Vanity Fear

A Single Man

*** out of ****

Directed by: Tom Ford

Starring: Colin Firth, Julianne Moore, Nicholas Hoult and Matthew Goode

Running time: 99 minutes

Film festivals were established to screen projects like A Single Man - strongly acted and thematically rich, with a potent ounce (or ten) of style to offset its lethargic pace.

It’s the directorial debut of fashion designer Tom Ford, successful for his turnaround of the once-inept Gucci during the late 1990s. He’s crafted a picture that, while overloaded with handsome flourishes in the art department, is intelligent, observant and exceptionally acted.

Based on Christopher Isherwood’s novel of the same name, we follow a middle-aged English professor at the dawn of the Cuban Missile Crisis. He’s the “single man” whom the title refers to, for two reasons: he’s not married, and he’s a homosexual.

His name is George Falconer (Colin Firth) and he lives in the City of Angels (fitting, since the spirit of his lover haunts him throughout).

Falconer is poignantly mourning the death of Jim, his longtime partner (portrayed in flashback by Matthew Goode). Falconer dwells on the past but is equally frightened with the perilous chance of nuclear war in the not-too-distant future.

Nearly paralyzed with grief, Falconer has distanced himself from his teaching. One of his students, Kenny (Nicholas Hoult), admires him, but has also noticed his despair. The sunny-haired, pill-popping pupil sees through the tortured soul of his professor and tries to initiate a friendship.

Moreover, Falconer confides in Charley (Julianne Moore), a boozy old flame who’s also his closest companion. She could be the subject of a companion piece titled “A Single Woman,” as she grapples with growing old and remaining alone in tumultuous times.

In the noir classic, Sunset Blvd., smarmy actress Norma Desmond recalls, “We didn’t need dialogue. We had faces.” The same line could be applied to Colin’s Firth subtle yet devastatingly powerful performance.

As a repressed homosexual in the early 1960s, Firth contains much of his performance in his face. He captures Falconer’s heavy expression and depressed verve, adding layers of brute damage to his complexion without uttering a single word.

The film may be called A Single Man, but it does not lie on just a solitary performance. Moore is equally as impressive, as the gin-drinking, anguished Charley – even with just a fraction of Firth’s screen time.

Furthermore, a riveting, thunderous score by Abel Korzeniowski and guest composer Shigeru Umebayashi, grasps the neurotic ticking-clock feeling that haunts Falconer.

Unfortunately, what offsets the film is Ford's overwhelming visual style.

Ford’s expertise in design ensures that each setting is prim, each set of clothing perfectly tailored, each gorgeous character beaming with sweltering yellow hues.

This meticulous focus on the visuals sometimes comes off as crisp, lending to a few strikingly beautiful visuals. Most of the time, however, the image on screen seems too immaculate for the grimness of A Single Man.

On a television series like Mad Men, also set circa 1960, the careful, authentic production design compliments the strong writing and performances. Here, the art direction serves as a distraction.

Ford undermines the substance of his film with style. His debut is beautiful, intoxicating and contains virtuoso performances, but the stylistic flourishes don’t ultimately work for the benefit of the powerful story and vivid characters within.