A peculiar meditation on
the nature of war that feels as if it was extrapolated from some high-minded
novel, when in fact the story is an original creation by director Arturo
Ripstein and his collaborators, Foxtrot
explores the fanciful idea of a super-wealthy aristocrat fleeing civilization
during a time of impending military conflict, only to realize that the seeds of
war are buried so deeply within humankind that isolation is no protection. (Note
the film’s alternate titles, The Far Side
of Paradise and The Other Side of
Paradise.) From a sociopolitical perspective, there’s some fascinating
stuff to explore here. Unfortunately, the concepts don’t quite translate to
full-blooded drama, a problem that’s compounded by the stilted performances of the film’s three leading actors. Furthermore, even
though Foxtrot feels, looks, and
sounds like a sophisticated intellectual exercise, it suffers from an excess of
narrative contrivances, and Ripstein’s thematic ambitions often result in
pretentiousness. Accordingly, the movie is frustrating and uneven, though
basically worthwhile.
Set in the early days of World War II, the picture
concerns Count Liviu (Peter O’Toole), a European of considerable means.
Traveling by yacht along with his elegantly beautiful wife, Julia (Charlotte
Rampling), Liviu reaches a remote tropical island that he has purchased as a
refuge. Waiting on the island is Liviu’s best friend, Larsen (Max von Sydow),
who has established a camp replete with luxurious appointments and servants.
For a brief while, the group enjoys a decadent idyll, but then a boatful of
obnoxious Europeans drifts by the island, joins Liviu’s group for a dance party
that becomes an orgy, and embarks on a “hunting trip” during which every animal
on the island is pointlessly slaughtered. Once the visitors leave, additional
problems ranging from jealousy to plague endanger Liviu’s scheme.
The movie’s
narrative is consistently interesting, even though very little of it rings
true, and the technical execution of the picture is quite polished. Yet Foxtrot gets stuck in a groove because
of tone. O’Toole and Rampling both underplay their roles, incarnating
repression to a fault, while Von Sydow tries to make the dubious rhythms of his
character’s arc feel authentic. By the time Ripstein concludes the movie with a
heavy-handed juxtaposition of beauty and violence, it’s clear his literary
aspirations have gotten the best of him. Nonetheless, the picture boasts
several beguiling moments, particularly Rampling’s final scene, and it’s ultimately
a unique piece of work.
Foxtrot:
FUNKY
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