Almost
Chloe / When a good, even occasionally brilliant filmmaker like Canada’s Atom Egoyan hits a tough patch in his career, we can but hope he will sooner than later climb out of his slump and again deliver films like Exotica and The Sweet Hereafter. Truth to tell, his latest, Chloe, adapted from a French film, finds him three-quarters back. But there are problem here, and they are to be discussed in short order. The movie doesn’t quite work. But why? Well…
Chloe is a movie with a far too predictable ending–it’s the right ending, and an inevitable one, not to be revealed here. As in most of Egoyan’s films, the beginning is a bit flat and a little long-winded; the set-up, as it is called in the film biz, is a little too conscientious, showing some things we just don’t need to know. The cast, led by Julianne Moore, in another first-rate performance, includes Liam Neeson (in an underwritten part), and lemur-eyed Amanda Seyfried (Dear John), a bit too beautiful for her role (maybe) in a difficult but honorable performance.
At his best Egoyan is able to weave imagery and sound into an almost-hypnotic experience, and that happens here, too, in Act II, after the set-up. Then Act III stumbles, becoming awkward, manipulative and a bit contrived. Too bad. In the good old days, Egoyan could have delivered all three acts. But since he hit bottom two years ago with Where the Truth Lies–with a woefully miscast Colin Firth and Kevin Bacon–Egoyan might have had a stern talk with himself. His situation is serious.
Here’s the deal: It’s Toronto, present-day. Moore is an OB/GYN with an affluent practice; her hubby (Neeson) is a high-toned music professor. They are long married and have a gifted, sexually-active teenage son. When hubby misses his birthday dinner and there is evidence he spent the time with a flirtatious female student, Moore’s neuroses congeal, and she fears that Neeson is unfaithful.
In order to ensure Neeson’s faithfulness, Moore hires a gorgeous, saucer-eyed, high-end prostitute (Seyfried) to tempt him. What happens next and next and next, we cannot say here, except that all three principals engage in a roundelay of especially dangerous proportions, one of those deals in which the truth is twisted and befouled in various ways.
And, yes, a couple of medium-graphic sex scenes ensue, and yes, there’s a good deal of skin on display, with Moore giving her all, as it were, to make sure we know that it’s really her asplash in a steamy shower and in bed with–gasp–the prostitute. How did that happen? Why? And how does this all come out?
If you’re a long-time Atom Egoyan fan, you should keep the faith and see it: he seems to be on his way back. As for others, if you’re in the mood, Chloe might just do. Our troubled married couple is affluent, and their house is huge, gorgeous and exquisite. But what does it say about a movie when the critic reserves his highest praise for a set? You must decide.
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