Nocturnal Animals

Dir: Tom Ford

2016

*****

I’m sure I’m not alone in hoping that Tom Ford packs away his pencil and sewing machine and concentrates solely on film making from now on. 2016’s Nocturnal Animals is a stunning adaptation of Austin Wright’s bestselling 1993 novel Tony and Susan, a celebration of art, melancholy and revenge, set within the boundaries of a fictional psychological thriller. This is neo-neo-noir film making, the bar has been raised and every thriller made hereafter had better up their game or not even bother. Ford has refined the original story for the film, getting rid of inconsequential sub-plots and unimportant characters. Personally, I think it is a vast improvement. Inspired by the concept of communicating through a work of written fiction, and so communicating something that had not been able to be communicated clearly in real life, Ford takes the film into the realms of symbolism, much of which is assessable to all and some that will keep you guessing long after the film is over.  Ford is an artist and designer, it’s pretty hard to miss in his film but more than that, he implants the film with art and artistic references to dictate the mood and tone of the scene. I’m a bit of an art fan, so for me half the fun was spotting the works – Jeff Koons’ Balloon Dog was an easy one, placed in a rather sad scene where it was as a sarcastic comment on regret and the long passing of anything that could be associated with joy. Aaron Curry’s piece was also easy to spot, although I’m still not sure of its purpose. The same goes for Alexander Calder’s mobile, although that just fits its setting well and who doesn’t want a Calder mobile in their movie? I spotted a glorious bottom, curtesy of John Currin (the film is full of ladies bottoms that sort of tie the past, present and fictional elements of the story together) and Mark Bradford’s piece, specially made for the film, is unlike a lot of signature styled piece but works perfectly for the film, spelling out exactly what it is all about, quite literally (revenge). The opening title sequence is a sort of art installation itself, which sees a group of rather obese and rather naked middle-aged ladies dressed as majorettes (hat and stick only) who wiggle provocatively at the screen. It’s like an anti-James Bond intro, that will put off a huge chunk of viewers from the beginning. Once the opening scene is over, we see the footage as a backdrop to an art exhibition, that is a cross between the work of Ron Mueck and Lucian Freud, the works ‘Dead Dad’ and ‘ Benefits Supervisor resting’ immediately springing to mind. The character responsible for the work in the film feels it is of no value and comments that it is shallow but Ford is making a comment or indeed, isn’t insulting the art – far from it, he is suggesting that art is subjective, it depends on the viewer and to a lesser extent, art is in the eye of the beholder – as is everything. As the fictional story within the main story imitates life, as does art and vice versa. The actual past, actual present and the fictional are all connected in some way, Ford depicts this with visual flare but mostly with colour (and ladies bottoms as previously pointed out). His use of emerald green is fascinating, classically it is believed, by the Chinese, Christians and Muslims, to be the colour most representative of new life, regeneration and hope. However there are a number of conflicting associations related to this colour, some of which are considerably less positive. Whilst it may often be seen as a colour of hope, in some circumstances green is also seen as a symbol of hopelessness and despair. Furthermore, under certain circumstances in traditional Greek theatre a dark green sea has menacing connotations, and similarly in Japanese theatre evil or sinister figures were often clothed in blue, one of the primary additive hues that are combined to make green. In the stylish neo-noir pulp fiction of the 40s and 50s it generally meant ‘desirable but dangerous’, the new red as it were. Again, it’s about perspective. The conclusion is beautifully ambiguous but I would argue that all of the typical theories I’ve heard so far could be true. I certainly wasn’t disappointed by the lack of closure, it suited the story perfectly. There are so many levels to the story, so many emotions at play, you’d be forgiven for not picking up on all of them in one sitting, indeed, this is a film to think about long after you’ve watched and I challenge anyone not to, whether they want to or not. I wasn’t sold on the cast immediately but I didn’t take long to change my mind, Amy Adams’ performance might just be her best yet and Jake Gyllenhaal was continually convincing. It was a shame to see so little of Michael Sheen and Armie Hammer but they are good in their supporting roles and Aaron Taylor-Johnson makes for quite the bad guy. Laura Linney has a very brief scene but the interaction between her and Amy Adams was particularly powerful, you could almost believe they were mother and daughter arguing with each other. However, it is Michael Shannon who steals the show as Detective Bobby Andes. Ford’s ability to produce a complicated concept with immaculate fluidity is outstanding. To do it with such decadence, without distracting the audience, is remarkable. The finished product is exciting but excruciating, brutal yet beautiful. It incorporates varying opinion, ideology to some degree, and the idea that one man’s success is another man’s failure. Revenge and regret are dissected and reassembled, an idea is deconstructed and complicated in equal measure, although the story is easy to follow. It’s far more assessable than I’ve probably made out, it’s extremely clever and rich in flavour, romance can be bleak and selfishness can be close to selflessness. Something for everyone then and joint ‘most beautiful’ film of 2016 along with The Neon Demon.