Review: Passion (2012)

Cast: Rachel McAdams, Noomi Rapace, Karoline Herfurth
Director: Brian De Palma
Country: Germany | France
Genre: Drama | Mystery | Thriller
Official Trailer: Here

Looking back at some Brian De Palma films I remember fun times with Scarface, The Untouchables, and Sisters.  Even when the films were bad, De Palma had a flair for memorable scenes and enduring images.  To this day, I still quote Tony Montana speeches from his giant drug den. I think of the iconic tension filled step scenes from The Untouchables as unforgettable. Then there’s the extremely creepy murder scene in Sisters. I would never look at Margot Kidder the same way again. There’s no denying that De Palma knows how to thrill and capture an audience even when he’s being campy.  So why does he fail so bad with his latest film?

Casting McAdams as a hungry corporate honcho is quite off, she seems too young as Christine, but she plays the role with relish.  Making the most out of some of the clichéd script, the actress is a treat to watch as she hisses out, “You have talent. I just made the best use of it.”

Passion is a remake of an Alain Corneau’s suspenseful thriller Crime D’Amour. Christine (Rachel McAdams) and Isabelle (Noomi Rapace) work at a Berlin ad agency. When Isabelle and her assistant Dani (Karoline Herfurth) make a successful commercial, Christine lauds their endeavor and then takes credit for the whole thing. This sparks a vampy power rivalry between the homely underling and her ice queen boss. As the story progresses the game play becomes darker, more perverse, and very sexually manipulative.

Casting McAdams as a hungry corporate honcho is quite off, she seems too young as Christine, but she plays the role with relish.  Making the most out of some of the clichéd script, the actress is a treat to watch as she hisses out, “You have talent. I just made the best use of it.” Rapace on the other hand, just doesn’t seem to fit in as the mousey rival character.  Maybe it’s the oversized bland suits or the fact that I associate her with stronger characters, but I just couldn’t buy her as Isabelle.

Themes of duality (masks, possible dead sisters), flawed identities (masks, alternate realities), and toxic sexual tension are De Palma trademarks yet the director has them wildly running in all sorts of directions.  About the last quarter or so of the film the camera work becomes tenebrous and laconic with wild Dutch tilts that make no sense after a somewhat steady crawl.  There are a few moments of redemption where a wonderfully crafted split screen climax showcases some classic De Palma, but it isn’t enough to redeem it. The Hitchcockian twists were absurd even if we were to see them as a self-deprecating tool by the director. De Palma pays either homage to his career (flashes of Carrie in a humiliation scene), or makes fun of himself  (adding overly dramatic camera swoops) with Passion. It’s very hard to tell if there is a statement he’s making in all of that.

As a television movie Passion might actually see a cult following one day. The set design alone is deliciously ornate and McAdams wardrobe is lavishly stylish.

As a television movie Passion might actually see a cult following one day. The set design alone is deliciously ornate and McAdams wardrobe is lavishly stylish. The Pino Donaggio score is plucked right out of an eighties celluloid thriller intensifying that old school feel to the picture. It makes me wonder if he wanted to relive the glory days of his filmmaking and, if he was, why he chose to do it this way. Crime D’Amour wasn’t a great flick to begin with, but it was properly cast and had a clever flow to it. De Palma’s signature didn’t add to the original and it’s a shame because I can see how it might have been strengthened by it. De Palma’s wandering camera and his love for gratuitous sexual games could have delighted, but instead they leave his audience discombobulated.

Rachel McAdams is the one highlight in Passion, but she isn’t enough to carry the film. As a psychological thriller, it is a promising concept, but instead it falls into mediocre territory. I wished to go back to Scarface for the first time just to see the camera pull back on a boyish looking Al Pacino as he coaxed the flying pink flamingoes, “Here pelican, pelican, pelican…”

De Palma will always have style, but if he still has passion, this film wasn’t the right vehicle for it.