Posted by Tony in
Movies Now Playing on June 3, 2010 |
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There’s something special about an eclipse, but like a lot of things, there’s no explanation more worthy than the experience. The idea of the perfect alignment of celestial bodies in a way that ones shadow blankets the next in darkness as they maneuver about their gravitational system inspires a sense of peace and ignites a sense of wonder. To observe the sky as these massive spheres, made of everything, precisely execute a choreography as if in some cosmic ballet allows you to put into perspective the size of it all and allows you to perceive the motions and speed at which it’s all happening.
In, The Eclipse, a film by the Irish playwright Conor McPherson, these same senses of wonder and peace are at odds against one another. It’s the seemingly straightforward story of a recently widowed wood shop teacher and father of two, Michael Farr (Ciaran Hinds) and his second go around with love. As a volunteer for the local literature festival of the small Irish community of Cobh, Michael is assigned to escort Lena, (Iben Hjejle) a supernatural fiction author, around town. They encounter a common nemesis in, Nicholas Holden, (Aidan Quinn) a pompous American author who Lena once shared a one night stand with, and who has aspirations of repeating their romantic encounter. Good love conquers bad love, new love heals old wounds, etc… oh, and Michael Farr sees dead people. Actually, he sees the ghost of his father-in-law, who isn’t quite dead, but getting close. As crazy as this twist sounds, it’s a breath of fresh air. I’ve never seen a ghost movie quite like this one. While the story’s supernatural elements play back seat to its dramatic ones, McPherson finds a way to balance the two sides in a way that neither one seems out of place, and each compliments the other.
Going back to experiencing an eclipse, it’s the way McPherson leaks information to us in The Eclipse that is most notable. For instance, we learn of the death of Michael’s wife in one of the first sequence as he and his children return home late one evening. After sending them to bed, he quietly unloads the dishwasher and the camera casually tracks across the family refrigerator where we spot a picture of Michael sitting in the hospital holding hands with his wife who is wearing a scarf around her bald head. No dialogue needed, the single snap shot is enough. The story unfolds similarly, slow and thoughtful through beautiful cinematography of the Irish coast and strong leading performances.
The eclipse metaphors are as subtle, but at the same time substantial. For instance, there are points in the film where the cinematography feels dim, (see shot pictured below). As Michael and Lena stand in a dark hallway sharing a premature goodbye we only see their silhouettes, what they don’t say, and we can’t see, we somehow are able to understand which is a testament to the quality of film making. Like those spheres of everything passing in the night, it’s not what the shadows conceal, but what they reveal.
Neil Jordan’s ONDINE begins a run at Living Room Theaters today. 
