Proving not only that she’s seen Being John Malkovich but also that she liked it very, very much, writer-director Sophie Barthes’ debut feature attempts to ape Charlie Kaufman’s trademarked metaphysical whimsy with leaden, deadening results. Much like Zach Helm’s 2006 fiasco, Stranger Than Fiction, Cold Souls proves that Kaufman’s voice is not easily mimicked.
The invaluable Paul Giamatti stars, playing himself for no discernable reason. Struggling his way through a faltering Broadway production of Uncle Vanya, Giamatti happens upon a New Yorker article about a fledgling pseudo-scientific corporation that promises to remove your soul and keep it in cold storage so you’ll no longer have to worry about all those pesky emotions. It’s an offer the terminally depressed Giamatti can’t refuse, despite CEO David Strathairn’s lame jokes about New Jersey. (Barthes still seems to be suffering from the antiquated comic delusion popularized in the 1980s that merely mentioning the Garden State is hilarious.)
Hopes initially sour when the suddenly soulless Giamatti hams his way through Chekhov with Shatnerian horndog swagger, but Barthes tosses aside such ripe comedic conceits in favor of a dull, plodding thriller about Russian gangsters. Our poor protagonist’s soul is mislabeled as Al Pacino’s and smuggled onto the black market, where it’s sold to a soap opera actress in St. Petersburg.
There are a ton of possible metaphors bubbling under the text, and with all the soul-shuffling one wonders if the film might be attempting to address the toll taken on actors by constantly switching personas and living alternate lives for the sake of their characters. A burnt out “soul-mule” (Dina Korzun) bleeds from the nose and suffers flashbacks to lives she never lived, but like most of Barthes’ ideas, this one remains maddeningly undeveloped.
Instead, Cold Souls narrows its focus to the dreary nuts and bolts of its absurd central conceit, leading to lots of less-than-suspenseful sequences during which Giamatti and Korzun negotiate with bad guys and hijack klutzy science-fiction machinery, as Barthes’ script manufactures drama by arbitrarily throwing up logistical obstacles and then knocking them down just as easily.
It’s a dreary-looking, glacially paced collection of missed opportunities. Charlie Kaufman need not lose any sleep over it. D+
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1. Anonymous said... on Aug 26, 2009 at 09:58AM
“Our fine critic seems to have missed out on a large part of his film theory and cultural crit- giving Kaufman full claim on surrealism is absurd and insulting.
This movie is like nothing else out there, and should not be missed!”
2. Jimbolo said... on Sep 2, 2009 at 06:54AM
“Don't panic. He didn't give Kaufman a full claim on surrealism so everything is fine.”
3. northcountry1 said... on Sep 18, 2009 at 07:35PM
“Agree, agree, agree!. Dreary. They lost control of this one. The editors went out to lunch. They wasted Giamatti and he ended up wasting our time.
When will these young directors learn that they can't recycle their philosophy courses.”