 |
Harrison Ford and Kelly McGillis have a cautious romance across the divide in Peter Weir's gripping thriller Witness |
Directed by Peter Weir with a real professional smoothness, Witness
is a triumph of atmosphere and mood, with an intriguing thriller at the heart
of it. Weir brings a real understanding and respect for different ways of life,
embracing the differences in the Amish way of life but also making some
striking parallels between it and our modern world. It’s that emotional maturity
and sensitivity that makes the film work: and the most impactful factor is the
heartfelt, largely unspoken romance between Book and Rachel. Weir keeps this subtle,
gentle and built on suppressed feelings and wordless moments that trusts the
audience to understand their bond and their knowledge that their different
worlds mean they can probably never be together.
Weir directs these moments with a real romantic simplicity, drawing
possibly the most heartfelt, almost boyish, performance he’s ever given from
Harrison Ford. Oscar-nominated (his only nomination), Witness is a reminder
of how well Ford does both moral outrage and pained suffering. His fury at his
corrupt colleagues betraying their badge is as visceral as his sense of fear
when he’s chased (first in a car park, then later around an Amish farm) by Danny
Glover’s heavy – we always feel worried about Ford’s safety, while also sure he
can look after himself. He also works wonderfully with Lukas Haas, Weir
focusing on his under-valued fatherly qualities as an actor.
Ford brilliantly combines his decency and world-weary sadness
(few actors manage to look more outraged but also resigned when confronted with
betrayal and villainy – and is there a more decent, homespun name than John
Book?) but Witness taps into his vulnerability more than almost any
other film. That’s not just physical vulnerability – he spends a large portion
of the film recovering from a gunshot and looks genuinely in fear of his life
in the final confrontation – but also emotionally vulnerable.
In a luscious scene he and Rachel (an equally superb
performance from Kelly McGillis) dance in a barn to What a Wonderful World
by Sam Cooke. As the two shyly and slightly hesitantly exchange looks, both
actors allow their characters to hang on the edge of making a clear romantic
gesture, but always backing away with laughs and grins. Ford has never seemed
more playful, joyfully singing along while McGillis’ emotional frankness and honesty
leads makes the scene beautifully romantic, with two people nervous about
admitting their growing feelings for each other.
This is just one of several romantic touches that really carry impact. From the moment they arrive in the Amish village, they find themselves drawn to each other. Maybe it’s the charmingly awkward way Book wears the Amish clothes that don’t fit him. Perhaps is the delighted smile and the realisation of her own loneliness in Rachel . But the feelings are unspoken but clear. Both of them are tentative about romance. Book is passionate about justice but surprisingly shy personally (as is all too clear from his bashful talk with his sister earlier). Rachel is committed to her religion, but also yearns for something emotionally beyond what that community can give her (certainly she's unthrilled by the expectation that she will marry Alexander Gudunov's Amish farmer, who courts her with a pleasant but romance free dutifulness). Interestingly she is the one more forward in what she wants than Book. For all the film is a gripping thriller, this romantic story is its heart and what gives the film its impact.
The film also works because Weir treats the Amish life so
matter-of-factly. The opening moments of the scene, in its simple rural setting
and accompanying choral-inspired score could be set hundreds of years ago. It’s
actually quite jarring when we find ourselves in busy Philadelphia: but Weir
never suggests either way of life is superior to the other. Both are
communities with their own rules, virtues and flaws. The Amish are peaceful,
but just as capable of prejudice as anyone else. But they are free of the
cruelty and violence of the modern world.
A large chunk of the film follows Book’s fish-out-of-water experiences
with the Amish, and his growing regard for them reflects the film’s own feelings.
He finds there’s a strange peace in the community – and we can see why after we’ve
seen the hard-bitten streets Book works. Ford’s real-life carpentry skills have
never been used better on film, as Book helps raise a barn (a lovely moment of
communal accomplishment). But while the peace is refreshing, he can only change
so much. Confronting abusive townspeople (“It’s not our way”/”It’s my
way”), Book strikes back. The film’s stance on Book’s smacking down of these
abusive street kids is an insight into its maturity: it’s a brief moment of
triumph, but is soured instantly by the horror of his hosts – and leads
directly into blowing Book’s cover.
But it works because it reflects how we are feeling. Having
been led to invest so heavily in a way of life it’s easy to joke about, we feel
the same as Book does: those bullies need taking down a peg or two. It fits
with Book’s character as well – the idea of corrupt, bullying cops is as
repugnant to him as drunken oaths mocking those who choose not to defend
themselves.
Weir’s film also successfully creates plenty of thriller beats.
Little Samuel’s witnessing of a murder in a train station toilet has a seedy
immediacy and sense of danger that really makes you fear for the kid’s safety
(and admire his life-saving ingenuity). There’s also rather nicely a simplicity
to the film – it’s no whodunnit, we more or less have every question answered
in the first half hour. Instead, the suspense comes from if Book can
live long enough to hand out justice and how he can possibly manage that
from an Amish village.
But Witness’s heart is the relationship between Book and Rachael, wonderfully bought to life by Ford and McGillis. Few thrillers would dare to be as soft and sensitive as this film – or have such restraint. It’s tinged throughout by the careful creation of two worlds that mutually co-exist, but never together. It’s open about the virtues and flaws of Amish life, but offers no judgement on either them or their religion, only acceptance of difference. Witness is a thriller with a heart, combining excitement with moments of heart-rending romance. Professional Hollywood working at its best.
No comments:
Post a Comment