Unlike many acclaimed novelists, the movies have done pretty well by Patricia Highsmith. Following Alfred Hitchcock’s classic 1951 adaptation of her debut thriller Strangers on a Train, Highsmith’s most infamous anti-hero, Tom Ripley, has schemed through several high-class screen outings – Plein Soleil (1960), The American Friend (1977) and the late Anthony Minghella’s excellent The Talented Mr. Ripley (1999), the first film to truly showcase Matt Damon’s range as vulnerable, needy yet ruthless sociopath.
There’s no Ripley in The Two Faces of January, one of Highsmith’s lesser-known books, but its mug looks mighty familiar. It’s another tale of duplicitous fraudsters playing perverted mind games that result in sudden bursts of desperate violence; flashy Americans with dirty little secrets swanning round Europe’s finest locations. Glamour is forgery. Seduction is treachery. The game is always rigged but somehow never lacking for willing players.
And so we’re introduced to debonair pair Chester and Colette MacFarland (Viggo Mortensen and Kirsten Dunst), happily soaking up sunshine by the Acropolis, when they catch the eye of small-time hustler and tour guide Rydal (Oscar Isaac). As a Greek-speaking fellow American, Rydal generously offers a private tour, confident he can skim a little extra off the top from such sophisticated yet seemingly naïve tourists.
He gets way more than he bargained for. Chester’s actually a con man himself, swindling on a scale that dwarfs Rydal’s bazaar bakshish. But high stakes mean big risks; and when Chester – accidentally? – kills the US investigator who tracks him down, he and Colette must flee. Which is where a fixer like Rydal, who knows the locale, the lingo and, say, where to get new passports, can come in handy.
But why would Rydal take such a risk? Purely for the money? Or, since he’s much closer in age and temperament than her husband to the winsome Colette, is there another motivation? And what of the master-and-apprentice rivalry between the two men? Who’s really conning who?
The assured directorial debut of British screenwriter Hossein Amini (Drive), Highsmith’s novel was apparently an obsession since his university days, and it shows in the careful detail given to everything onscreen: luminous locations (Athens, Crete, Istanbul), Alberto Iglesias’ Hitchcockian/Bernard Hermann-esque score, haute couture costumes to die for. Viggo Mortensen surely wasn’t just cast because he’s a great actor; it’s because no one can rock a 1960s cream linen suit quite like him.
In a way, Amini’s choice is an ideal first-time feature: an interior, literary film (albeit one frequently played out in picture-postcard widescreen), whose twisted ménage a trois recalls his Oscar-nominated screenplay for period drama The Wings of the Dove. Yes, it’s a genre flick about stylish con artists, but Amini’s central threesome are far removed from the slick hi-jinks of, say, Ocean’s Eleven.
Those restless for fast-paced, contemporary cyber-age thrillers with shock twists and Bourne-style ADD cutting might find such low-key intimacy disappointing. But there’s also something reassuring about the languid ambience; when a fake passport takes a few days to procure, what else are you gonna do when you’re on the lam but drink, dance and explore the sights of Crete?
It’s a tricky balancing act, soaking in the atmosphere and still squeezing out suspense. Amini largely pulls it off, though there’s a tendency to milk the mythic overtones. The January/Janus (two-faced Greek God of transitions) duality of the title – hey, that’s just like Chester vs. Rydal! And labyrinth scenes in Knossos, Crete, home of Theseus and the Minotaur, ram home parallels like a charging bull. It’s all neat subtext, but rather alerts us that the text itself comes up a little short at key moments.
You can’t dispute the casting however. Dunst expertly evokes Colette’s shifting allegiances, though as with many of Highsmith’s female characters, she’s a little undone by macho, potentially homoerotic, power games. Mortensen may be best known for his dashing Lord of the Rings heroics, but his real forte is men imprisoned by their own fragile, self-constructed identities – like his David Cronenberg collaborations A History of Violence and Eastern Promises. His lack of vanity at showing Chester’s weaknesses means he’s superb again here.
Then there’s Oscar Isaac. After shining in several supporting roles (Robin Hood, Drive), his wonderful turn in Inside Llewyn Davis has made him a viable, offbeat leading man. You’re never 100% sure of Rydal’s intentions, but you’re always intrigued. It’s a rare gift and whether J.J. Abrams plans to side Isaac with the Rebels or the Empire in the new Star Wars sequels, the force is strong in this one.
The Verdict
A handsome, engrossing and classy, if not classic, throwback thriller. Not quite as complex – or ultimately cold-hearted – as author Highsmith’s Ripley tales but it’s an admirable debut for writer-director Hossein Amini with a standout cast, notably Viggo Mortensen and the talented Oscar Isaac.
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