Tom Ford, Icon (12/02/10)

Stepping back from the world of fashion to make his debut as a feature film director, designer Tom Ford appears to have forgotten about learning curves with his assured adaptation of Christopher Isherwood’s 1964 novel. While the stylish period look of A Single Man – early 1960s upper-middle-class suburban Los Angeles – could certainly have been expected to impress given Ford’s professional background, his abilities as a director and storyteller are also worthy of commendation.

Colin Firth’s lead performance here as grieving university English professor George Falconer has already garnered deserved attention during awards season, and though she takes up far less screen time, Julianne Moore’s contribution as George’s old friend, former lover and fellow London-born expat Charley is no less impressive in its depth (in spite of her generally superficial nature). Together, they form a co-dependent pair of wounded but resilient souls in a film full of characters transfixed by love, tragedy, beauty and what could or should have been, all unable to let go and slowly being pulled under by their desires.

Unfolding in a single day, and set amidst the fallout from the Cuban missile crisis, A Single Man captures an America captivated by its own fear – fear of nuclear holocaust, fear of ‘Elvis’s hips’, fear of all that cannot be easily labeled. George seems at first to offer a stark contrast, not just in his accent, immaculate dress and composed appearance, but in his outward lack of interest in the fear parade. Appearances can of course be deceiving, as George himself admits in the film’s opening narration, and in private we find him at a fateful personal crossroads following the sudden death of his longtime partner, Jim, in a car accident eight months before.

Marching resolutely toward a final solution to his fractured existence, George spends the day collecting and arranging the paperwork of his life and meeting friends both old and new before his planned post-dinner date with a nearly ubiquitous handgun, filed into a briefcase, pulled from a drawer, laid out neatly among documents, even tucked snugly under a pillow. The effect of each interaction as the day wears on appears to have a subtle seesaw effect on George’s intentions and ultimate destiny, creating hairline cracks in his commitment to perfectly laid plans.

Accompanying our narrator and lead on what may prove to be his final trip through the alternately suffocating and heartening routines of daily life could have made for a wearying ride, but the film’s rich visual aesthetic and dry sense of humour lend real texture to the journey. However, both strengths still seem off by a degree or two as Ford’s visuals are almost distractingly beautiful, calling attention to themselves and their hyper-construction, and the humour that is so welcome when it does appear, appears so rarely.

The sumptuous camerawork and impeccable period detail are so impressed upon the audience that, like the effect of the lushly melodramatic instrumentals that ebb and swell throughout, they nearly undermine the strength of the film’s core existential crisis. In the end though, the performances – including strong turns from fellow Brits Matthew Goode and Nicholas Hoult – are such a genuine pleasure to behold, and the film’s conclusion is so satisfyingly brought about, that Ford finds just enough of a balance between the various elements to not spoil this lovingly crafted cocktail.

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