Ireland and the IRA are far from new areas for cinema, but as of yet the peace process seems to have slipped unnoticed into the gap between history and contemporary. In many ways, then, the mixed expertise of director and documentary maestro James Marsh could prove a prefect fit for a project this close to home.
Colette (Riseborough) is a mother, daughter and IRA agent. The film opens at her childhood, with the murder of her brother. Quickly we move to what we assume is the explosive retribution on the London tube. However, as Mac (Owen), a tired MI5 operative, points out upon her capture, Colette’s actions suggest a lack of appetite. With her son as hostage, she turns British informer with her brothers as chief targets. Family dimensions, as you might expect, are constantly probed; however, as the slimy figure of Kate Fletcher (Gillian Anderson) comes to the fore, we begin to suspect further turns behind the veil.
The incredible weight on Clive Owen’s shoulders seems to cause him to crumple into his worn grey suit…
If you were to sum up the mood of SHADOW DANCER in one word, it would be ‘weary’. Men and women tired of taut lives; cities tired of a constant rift; agents desperate to stop but dragged on by hard-heads on both sides. The incredible weight on Clive Owen’s shoulders seems to cause him to crumple into his worn grey suit which, in turn, fades into the dreary Belfast scenery. You might be concerned, given this, that Marsh’s film would be a little dry and flat. However spark is created through fantastic performances. Riseborough, as ever, is utterly perfect at engaging you in the torture of her split loyalties. On the other end of the spectrum David Wilmot manages to simmer ferociously with a subdued menace.
A seasoned cinephile could quite easily be left wanting more from the first hour of SHADOW DANCER. For all the good performances there isn’t much that’s new in the content or ideas. Another gear seems constantly needed. However, it comes in abundance in the the last ten minutes, when everything falls together with a beautiful ambiguity that is well worth the wait.
You see, curiously I liked it but almost for opposite reasons. I thought it lost its way a bit in the Riseborough-Owen dynamic at the end, in all honesty.
The opening was superb, I thought. Sparse dialogue but tense and well-measured. Perfect example of the whole “Show, don’t tell” thing. There is no clunky exposition. Words in the script are exactly like those you would expect from the characters – considered and few. The tense atmosphere even comes through a little, for me, in the camerawork for Riseborough’s scenes.
It’s not perfect, but I thought the whole tone and pace of it was judged really very well.
Though I liked the film a fair deal, “another gear seems constantly needed” is a good point. Andrea Riseborough, I do believe, was created by a genetic lab be the ultimate British stoic actor. She is the English Juliette Binoche.
As my blog sought to argue, the Riseborough-Owen dynamic to which Jim refers just leads to an ending that is no sort of ending (although the film probably does not really claim one). If Colette ever wanted what she says that she wants, out of the whole thing, the sacrifice made on her behalf is actually a waste, and the person who made it gained nothing for her by it (of whatever gain that person’s actions had been to anyone down the years).
I, too, value far more being shown, but what I was shown later on did not hold together for me.