[wpdevart_youtube]JsNBLkO2Itg[/wpdevart_youtube]
Out of Blue
***
Dir: Carol Morley
Starring: Patricia Clarkson, James Caan, Toby Jones, Jacki Weaver
(USA, 15, 1hr 49mins)
Adapted from a largely ignored 1997 Martin Amis novel, Night Train, Carol Morley’s new film, Out of Blue is an elegant, enigmatic, ice-cool film – the kind of cerebral cop film that is resolutely embedded in the history of the noir genre whilst spinning out into its own world. If there is such a subgenre of noir that can be entitled ‘philosophical detective’ – alongside which file Chinatown, Humphrey Bogart’s oeuvre and latter-day incarnations like True Detective – then this is most certainly a fine entry into it.
Patricia Clarkson stars as Detective Mike Hoolihan, a long-standing member of the New Orleans PD, assigned to solve the apparent murder of the bright young astrophysicist Jennifer Rockwell (Mamie Gummer). Along the way, suspicions fall on Rockwell’s colleague, Prof. Ian Strammi (Toby Jones), boyfriend (Jonathan Majors) and her exceedingly rich family, specifically the mother and father (James Caan and Jacki Weaver). But, as so often in these types of films, it’s not really about the case – which gets solved quite quickly. It’s about the characters, and what the world means for them.
Hoolihan, a recovering alcoholic who claims to be unable to remember any details from her upbringing or teenage years, becomes mired in the innumerable infinite possibilities of the physics that the victim practiced – alternate universes, chaos theory, Schrödinger’s Cat. The infinite unending possibilities leads her to question the outcome of the case, and she gradually goes off the rails. There’s a distinctly Lynchian, Blue Velvet vibe here, with dead-ends and cul-de-sacs aplenty, and even a musical scene where the victim sings to a 50’s pop song. Whilst some might take the film’s philosophical themes dead-seriously (and weigh down the film with pretentiousness), I think Morley’s being more playful here; there’s a fine balancing act between the hard-bitten noir elements and a gentle touch on her part as the director. Sometimes, it’s as if the characters are fully aware of the futility of their philosophical ramblings. Not much is clearly tied up in a ribbon here, and it suits the film’s jazzy, woozy mood, with the New Orleans humidity wrapping itself around the various characters.
Patricia Clarkson, it must be said, is absolutely brilliant. The role of the grizzled older detective who’s seen it all normally almost always goes to a growly male, a la Clint Eastwood, but she completely subsumes herself into the role. She thrives on charisma and the camera’s glare. Where the film’s weighty themes could collapse under a more showy performance, her relaxed-ness makes it a pleasure to spend time with. Additionally, the score by Clint Mansell is superb, giving the film’s earthy visuals a cosmic flavour. There a few strange directorial choices elsewhere – licensed music is occasionally placed in very strange spots without rhyme nor reason. But otherwise, this is a confident and smart film, well worth getting your eyeballs on.
words Fedor Tot