If I'm going to be frank, I found the story of Amelia and Michael just a little bit on the dreary and depressing side for my liking: an affluent married couple's relationship is on the verge of collapse, the wife (Natasha Powell) sneaking off to visit her motorcycle-riding bit of rough on the side, who is in intensive care after an accident, and the husband (Anthony Head) indulging in a spot of hanky-panky with a high class escort girl. Told at an extremely leisurely pace by director Daniel Cormack, this brief insight into a private world of secrecy and lies is very low on the feel-good factor: after eleven minutes, nothing has been resolved, leaving this particular viewer feeling a tad morose.
But although this low-key character study could never be described as cheery, Cormack's keen understanding of his medium still makes this a worthwhile watch, especially for those interested in the technical aspects of film: from careful shot composition and camera placement, to precise editing, to considered use of music and subtle lighting, this is a highly accomplished piece of movie-making in almost every department.
Take the opening shot, for example, which has Cormack's characters sat at either edge of the screen with nothing much happening in the middle; at first I had this down as sloppy framing, but felt a bit of a twit once it became clear that the space between characters was not a clumsy mistake but rather a clever metaphor for how husband and wife have become emotionally detached from each other (the same trick is used as the couple get ready to go to bed). This level of visual acuity can be found throughout Amelia and Michael: the potentially sensational material—the sex and death—is dealt with sensitively using subtle suggestion rather than blatant imagery; Michael's regret is powerfully handled in a tightly edited sequence that sees him unable to sleep in the bed in which his act of infidelity took place; and muted colours reflect the monotony of the situation while a neat cyclical narrative device—the appearance of a motorcyclist—effectively conveys hopelessness.
