The first thing you'll notice about fashion designer Tom Ford's directorial debut is that it bears none of the usual earmarks of a maiden voyage into movie-making. Faithful to the spirit of Christopher Isherwood's modern classic, this beautifully understated film is all the more powerful because of its quiet, controlled delivery. Like the novel, this probably isn't a tale that would appeal to the young. If you're looking for a roller-coaster ride or fireworks, hot sex or neatly packaged happily-ever-afters, you're not going to find them here. What you will find instead is mature, brilliantly realized art on every conceivable level.
Set in 1962, A Single Man is true to the attitudes and aesthetics of its time while managing to remain completely real and relevant today. It is a tale simply told, yet astonishingly rich in subtext. I've always believed the concept of perfection to be a myth, so I watched this film twice in succession, the second time putting it under a microscope as I searched for the telltale flaw that would support my theory. I searched in vain. There is not a single misstep in this remarkable piece. Every choice made here is absolutely, inarguably the right one.
In a more than Oscar-worthy performance, Colin Firth plays George, a middle-aged college professor who is grieving for his longtime partner, Jim (Matthew Goode). We see George dress for work and beat the hell out of a frozen loaf of bread, teach a class, share dinner, a dance, and a kiss with his best friend (the always excellent Julianne Moore), fantasize about pissing in the face of a neighbor's obnoxious child, remember his life with Jim via a series of flashbacks, skinnydip with a beautiful and persistent young student (Nicholas Hoult) and wrap up his affairs -- even to the point of buying ammo for his gun and laying out his own burial attire -- as he goes through the motions of a single day, a day that he fully intends to make his last.
"Sometimes awful things have their own kind of beauty," someone tells him. In that instant, we see what George sees, that in an odd way, that is even true of his grief. Ford's background in design is evident in the stunning visuals, and an almost subliminal vein of sensuality that has both nothing and everything to do with sexuality runs throughout the course of this piece. Deeply personal without becoming self-indulgent, smart as hell, darkly droll and ultimately ironic, this is a prime example of film-making at its finest.
Simply put, I'm undone.
Set in 1962, A Single Man is true to the attitudes and aesthetics of its time while managing to remain completely real and relevant today. It is a tale simply told, yet astonishingly rich in subtext. I've always believed the concept of perfection to be a myth, so I watched this film twice in succession, the second time putting it under a microscope as I searched for the telltale flaw that would support my theory. I searched in vain. There is not a single misstep in this remarkable piece. Every choice made here is absolutely, inarguably the right one.
In a more than Oscar-worthy performance, Colin Firth plays George, a middle-aged college professor who is grieving for his longtime partner, Jim (Matthew Goode). We see George dress for work and beat the hell out of a frozen loaf of bread, teach a class, share dinner, a dance, and a kiss with his best friend (the always excellent Julianne Moore), fantasize about pissing in the face of a neighbor's obnoxious child, remember his life with Jim via a series of flashbacks, skinnydip with a beautiful and persistent young student (Nicholas Hoult) and wrap up his affairs -- even to the point of buying ammo for his gun and laying out his own burial attire -- as he goes through the motions of a single day, a day that he fully intends to make his last.
"Sometimes awful things have their own kind of beauty," someone tells him. In that instant, we see what George sees, that in an odd way, that is even true of his grief. Ford's background in design is evident in the stunning visuals, and an almost subliminal vein of sensuality that has both nothing and everything to do with sexuality runs throughout the course of this piece. Deeply personal without becoming self-indulgent, smart as hell, darkly droll and ultimately ironic, this is a prime example of film-making at its finest.
Simply put, I'm undone.
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