Life
(2015)
(SPOILERS) Generally
speaking, the biopic tends to be on firmer ground when it opts for a sliver of
a life, rather than attempting to cram in the full selection of signposts in scrupulously
episodic fashion. So it is with Anton Corbijn’s latest, which, being about a
photographer’s relationship with a movie star, is right up his street (with no
name). Following Dennis Stock (Robert Pattinson) and his attempts to secure a
Life magazine photoshoot with next-big-thing James Dean (Dane DeHaan), Corbijn
is confidently low key facing the legacy of one of the screen’s most iconic presences,
and fashions a picture at least as interesting as his debut, Control.
I’ve only been
lukewarm on A Most Wanted Man, the previous
of his four features, which didn’t quite come together based on less-than-stellar
Le Carré source material. Corbijn had wanted his star of that film, Philip
Seymour Hoffman, for the role of Stock’s agency editor John G Morris, but Joel
Edgerton’s supremely confident performance, slipping into the mantle of
business veteran, is a reminder of just how good he can be when avoiding
terrible period epics (Ridley Scott will do that to you).
Pattinson
is also very good, to be commended for the latest in a string of roles
attempting to banish the spectre of Edward Cullen. Stock’s a self-absorbed,
highly-strung, unsympathetic fellow, such a bad dad he manages to puke on his
son on that one occasion he spends any time with him. But his desperate awkwardness
is nevertheless palpable, seeing something in Dean he has to capture, such that
he elicits empathy in spite of himself. As Dean observes “He’s one of those guys who can’t seem to get out of his own way”.
DeHaan’s
the real reason to see Life, though.
I’ve never been remotely fascinated with Dean and, if I’m quite honest, don’t
much care for the trio of pictures he completed before his untimely death. This
may even help the viewing experience, though, as I didn’t watch expecting a
note-perfect rendition of the actor. And because DeHaan makes Dean interesting; he doesn’t have the same
pretty boy looks, so you can’t quite see the swoon-factor Dean exuded (in the
same way, Pattinson retreats into his own face and pulls out a kind of pug, thick-lidded
grimness), but he captures the voice and, most importantly, the flirtatious,
effortlessly manipulative caprice of the star. This is someone who will lead
the head of a major studio up the garden path (Ben Kingsley, doing what comes
easy and being aggressive), so it’s no wonder he takes advantage of his
curmudgeonly hanger-on.
The
contrast between the two is at its most effective when Stock, after many
attempts to secure Dean’s time (he finally gets the famous Time Square shot)
while the latter plays hard to get, heads off to Ohio with him, where the photographer
is even more of a fish-out-of-water than on his home turf. Dean is ever-quick to
take the rise out of him, and at every turn (almost, he’s hesitant speaking at
a school dance) displays an air of effortlessly hip, relaxed confidence that
bewilders Stock. “How do you make this so
easy?” the snapper asks, after blowing up at him. “What do you think is so easy, exactly?” Dean replies, cryptic to
the last, but effectively capturing the gulf in perception between the two of
them.
While
Corbijn is wholly successful in capturing a vision of the ‘50s that isn’t
remotely nostalgic, with freezing cold, bad drugs, crap movies (Dean’s amusement
when asked if he likes The Boy from
Oklahoma is infectious) and tyrannical Tinseltown chores to fulfil, he’s
less sure how to imbue the picture with portents of its star’s imminent demise.
We see the side of Dean that fills with uncomprehending emotion over the
unknown to come, but it’s a little too neat, as if Corbijn feels compelled to
find a send-off point he it isn’t wholly convinced by. When the picture sticks
to Dean’s wilfully wayward, poetic nature, contrasted with Stock’s rigid
permanence (when Dean cries, Stock can only stonily continue clicking away), it
tells us enough right there about one person living every moment of life and
another resistant to its embrace.
The
reaction to Life seems to have been
generally less than enthusiastic, and it’s certainly unlikely to reward anyone
expecting an eventful or showy rummage through Dean’s personal life (although
we do see his dalliance with Pier Angeli, a rather wonderful Allessandra
Mastronardi), but Corbyn’s meditation on the actor’s last days is commendably un-awestruck,
even to the extent that those iconic photos aren’t made out to be the result of
some kind of magic or alchemy, and rewards perseverance.
Agree? Disagree? Mildly or vehemently? Let me know in the comments below.
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