One-tone scoundrel

AUG 08 -

Robert Pattinson cannot act.

I’m aware that this statement has just earned me an instant legion of fiery-eyed, nostril-flaring haters from among Pattinson’s substantial (and largely female) fanbase. And if I had a car, I should probably expect some rage-fuelled damage to it soon—this is dangerous ground we’re treading on. But believe me, dear fangirls, it gives me no joy to rain on this particular parade, being that I too have long held hopes, along with the millions of you, of being proven wrong. As someone thrust so suddenly into the blinding limelight following the unprecedented success of the Twilight series in the last few years, Pattinson often gives the impression of being caught unawares, even intimidated by his own celebrity. Interviews reveal the actor to be a likeable fellow, possessing an awkward charm, and one has to admit that there’s been no shortage of efforts on his part to shed associations with the fanged character he is most known for, taking up an assor tment of projects since, including a contemporary drama (Remember Me) and quirky period pieces (Water for Elephants, Little Ashes). Unfortunately, as commendable as these attempts have been in concept, they haven’t matched in execution. And this year’s Bel Ami, co-directed by theatre professionals Declan Donnellan and Nick Ormerod, does nothing to break that pattern; in fact, it might actually be the worst of the lot.

An adaptation of an 1885 novel by Guy de Maupassant, Bel Ami tells the story of Georges Duroy (Pattinson), an ambitious young man looking to conquer high-society Paris of the 1890s, a period in French history referred to as the Belle Epoque, or the ‘golden age’, characterised by the transformation of the city into a playground of the prospering bourgeoisie and the nouveau riche. Penniless and talentless, the handsome Duroy, newly returned from a stint with the French army in Algeria, wants nothing more than to escape his crushing poverty and bask in the decadence he sees around him. An opportunity suddenly comes up when one night, he runs into Charles Forestier (Philip Glenister), an old army chum.

Forestier is political editor at La Vie Française, a French daily, and he invites Duroy to dine at his house, even buying him some glad rags for the occasion. This is where our (anti)hero comes into the acquaintance of three extremely influential women of the upper crust—there’s Forestier’s wife Madeleine (Uma Thurman), Virginie (Kristin Scott Thomas), married to the daily’s editor, and the vivacious young Clotilde (Christina Ricci), also married. Having been told—by none other than Madeleine herself, who helps him secure a writing job with the paper at which he is distressingly incompetent—that the way to the top in Paris is not through powerful men but their wives, Duroy soon sets out to seduce said wives, one at a time, callously manipulating each for his own advancement. It takes until the end of the film for his true nature—in all its lustful, avaricious, diabolical glory—to finally become apparent to everyone. Bott om line: A pretty face conquers all.

Old-timey aristocratic dalliances and romantic intrigues have featured prominently in films over time, and to good results—take the 1988 Dangerous Liaisons, for instance. And with its rich, brandy-tinged sets and lavish costume design, Bel Ami does look the part. But lacking in engaging human drama, and given the stiff, hit-and-miss period accents, the film tends to feel like something of an elaborate school play, the kind you’d enjoy only if your kid had a part.

Embedded in a feeble script that fails to seal personal histories, which could’ve provided some depth to characters, some insight into their motivations, everyone in Bel Ami seems to emerge from individual vacuums. Yes, we’re told that Duroy is poor, but aside from shots of his cockroach-ridden room and a few ‘passionate’ rants on the subject, his impoverished background is never explored. And attempts have been made to mark some political context regarding the French government’s erstwhile plans to invade Morocco, but the subplot has been pushed so far to the background that it hardly merits a mention.

And then there’s the acting. All three women are decent in their roles, although Thurman and Ricci occasionally appear uncomfortable, like children caught dressing up in their mother’s clothes. This has a lot to do with their leaden leading man, who puts up a passionless, mechanical performance. For a character whose descent into cruelty comprises the crux of the narrative, such an evolution is barely visible in Pattinson’s Duroy, expressions strictly confined to ‘happy’, ‘sad’ and ‘sadder’. The actor is simply not charismatic enough to portray the alluring, libidinous scoundrel he’s taken up; there is no complexity here. One can’t help but think that a marginally better performer—say, Alex Pettyfer even, for argument’s sake—could’ve made the role much more memorable.

So that’s what it all comes down to: an ill fit. For Pattinson to have played a convincing two-faced rogue, he would’ve had to have an element of deviousness in his own personality, or been a more ranged actor, but for a man who can barely dish up a credible teenage vampire, something like Bel Ami seems a tad too ambitious. That isn’t to say he doesn’t have the potential to do better; he’s certainly shown enough enthusiasm. And while his need to cash in on the soon-to-wane Twilight momentum is understandable, if Pattinson were to really distance himself from tween-stardom into the kind of serious acting that he appears

interested in, it would be advisable for him to disappear from the scene altogether for a while, work hard on his acting skills, before planning a comeback, instead of churning out repeated misfires. I’m sure the heavy-breathing hoards wouldn’t begrudge him that.

Source: http://www.ekantipur.com/2012/08/08/entertainment/one-tone-scoundrel/358441/