It is not uncommon in middle-brow novels to introduce a character who has “seen things” in the first World War. There is an emotional shorthand at work here that applies less frequently with combatants from the second World War (more cleanly “heroic”) or the Vietnam War (whose veterans are more likely to talk openly about trauma).
The damaged warrior from the trenches – prone to occasional long stares through rain-splattered windows – needs no further motivation to do whatever he does. His silence conceals interlocking multitudes of justifications.
Michael Fassbender is saddled with an archetypal example in this sumptuous, baffling, mildly diverting adaptation of ML Stedman’s high-end airport novel.
We begin with Tom Sherbourne (Fassbender) taking a temporary job as a lighthouse keeper in some rocky outcrop of the Commonwealth. Because he has “seen things” in the first World War, he takes to the solitude and secures the job on a permanent basis.
Soon, he runs up against local girl Isabel Graysmark (Alicia Vikander) and, after much nervous shuffling of feet, they descend into apparent wedded bliss.
Allow your attention to wander in the opening sequences and you could be forgiven for losing all sense of location. Neither lead attempts much of an accent. The maritime officials all sound vaguely English. Up to the point at which Waltzing Matilda is sung, I would have staked a small sum that we were off the coast of Canada. We are, of course, in and around Western Australia (where the Indian Ocean meets the Southern Ocean. Duh!).
There is more motivation to come. Isabel is desperate for a baby and, following two miscarriages, she finds herself fighting with a desperate depression.
One day, a terrible miracle comes to pass. A rowboat washes up with a dead man and a crying baby inside. Because Isabel is still grieving and Tom has “seen things” in the first World War, they kick aside all logic and decide to pretend the baby is their own.
Galloping improbabilities
If the film worked harder to nudge itself into the realm of fable, then the galloping improbabilities would be easier to take. It seems that the missing child belonged to Hannah, a woman from the town where Isabel grew up. Yet nobody seems aware of her plight until after the baby’s christening.
Rachel Weisz has a thankless task as Hannah. Her tragedy is greater than anybody’s but, focusing on the great romance between Tom and Isabel, the film cannot help but treat her as an inconvenient impediment. Our natural urge is to side with the lovely people rendered morally impotent by their conspicuous motivations.
Fassbender and Vikander (now a couple in real life) throw themselves at the parts with irresistible enthusiasm. As the story progresses, they get to address inner traumas through markedly contrasting approaches. Vikander’s initial shyness gives way to a wholly convincing desperation as justice inevitably catches up with them. Fassbender, who has the facial furrows we would expect from a lighthouse keeper, remains a master of emotional leakage: the turmoil sneaks out through inclined eyebrows and twitches at the mouth.
Nobody behaves like this outside Grimm fairy stories. But Derek Cianfrance, director of Blue Valentine and The Place Beyond the Pines, brings a different class of fantasy to the visuals. The body of the film looks to be taking place in Vanity Fair's annual lighthouse keeper's edition. Every boot, pencil, glove and belt seems artfully distressed for sale in a Tribeca boutique. Adam Arkapaw's photography catches the beauty of the surroundings without suggesting any concomitant menace.
The result is easy enough to sit through. It features an epilogue that would cause a horse to shed tears. Everyone involved is easy on the eye and gentle on the ears. Sadly, it leaves not a trace on the psyche as it passes by.
