Sometimes a group of talented, experienced filmmakers (say, Director Danny Boyle, Screenwriter John Hodge and D.P. Anthony Dod Mantle) come together with a group of gifted, dynamic performers (for example, Vincent Cassel, Rosario Dawson and James McAvoy) who are unafraid to bare it all physically and emotionally and create something that... just really doesn't work.
Yes indeed, "Trance" is that movie.
I was excited for this one, despite some lukewarm reviews - I love "Shallow Grave" and really enjoy Danny Boyle at his twisty and twisted best. The idea of James McAvoy as a young art-dealer caught up with criminals in the heist of a rare Goya painting is already appealing. Add in the twist that he has actually forgotten where he put it and is forced by gang boss Frank (Cassel) into hypnotherapy with a sexy, enigmatic doctor played by Rosario Dawson, and I'm ready for some mind-bending, plot-twisting, stylized fun that doesn't need to have any deeper meaning as long as it makes for a rollercoaster good time.
To be fair, the film feels like just that as it starts, with McAvoy as auctioneer Simon giving an ironic to-the-camera monologue about the history of art theft and current security procedures at the high-end galleries like Delancy's, where he works. All this is intercut with shots of how those procedures are supposed to go and how they actually work as Frank's gang kicks off the actual heist of the Goya. So far, so fun.
After Simon is captured and worked over by the gang, who have discovered that they've stolen the frame but not the painting, they realize that the crack on the head he sustained during the heist may have actually caused him amnesia and that Simon cannot remember where he stashed the loot. Lacking other options, Frank sends Simon in to see ace hypnotherapist Elizabeth (Dawson), wired for sound so the gang will hear it when he spills the beans.
Up to this point in the basic set-up I'm with it. I mean, sure, the hypnotherapy idea is one hell of a dramatic conceit, but it's one with all kinds of possibilities. And Doyle and Dod Mantle do have some fun with Simon's liminal imaginings, including a great conversation Simon has with a near-decapitated Frank and a gallery Simon walks into that contains all the world's stolen artwork.
But then the twists come and they keep coming and coming. It doesn't help that there are practically no shots in the film that look like they take place in reality - wide-angled lenses, diffusion filters and color schemes that range from good ol' teal-and-orange to expressionistic reds to a world full of lavender. It's kind of entertaining to see what the lads do with it all, and some of it's quite pretty, but when every single frame screams "It's not real! None of this is real!", it's mighty hard to feel invested in anything or anyone.
As is always the danger with this kind of twisty movie, all the reveals and reverses and fake-outs and mind-fucks quickly become exhausting and end up being ridiculous rather than thrilling or moving or even surprising. "Trance" is still worth seeing for its one-of-a-kind nutsiness and visual experimentation - and it certainly keeps moving - but it's not a film that elicits much of any emotional response. Kooky images aside, I feel like I'm starting to forget the actual film already, just like waking up from an involved, confused and strangely lavender-shaded dream.
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