A Single Man
Directed and Written by Tom Ford
Artina Films, 2009, 99 mins.
R for gay themes and partial nudity
* * * * *
If you planned to end it all, how would you spend your last day? That’s the simple premise of A Single Man, though there’s nothing simplistic about how the film’s protagonist, George Falconer (Colin Firth), approaches what he hopes will be his swan song to life.
If your take on being gay in America is Tom Hanks in Philadelphia, A Single Man may be too sensual and too multifaceted for your taste. If, on the other hand, you want to get a sense of life in the closet in the days before Stonewall and Harvey Milk, A Single Man is a fine starting point. It’s November, 1962—just a month after the Cuban Missile Crisis—and George Falconer is a respected English professor at a university somewhere in Los Angeles. Outwardly George has a lot going for him. He drives a flashy car, lives in a book-filled but meticulously clean architect-designed house, and is considered brilliant by his colleagues. Sure he’s a tad eccentric, as befits an Englishman in California, but most think he's as serious as the tailored suits, dry-cleaned white shirts, and heavy black-framed glasses that are his daily uniform.
Very few know that George is gay. It’s a secret known only to intimates, such as his longtime friend and former lover, Charlotte, though immediate neighbors have their suspicions. Charlotte—known affectionately as Charley—is deliciously played as a boozy floozy by Julianne Moore. She is a fellow Londoner who made her way to California via a bad marriage and now wastes her days amidst an empty upscale house and drained gin bottles. Moore has a smallish part, but she’s fabulous in it. She’s a woman on the verge in heavy eye shadow slathered on in a losing battle to mask aging. Physically she walks a wobbly line between desirable and past-its-sell-by-date. She makes no secret of the fact that she’s more than willing to fill George’s void.
And what a void it is. His lover of sixteen years, Jim, was killed in a car crash eight months earlier and George has been in a sleepwalker’s daze ever since. He’s deeply pained and totally drained. As he contemplates his future without Jim, all he can conjure is the past. He’s like the clueless students to whom he vainly tries to teach an Aldous Huxley novel--only tangentially in the moment. So why go on?
There are parallels to A Christmas Carol as George wends his way through what might be his last day on earth. He’s haunted by several ghosts of his past (Charley and vivid memories of Jim), considers a present liaison in the form of a handsome Spanish-speaker—an echo of the missile crisis?—and even contemplates whether there might be a future in hooking up with Kenny Potter (Nicholas Hoult), a blue-eyed student who seems to be flirting with him. No spoilers here—see the film to see how this resolves.
A few things to look for: First of all, there is Tom Ford’s very sharp direction. He enhances George’s numbness by shooting each sequence as if it’s that semi-conscious moment between dreaming and full awakening. He extends it to all aspects of the film, including insightful pan shots of students who seem to be waiting for something—anything—to happen. Kenny’s (perhaps) girlfriend, the blank-faced Alva (Paulette Lamori), is walking ennui, a faux beatnik in a world that scarcely remembers the Beats. Even the terror of Cuba is receding.
All of the performances are worthy of watching closely. Moore and Firth have deservedly won awards at several film festivals. Firth is magnificent and does a turn that’s the equivalent of a frog in a pan of water being slowly heated. There are no histrionics to get in the way of pathos, and no out-of-character moments of blinding revelation to dissolve into triteness. Nor is he afraid to play gay; unlike mainstream studio productions, the men in this film do kiss—passionately—and seductions look like seductions.
Finally, check out this movie as a time capsule. Ford mostly gets 1962 right. It’s easy to forget that the 1960s don’t really get cranked up until after Kennedy’s assassination in 1963; the early '60s were a liminal moment in which it was clear that one set of standards was passing, but no one had much of a handle on what was coming next. This was especially the case for gay men. To put in perspective, Smith College dismissed three gay profs in 1960, and the American Psychiatric Association still classified homosexuality as a mental illness. The George Falconers of the world could have only dreamed of Stonewall. But don’t take my word for it; try the eponymous Christopher Isherwood novel upon which this film’s script is based. Isherwood’s own life as a gay man has been chronicled in Chris & Don: A Love Story. If you’ve not seen that independent gem, rent it after seeing A Single Man.
Directed and Written by Tom Ford
Artina Films, 2009, 99 mins.
R for gay themes and partial nudity
* * * * *
If you planned to end it all, how would you spend your last day? That’s the simple premise of A Single Man, though there’s nothing simplistic about how the film’s protagonist, George Falconer (Colin Firth), approaches what he hopes will be his swan song to life.
If your take on being gay in America is Tom Hanks in Philadelphia, A Single Man may be too sensual and too multifaceted for your taste. If, on the other hand, you want to get a sense of life in the closet in the days before Stonewall and Harvey Milk, A Single Man is a fine starting point. It’s November, 1962—just a month after the Cuban Missile Crisis—and George Falconer is a respected English professor at a university somewhere in Los Angeles. Outwardly George has a lot going for him. He drives a flashy car, lives in a book-filled but meticulously clean architect-designed house, and is considered brilliant by his colleagues. Sure he’s a tad eccentric, as befits an Englishman in California, but most think he's as serious as the tailored suits, dry-cleaned white shirts, and heavy black-framed glasses that are his daily uniform.
Very few know that George is gay. It’s a secret known only to intimates, such as his longtime friend and former lover, Charlotte, though immediate neighbors have their suspicions. Charlotte—known affectionately as Charley—is deliciously played as a boozy floozy by Julianne Moore. She is a fellow Londoner who made her way to California via a bad marriage and now wastes her days amidst an empty upscale house and drained gin bottles. Moore has a smallish part, but she’s fabulous in it. She’s a woman on the verge in heavy eye shadow slathered on in a losing battle to mask aging. Physically she walks a wobbly line between desirable and past-its-sell-by-date. She makes no secret of the fact that she’s more than willing to fill George’s void.
And what a void it is. His lover of sixteen years, Jim, was killed in a car crash eight months earlier and George has been in a sleepwalker’s daze ever since. He’s deeply pained and totally drained. As he contemplates his future without Jim, all he can conjure is the past. He’s like the clueless students to whom he vainly tries to teach an Aldous Huxley novel--only tangentially in the moment. So why go on?
There are parallels to A Christmas Carol as George wends his way through what might be his last day on earth. He’s haunted by several ghosts of his past (Charley and vivid memories of Jim), considers a present liaison in the form of a handsome Spanish-speaker—an echo of the missile crisis?—and even contemplates whether there might be a future in hooking up with Kenny Potter (Nicholas Hoult), a blue-eyed student who seems to be flirting with him. No spoilers here—see the film to see how this resolves.
A few things to look for: First of all, there is Tom Ford’s very sharp direction. He enhances George’s numbness by shooting each sequence as if it’s that semi-conscious moment between dreaming and full awakening. He extends it to all aspects of the film, including insightful pan shots of students who seem to be waiting for something—anything—to happen. Kenny’s (perhaps) girlfriend, the blank-faced Alva (Paulette Lamori), is walking ennui, a faux beatnik in a world that scarcely remembers the Beats. Even the terror of Cuba is receding.
All of the performances are worthy of watching closely. Moore and Firth have deservedly won awards at several film festivals. Firth is magnificent and does a turn that’s the equivalent of a frog in a pan of water being slowly heated. There are no histrionics to get in the way of pathos, and no out-of-character moments of blinding revelation to dissolve into triteness. Nor is he afraid to play gay; unlike mainstream studio productions, the men in this film do kiss—passionately—and seductions look like seductions.
Finally, check out this movie as a time capsule. Ford mostly gets 1962 right. It’s easy to forget that the 1960s don’t really get cranked up until after Kennedy’s assassination in 1963; the early '60s were a liminal moment in which it was clear that one set of standards was passing, but no one had much of a handle on what was coming next. This was especially the case for gay men. To put in perspective, Smith College dismissed three gay profs in 1960, and the American Psychiatric Association still classified homosexuality as a mental illness. The George Falconers of the world could have only dreamed of Stonewall. But don’t take my word for it; try the eponymous Christopher Isherwood novel upon which this film’s script is based. Isherwood’s own life as a gay man has been chronicled in Chris & Don: A Love Story. If you’ve not seen that independent gem, rent it after seeing A Single Man.
PS--Don't confuse this film with the Coen brothers' boring A Simple Man.
Thank you. What a wonderful blog! I'm one of those who's tired of the mainstream (although sometimes it's fun). I came to you via Joy Kills Sorrow. And I'm so happy to see you also review movies. I loved this movie, and you described it so well. I'm from that era, but came of age luckily on the latter side of the 60s. Still I remember pre-1963 very well.
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