Film review: Before I Go to Sleep
In an era when horror films have forgotten how to be scary, it's no surprise to find thrillers that fail to thrill, and suspense movies that have no suspense.
Starring: Nicole Kidman, Colin Firth, Mark Strong
Director: Rowan Joffe
Category: IIB
In an era when horror films have forgotten how to be scary, it's no surprise to find thrillers that fail to thrill, and suspense movies that have no suspense.
Based on a bestselling novel by S.J. Watson about a woman with an illness that makes her forget her identity every time she wakes up, is a psychological thriller that does everything vaguely competently, yet manages to bore the viewer.
Directed by Rowan Joffe (who also wrote the screenplay), tries to build an aura of mystery around its main character's loss of identity. Nicole Kidman plays Christine, a woman whose memory is erased by sleep. Each morning when she wakes up, her husband, Ben (Colin Firth), patiently explains who he is, who she is, and what their life together consists of.
This goes on for years until a psychologist named Dr Nasch (Mark Strong) begins to treat her in secret. He has her video herself each night, and then calls every morning to tell her to watch the video.
As the sessions progress, Christine starts to doubt the stories her husband is telling her each time she awakens. Is Ben lying to her, or is she being manipulated by Dr Nasch for his own ends? Or is there an unforeseen ending that is really worth waiting for?
is a B-movie posing as a main feature. It asks its viewers to take too much at face value, although the A-list cast does an admirable job in elevating the script into some credibility. Mental illness is complex, and it may be possible for someone to lose their identity each day, and yet still get on with normal tasks such as going out of the house and making phone calls. But for the sufferer to also act as a kind of detective when they don't even know who they are is ridiculous.
Joffe at least adheres to a specific style throughout — all wintry trees, fearsome suburban interiors and anguished faces — but the film needs the panache of someone like Brian De Palma to give it some edge. This would have livened up all the droll moments, and he certainly wouldn't have forgotten that viewers go to thrillers to be thrilled, not mildly interested.
The sole point of tension is a brutal scene in which Christine is viciously beaten, and it's gratuitously violent; watching a woman get bashed in the face does not count as entertainment.
The film's epilogue is so sickly sweet, it jars with the rest of the movie. This melodramatic finale will make viewers feel ripped-off — if they haven't fallen asleep.
