Breathe In

Breathe In (2013)

An exquisitely written story that belies its simple arc of a plot. On the surface this looks like a story of a married man falling for one of his students—been there done that so many times it might not survive another iteration. But here that basic hook is used to dig rather deeply into the problem of this man's life—not only why he might be tempted into a foolish affair, but why, in a weird way, it isn't (for him) foolish. The first half of this movie plays this out with finesse.

The teacher is worked to a delicate balance by Guy Pearce, an ever thoughtful actor who seems perfectly cast. He's a musician who has turned to teaching music to make a living, and he clearly appreciates art and good music, always for the poetic depth it gives him. His wife (Amy Ryan) is superficial to a perfect degree—her interest is collecting cookie jars. And their daughter is a swimming star, cheerful but not a bit deep. Neither of them gives him a bit of what he really needs.

So when a foreign exchange high school student—a budding pianist—arrives in their house, an obvious opportunity arises. And I don't mean for some fun or an emotional sidetrip, but for a revival of honest feelings for life. Felicity Jones plays this out with an expected mix of shy expectance and seductive depth.

The second half of the movie, unfortunately, lets some of the restraint and delicacy crumble, and the more it descends (or rises, if you like excess) into unlikely extremes, the more it is just a story told for its plot twists. For me that became less interesting, especially because I so much liked the subtle writing in the beginning.

The final scene brings home that the point of the movie really is about that pretense of happiness upper middle class (or upper class) families work so hard to keep. To everyone's detriment. There is a lot here to like in an ultimately compromised plot.

Every moment between stars Guy Pearce and Felicity Jones is memorable, unfortunately, even a great cast, fine performances and solid cinematography couldn't combat against a weak script.

Breathe In will suck the desire to sit through this movie right out of you early on, with irritating direction by Drake Doremus that employs repetitive, redundant symbolism shots of objects and elements of nature as if this were somehow a revelation. Instead, it's headache inducing, and drags this painful movie out even longer.

The amateurish direction is joined by a collection of characters so unlikable that you can't root for any of them.

Felicity Jones can usually melt anyone with her smile alone, and is usually fun to watch in anything she does. But even her presence can't save this disastrous film.

It appears Drake Doremus is fascinated by English-American relationships to the point of obsession. I didn't see his previous film Like Crazy as it was a little too close to home for me and I didn't wanna risk the potential dreary things it had to say. But then, maybe Doremus is just fascinated by Felicity Jones. Although I loved her in Cemetery Junction, I haven't seen any of her films since. She has a strange screen presence where she can go from charming to icy, perhaps at will. And maybe that suits this quiet and subtle film. Much like the perspective of its protagonist, a stifled artist played by Guy Pearce, Breathe In plays its first hour deliberately close to the chest with cold mundane sequences detailing the characters plain routine of life. It captures it in voyeuristic cinematography, saturating their world in dull blues and greys.

With improvised dialogue from the actors in an attempt to feel its way through the drama of the film, acting can sometimes feel natural but more often than not, it can feel awkward. It's a double-edged sword in its style of choice, one that's a risk in if it'll pay off. It's a slow build, and unfortunately one that feels like it's not setting up enough. But this is a difficult topic. Older man and younger woman relationships can often feel uncomfortable, especially when it's a challenge to get the audience to sympathise with such privileged characters in the first place. If there was one thing that could save Breathe In from averageness, it was making the core relationship sincere. And a pleasant surprise, it won me over. It taps into the human condition and reveals the emotional needs that bind us all. That connection bolsters the film significantly and makes its relatively urgent third act all the more compelling. While it can feel unnecessarily melancholic, Breathe In is a film of rewarding delicate touches if in small doses.

7/10

Unhappily married man falls for beautiful woman half his age whom he believes will free him from his imaginary prison: this plot has been done so many times, very rarely with any creativity or passion, and so Drake Doremus' latest addition to the anthology, Breathe In, doesn't inspire much excitement at first glance. But Doremus successfully sidesteps the staple clichés of the infidelity drama and has crafted an oddly delicate, taut, and surgical film that captivates and succeeds in spite of a few minor plot conveniences.

Keith Reynolds (Guy Pearce) is an ex-guitarist whose passions and hobbies have been stifled in favor of a suffocating teaching job and a quiet home life in a New York suburb with wife Megan (Amy Ryan) and daughter Lauren (Mackenzie Davis, a real find). During Lauren's senior year of high school, the family hosts pleasant but guarded exchange student Sophie (Felicity Jones), whose presence chips away at an evidently already fragile marriage and Keith's resentfully upheld responsibilities.

Doremus' breakthrough picture Like Crazy (also starring Jones) drew its fair share of detractors for its unconvincing plot developments and shockingly naive characters. He still doesn't have a complete handle on how to let plots develop organically, and Keith and Sophie are destructive and weak-willed if not naive, but Doremus is clearly growing as a writer: the bumps are less jarring, the characters more understandable. Breathe In is expertly precise and poetically delicate: sensational arguments and wild sex scenes are excluded in favor of subtle tremors in relationship dynamics and a tentative, genuine mental connection between the two leads. A plot line that lends itself easily to melodrama is instead executed with restraint and grace: Keith and Sophie don't even kiss until over an hour into the film and instead grow closer through fleeting glances, shared passions, mutual desires to break free, and support and curiosity that neither have received from another person in a very long time. Refreshingly, for once, it's not at all about sex - it is sensual, but the leads connect on a profound, intimate level rather than a physical one and, strangely enough, there are times when you can't help but want them to be together.

Pearce gives his best performance in years here as vulnerable and secretly needy Keith; he perfectly captures the crushing regret and childish idealism of a midlife crisis, and his slow unraveling at Sophie's touch is beautiful to watch. Jones, for the third year in a row, deserves some serious attention for her work here - Sophie is a stereotypical faux-intellectual, confident she sees all and knows all, and Jones retains that adolescent conceit while imbuing her with a deep, affecting loneliness and pain and a quiet but steely veneer masking it from the world. It's less showy, but more intricate and adult than her work in Like Crazy. Mackenzie Davis' first major movie role is pretty demanding and full of pitfalls, yet she creates the most sympathetic character in the film. Amy Ryan unfortunately isn't given much to do, and occasionally her character feels uncomfortable villainized, but she gives Jones a look at the end of the film that says much more than a 10- minute screaming scene ever could and confirms that she is one of the most insightful and communicative actresses around. There's not much dialogue in the film, and most of it is layered with subtext rather than explicitly revealing, so a great deal of responsibility falls on the cast's shoulders, and they more than carry their weight.

Critics of Like Crazy probably won't be won over by Breathe In as in terms of direction, style and writing it follows many of the same formulas - a simple piano score, natural and unaffected cinematography, many close-ups and scenes where nothing at all is communicated verbally. The characters are less likable this time, and while they are more fleshed out and therefore easier to relate to, it's difficult to find someone to root for. But Doremus is maturing: there's less reliance on plot contrivances to move the story along, and instead he lets the tiny fissures, the soundless sensuality, and the growing tension drive the film to its explosive and agonizing finale. There is some great character- and dynamic-building here, and once Doremus has a better grasp of storytelling, he will really be a force to be reckoned with.