Safe

This truly is one of the rarest commodities in the cinema pantheon; a film that conveys multiple plot angles, each as disturbing as the next, yet in a most quiet and understated fashion. Watching the WASPish, vacant, and utterly clueless Carole (played by chameleon beyond compare Julianne Moore) slowly morph from armpiece San Fernando wife to a fragile shell of a person, may not be an experience you will enjoy at first, as a close friend of mine said after viewing "There's no damn way I'd pay eight bucks for that!". Just give it a day or two, for never has there been a film (at least not until The Blair Witch came along) that has a way of seeping into your subconscious as this. That same friend, who so soundly poo-pooed it, later confided to me that the final scenes, which show what Carole had become, were haunting him at work and rest. It is an interesting study in the effectiveness of true psychologically jarring film making, where much is left to the audiences imagination - including the root of this strange affliction, the viability of these help groups, and indeed Carole's perception of all that is happening to and around her.

The soundtrack is perfect - simple eery piano over looming synth. The use of the camera is as economical as it is effective - the less shown the more we think, with broad extreme long shots used primarily in the beginning, showing that Carole doesn't seem to belong in her own home. Yet this film's greatest triumph is, for all that she has been through, and the weak diseased person she became, Carole appears to find happiness and respect for herself. Without a second thought that is the most disturbing possibility I could, or would want to, imagine. Safe may very well be a film that does not lend itself to repeated viewing. But that's fine, because it only takes one dose of this quietly sad and ghostly film to haunt you ever

This film is a remarkable exploration of the subtle yet terrifying ways in which everyday life can consume us. The standout performance from Julianne Moore as Carol White, a housewife who becomes increasingly allergic to her environment, serves as the perfect vessel to capture this eerie and disturbing sense of unease.

Moore's portrayal of Carol is a masterclass in understated acting. Throughout the film, she communicates a deep sense of fear and confusion through subtle physical gestures and inflections of her voice. One scene, in particular, where she breaks down in tears in her car, encapsulates the intensity of her performance.

The horror of the film, however, is not in jump scares or gore, but in the slow burn of Carol's deterioration. As her symptoms worsen, she becomes isolated from her family and friends, unable to find solace in her own home or the outside world. The mundanity of her suburban life becomes a metaphor for the very thing that's slowly destroying her.

The film's conclusion is ambiguous, leaving us uncertain as to whether Carol can ever truly escape from the grip of her isolation and illness. This open-endedness adds to the overall sense of unease, reinforcing the idea that we're constantly under threat from the everyday world around us.

Safe is a haunting film that terrifies through its quiet and understated approach. Julianne Moore's exceptional performance is central to this, but the masterful direction and cinematography make it a complete work of art. It's a must-see for anyone interested in exploring the ways in which modern life can corrode our mental and physical health.

I call this an important film because it deals with a very topical social issue in an original and subtle manner. It is also ambiguous (as the previous reviewer pointed out), which is something American audiences and critics often can't handle. Carol, an affluent suburban housewife played by Julianne Moore, is becoming increasingly disturbed and unable to cope with the alleged pollution and impurities in the environment. What could have been a "disease of the week" TV movie, however, is handled with surprising depth by director Todd Haynes. Carol ends up in a new agey community dedicated to healing people like herself. What is fascinating is that Safe, while exploring the pressures and toxicity of modern life, is also a brilliant look at the pathology of fleeing from life and seeking an environment of "purity." For Carol ends up, instead of recovering, more and more alienated and withdrawn. Safe does not provide answers to this dilemma, but it sure makes us look at some difficult questions.

There are some that feel that a thriller has to be a rollercoaster ride with thrills and spills every minute. This film is not that kind of thriller. SAFE is like those chilling dreams where you are being dragged through something somewhat familiar yet otherworldly and just out of reach of total comprehension. Those sort of dreams are annoying, but we all have them anyway. Some people shrug them off, some think they can explain it away by analysis, and some just like to bask in the fact that they are mysterious, heart-palpitating, and fascinating. I'm in the latter category, and such is my love for this film. This film is like a kaleidoscope where the patterns seem fixed and definable, yet are constantly changing.

There's no doubt that Todd Haynes has something to say about the toxicity of our environment, the toxicity of our relationships, the toxicity of our generic society, and even the toxicity of our venues of healing. Doctors and psychiatrists for example, are cold and sterile and seemingly wearing blinders and cotton in their ears when it comes to really seeing or listening to their patients. New Age healers on the other hand are warm and receptive and seemingly interested in seeing you, hearing you and knowing you. But they trod down the same path that religious fundamentalists do. If your faith isn't strong enough; you won't be healed. One recollects New Age ‘healers' like Louise Hay who claimed that AIDS victims had subliminal desires to hurt themselves, but could be cured with a strong dose of self-love. An especially nasty ruse, when one considers how most of society has already blamed the victim. AIDS victims shouldn't blame themselves, but they shouldn't believe that ‘enough' faith will heal them either. So we can feel for Carol White (as generic sounding a name as one could imagine!) who knows her illness to be real, but who feels guilty nonetheless because no one will let her own her illness. They don't even know she exists, really. And she, from the beginning of this film, isn't sure either.

Carol is an enigma to herself. She's like a fish in an aquarium (her house in fact, looks sort of like a dungeon set in a space-age aquarium), only she never really saw her life as such until she reached the pinnacle of success defined by society. At the opening of the film, she's ‘got it all': wealth, security, servants, ‘friends', ‘family' and health (well, for the time being). But what happens when you've reached the pinnacle of success? Just be happy going to dull social functions and decorate your proverbial palace? Carol begins to see her life –her aquarium- from outside. It's dull, blue and facile. A person who has a sense of self could try to survive in ‘the ocean' of life, but Carol isn't such a person. So it's not so unnatural that she might become so vilely inebriated by the blandness and inanity of her life that she can barely talk and ultimately, can barely breathe. One can get literally ill with an overdose of generic, stupefying life. Ever been stuck in a dentist's waiting room listening to the likes of Tony Orlando and Dawn or Linda Ronstadt? We're talking real nausea here! So imagine being a person who lives in a 24/7 world of pastel colours, pop musak, shopping, vacuous conversation with ‘friends', and being married to a man who has less charisma than a houseplant. Depression of that magnitude would leave any person raw. Carol's blues (which we can see literally in the lighting of her house and in the God-awful furniture) have broken her. Once she realized how raw she'd become, she lost all sense –emotionally and physically- in how to cope. Perhaps the reason that no one could help her was that they were all too busy enjoying the decor of their proverbial aquariums. Her husband, her friends, her doctors, even the new Age healers, LIKE the limited, appropriately fashioned, seemingly inoffensive world they've found their niche in. Gosh knows, I've thought myself nuts for not being part of the majority of the population that likes shopping malls, industrial architecture, Nike, Julia Roberts, or franchise ‘coffee houses' that serve their overpriced coffee in paper cups. I kind of understand why Carol would want to bury herself in an igloo by the end of the film. But New-Agey as it may be, there is a glimmer of hope when she stands at the mirror and chokes out `I love you' to her reflection. It's not exactly Descartes' `I think, therefore I am', but its affirmation enough that she does indeed have a face and a heart. She does indeed exist. I think that's what Todd Haynes' message to us is. SAFE is a cry for us to take a good, hard look at the world around us, to recognize its variety of poisons, and to make a stand to save it and to save ourselves.

I watched Safe for our coverage of 1980s's health movements and the AIDS virus with a special eye for the conflict between New Age healers and "the medical profession." Safe connects so well with both; although there's no real homosexuality anxieties in the film, AIDS seem the unconquerable illness penetrating the lives of happy suburban people.

First of all, Julianne Moore is absent in the film. Her character, Carol White, is a model, rich California suburban housewife. We notice how absent she is from the moment that sex with her husband produces nothing in her, but she goes through the motions of kissing him and petting him afterwards. She has mechanical conversations with friends, with mother, with cleaning lady in her ultramodern, lush, carpeted, fashionably lit house with gardens surrounding it and police patrol by night. She goes to her workouts, cleaners, and arranges furniture.

This is a really tragic film. It's also brilliantly shot, edited, acted, and its sets are so appropriate. The use of teal and sky blue becomes numbing, anesthetizing in Carol's home, as does the harsh lighting of the doctor's office and the hospital. The Wrenwood Center itself resembles where Deckard would have gone at the end of Blade Runner as the orig. end credits seemed to indicate: mountains and nature as an antidote to the city.

However, it's not URBAN life that seems to be killing Carol- it's SUBURBAN life, it's Northern California, it's fruit diets, mini-malls, 80s music playing in health clubs, housewifes, gardens, pools, teal green couches, endless lines of cars, power lines, and street lights. It's dismal, and her family life is no big help having no real life to it.

At one point, in a really wrenching scene, Carol cries, looks at Greg from the bed and asks "Where am I? Right now?" He responds flatly but tenderly, "You're in Carol and Greg's house." She only cries more.

The question is: what is really wrong with Carol White? Did she succumb to depression and make herself a psychosomatic illness? Is she really sick and dying? Is she just afraid of living? It seems to me the more that Carol is told that she is the only one with the power to cure herself, the less power she seems to have. The final monologue where she stands in front of the group and discusses how far she's come is inarticulate, random, unthought, and not a good sign.

The acting is done well for its purposes, especially by Peter Dunn, the leader. He creates an interesting portrait of a man who is so determined to be a victim that he's created people who are dependent on him. Peter is the only dynamic presence in the film, but even he wants peace, love, and tranquility in our hearts. That doesn't seem to feed Carol.

This film reminded me of Koyaanisqatsi, visions of emptiness and life out of balance. Carol looks out her car window at the highways and powerlines and headlights, and she reminded me of someone watching that film, fearing technology. Yet even retreating from technology is not an ALTERNATIVE: it's a sign of defeat, isn't it?

The film doesn't offer solutions- only one of the most frightening, eerie, and numbing indictments of suburbia and the New Age that I have ever seen. It puts its images, sets, sounds, actors into a collective vision of decay, expressed through the decline of the model suburban housewife. See it, but don't look for answers or happy endings.