is perfect for him, serving as it does to underscore his ability to play small. He's able to convey a profound and swirling inner life with the slightest of gestures: a slight wince when informed that he won't be welcome at his lover's memorial service; a mischievous glint when politely declining advances from an attractive youth; a wistful momentary pause when appreciating the decorousness of his secretary's ensemble. The actor can and has been lost in films requiring less constrained expressions of emotion, but he shines as the rigidly appearance-conscious Englishman beset by a volatile brew of longing and despair.

If Firth is the heart and soul of the film, then Ford is its eyes and ears. His costuming, needless to say, is immaculate, but so are his settings and cinematographic choices. His aesthetic is arrestingly beautiful - not an easy thing to achieve when recreating suburban L.A. It should come as no surprise to learn that his design team is also responsible for AMC's excellent period serial Mad Men.

If the film has a serious flaw, it's the contrived resolution. Suffice it say that the story wraps up just a little too neatly for its own good, a surprising misstep considering the ingeniousness the writers displayed in adapting the novel. This isn't likely to cost Ford any admirers, however - nor should it. For a freshman effort, A Single Man is among the best in memory.

James Walling can be reached at
jwalling@praguepost.com