Separate Lies

Julian Fellowes, the distinguished writer of "Godsford Park", presents us with another civilized tale of self contained emotions. This time however, the ingredients are somehow at odds with each other and the strange taste that left in my palate indicates that, perhaps, it was removed from the oven a little too soon. I longed for Joseph Losey at the helm and Dirk Bogarde, Sarah Miles and Alan Bates as the protagonists. Emily Watson is always marvelous but here, she doesn't have the kind of support she, as an actress or as a character, deserved and/or needed. Tom Wilkinson, as good as he is, doesn't have the layers of a Dirk Bogarde or James Mason. He is exactly what you get and Rupert Everett, who became a star overnight with Julian Mitchell's "Another Country" has taken a strange and puzzling road. His close ups are kind of frightening. His mouth has become the center of attention and not the kind of attention one would expect. It belongs to the villain in a horror movie. I noticed that already in his comedy with Madonna. I know, perhaps, all this sounds irrelevant but it conditioned my response to "Separate Lies" I wanted to be riveted and I wasn't.

An old man is riding his bike down a village road when a car comes out of nowhere, strikes him down dead, and keeps driving. The rest of the film is spent discovering who hit him, why he was hit, and what consequences this murder will have on the rest of the village. Separate Lies is a very British movie indeed. I'm not saying that hit-and-run car accidents are a particularly British phenomenon, but the way everyone reacts to this tragedy is very British. Tom Wilkinson plays James Manning, a hard-working, respectable citizen with a "stiff-upper-lip" attitude towards tragedy. His wife Anne (Emily Watson), who is twenty years younger than her husband, is more emotional, more impulsive, and more prone to drama.

The man who really spices up life in this sleepy village is playboy millionaire William Bule, played by a deliciously devilish Rupert Everett (most American audiences will eternally remember him as Julia Roberts' gay friend who completely stole every scene in My Best Friend's Wedding). In Separate Lies, Everett is cruel, cold, and selfish, but he's an absolute blast on screen. No, it's not that exciting of a movie title (Separate Lies – how did they end up with that lame and forgettable title? Did they just not have a marketing team? Did they just now care about getting people to see this film?), but beyond the title is a heartbreaking drama about the power of forgiveness.

The successful, honest and methodic lawyer James Manning (Tom Wilkinson) works in London and is living in the country with his beloved wife Anne (Emily Watson). Anne decides to have a party at their home, and the husband of their housemaid Maggie (Linda Bassett) is hit by a car at the same time nearby her house and Maggie witnesses that a Land Rover caused the accident. James associates the scratch on the car of his acquaintance Bill Bule (Rupert Everett) with the accident, and forces him to confess and promise to go to the police on the next morning. When he arrives home, Anne tells him that she was driving the car; further, Bill is her lover. James changes his opinion and decides to support the lie, while a persistent detective is investigating the case and the list of guests.

"Separate Lies" is not a bad movie, but the behaviors and the way of life of the characters are too British, at least follow the stereotype. It is almost unbelievable the way and fair-play that James Manning accepts his situation of cuckold, no matter how much he loved his wife. Further, he lies, what would be unacceptable for his ethical standards and rules of living. Anne Manning is a real bitch, betraying a man that loves her for a crook. I cannot see this story with Italian, Brazilian or any other Latin people. In the end, the truth, the betrayal, the corruption, the moral are blurred in a hypocrite dirty lie. My vote is six.

Title (Brazil): "Mentiras Sinceras" ("Sincere Lies")

"Separate Lies" is a veddy English take on "Unfaithful" and "Crash" crossed with a Ruth Rendell mystery about guilt and responsibility.

The setting is very smoothly established of a high-powered solicitor who works in the City, has a country house and an in town apartment and has everything ordered beautifully and under control, including his wife. The surroundings completely capture the mood. A sense of portent and uneasiness is only introduced with fast flashbacks to a car accident until Emily Watson as the wife starts showing some out of place hairs and breath.

The coincidences are a bit claustrophobically theatrical so that it almost feels like a stage play. For the first half the suspense and revelations keep our attention, but then the film just ducks it all and deteriorates into relationships that are so civilized as to be devoid of emotion or reason. I haven't read the book so don't know if director/adapter Julian Fellowes changed it.

This is the best Tom Wilkinson performance since "In the Bedroom." He holds the film together. He's used so often in films to fulfill the stereotype of a self-satisfied suburban or aristocratic executive that one forgets it can be done with subtlety and verve. This may be the first film that he gets to use so many four letter words with his own accent.

Rupert Everett is so distant and even repellent to every one that it's hard to see his appeal that is critical to the plot. I kept thinking who else could have been cast for at least some magnetism. While it is amusing to see him as a Milord in casual jeans, explained disdainfully that he's been living in America so long that he's practically become an American (a line I've heard in a couple of other Brit movies lately).

While we get a frisson of background on relationships that is supposed to help, it's not enough. All the background and relationships are revealed off screen through talky explication. We certainly can't tell in terms of how people relate. We have to take revelations for their word for it. The injection of old-fashioned Movie Star's Disease makes the characters' interactions get even phonier. And then suddenly there's narration that's unnecessary and jarring. While there's flashes of some action and emotion, this is drawing room drama. That stiff upper lip just gets plain annoying.

There was probably some symbolic significance to a Paris interlude that included a rendez-vous by the Guy de Maupassant statue but if so it was a long time coming for a not worth it punch line.

There's an amusing inside joke of a character watching "Monarch of the Glen" on the TV, as Fellowes was featured in that series.

SEPARATE LIES is such an elegant, intelligent and thought provoking film and I could have watched Tom Wilkinson forever on the screen. The locations in the English countryside, the marvelous London locations, the interiors, smart wardrobes and of course, the writing and dialog made SEPARATE LIES a thrilling adventure.

With that said, and perhaps this is just an American viewpoint, as the British are so much more sophisticated in handling sexual escapades, I found it hard to watch Tom Wilkinson just stand by, as his wife goes merrily on her way in a sexual journey that really brings her very little joy, creates much despair for her husband, with the cad that is Rupert Everett. Yes, I saw the failings of Wilkinson's character-his aim for perfection, the desire for everything in its place-but in Emily Watson, she should have looked deeper into his true character and solid goodness, to realize what she has thrown away.

Tom Wilkinson makes SEPARATE LIES into a powerful film by watching him experience all the pain, embarrassment, and despair on the screen as his wife goes off with another man. And he himself makes the journey in SEPARATE LIES by understanding his faults, embracing his wife, despite all that has gone on, and leading her back to London. Bravo, Tom!