Innocent Lies

....as Visconti showed it in a work such as "la cadeti dei degli" (1969) demands much more than "Innocent lies" 's director can do.Outside the brother and the sister ,and the cop (who is humming twice bribes of the old Irish tune "Carrickfergus" ;the connection with the movie escapes me,I am afraid),the other characters are only silhouettes and you have a feeling that some essential scenes are lacking ,for this a relatively short movie all the same (barely 90 min).Some subplots ,such as the first cop's investigation and suicide are only skimmed over.Ditto for the Jewish wife's scene.As for the incestuous sister's unfortunate fiancé ,he has two or three lines to say and that's it.

The users were harsh when they rated the movie and I can sadly find little fault with that.

Very good movie even though a bit complicated to follow when seen for the first time. It is one of those movies you need to see at least twice to fully appreciate it. The principal actors, first of all Gabrielle Anwar, and Stephen Dorff, are outstanding. Noteworthy is also Patrick Blossier´= s excellent photography.

Having said that I still think with this highly imaginative and original story at his hands Patrick Dewulf could have done more, simply by concentrating on the main characters. There are too many subplots there that are rather superfluous in that they do not contribute to the main story which is intense enough and need not be pepped up.

But still: An excellent movie! I highly recommend it.

The cinematography of this film was brilliant, choice of location plus the genius of the camera work kept me enthralled with a shallow and convoluted plot that took red herring to waters it had never been to before. The little hamlet and eccentric interiors made an impossible film watchable, enjoyable even. The premise of the plot was the suicide or murder concept of the hero regarding the best friend and introduced in the first scenes. The rest of the movie was interwoven and seemingly totally disconnected scenes of incest or gratuitous pants dropping or bums in the buff. There were some of the scenes that served no purpose other than to expose an actor's body to the camera or tight shots of Adrian Dunbar's nose. It was as if the editors tossed the dailies up in the air and pasted them together quickly based on aesthetics rather than plot advancement. I think there was a plot at one time in the manuscript but it was discarded and the film became a series of patchwork scenes lacking cohesion. I was glad it was over though it was not easy to tell when that was going to happen because it could have been anywhere along the line. It was not a great film, a dozen yrs old and so aggravating it inspired me to take more time on it and write a 'review' on a pretty bad movie.

Is it a war movie? Is it film noir? Is it cheap titillation? A deep exploration of complex and controversial relationships? This film cannot decide what it is and so, as another person noted, must require several viewings in order to make sense. Sadly, it is just not compelling enough to warrant multiple viewings - unlike other films that ARE rich with complex themes and artistic vision.

The actors valiantly try to overcome the morass that is the script - but were probably as annoyed as the rest of us at the myriad loose threads that never tie up.

Adrian Dunbar portrays the frustration of someone tempted and confused by things around him - he must be the avatar for the viewer. Stephen Dorff offers another workmanlike portrayal of your friendly neighborhood rebel without a clue. Gabrielle Anwar, who is usually a fine actor, is stuck with a character whose neuroses become tedious and irritating by the end of the film. Joanna Lumley escapes caricature by a false eyelash and looks luminous in the period fashions. The rest of the cast are superfluous at best and annoying distractions at worst, doing nothing to advance the story. They and the plot lines that involve them do not even qualify as decent red herrings.

The cinematography is lovely - very atmospheric and evocative of the era - as are the costumes and staging.

Unfortunately, Dewolf's grasp at Art exceeded his reach and no amount of plot devices can make this murky movie anything more than a mild diversion. Perhaps the fault lies with the editing - which would explain the subplots that disappear and other senseless oddities. A tighter script, a focused plot, and less cheap titillation would have permitted this talented cast to fully engage the viewer in a riveting mystery flick.

I believe Towards Zero to be one of Christie's best and when I read there was an adaptation that her usually quite tolerant estate had declined any involvement with (an extremely rare occurrence to the chagrin of some Christie purists), I went out to search for it.

The setting is both beautiful and poignant. An Art Deco Villa on a clifftop in 1938 France, undercurrents of the coming war rippling even through the lives of the well-off family at the centre of the story.

British detective Adrian Dunbar, along with his small daughter, visits to bury his old friend, a fellow cop, who apparently and very suddenly has committed suicide. It appears said cop came to investigate the death of a young member of the aptly named Graves family many years ago and never left. What his relationship with the Graves' exactly entailed we never find out (the matriarch insists they had an affair, but her word is as good as anyone else's in this movie, which is no good at all). I guess it would count as a spoiler if there was anything to spoil, that we also never find out what happened to him.

Two things are quite clear from the start. The slimy Oxford student son Jeremy is the most likely suspect and his relationship with his sister is not sisterly in the least. Again, no surprises will reveal themselves on either account.

The hard boiled detective naturally falls immediately under the spell of the beautiful daughter Celia and risks his career to help her escape - from what exactly, not even she herself seems to know. Numerous other storylines are woven (and mostly dropped without any resolution). Various females are upset with the detective, but since they won't tell him why, the film also doesn't care any longer. Motives of anyone are foggy at best and often change from scene to scene. Some sequences are almost Lynchian in their absurdity and their lack of any connection to the plot, but feel much more accidental. The most consistent part is the camera following around young Celia to expose her body from every angle possible.

The ending scene wakes memories rather more of Dial M for Murder than Towards Zero, but I doubt either would like to be associated with this film. In fact, despite some effort, I could find no traces of the intricate plot Christie had woven for Towards Zero. No perfect alibi, no sinister end goal, no double bluff. Instead we get to see Gabrille Anwar's breasts under a variety of semi-translucent fabrics. I guess that counts for something.