Chromophobia Martha Fiennes UK 2005
Befittingly for the title, much of the sumptuous look of Chromophobia comes from icy shots devoid of colour: an art installation, an operating theatre, a squash court or the home of two of the principal characters played by Damian Lewis and Kristen Scott Thomas, typically whites and icy blues. Or more precisely small bursts of prominent colour upon a bleached background, the simmering blues of many character's eyes for instance.
Fascinatingly though tenuous (each film has a different cinematographer), Chromophobia also shares an occasional similarity with Fiennes’ previous work Onegin, where the washed out whites of nineteenth century Russia allow focus on character detail. This feel is matched with a score that does similar things around the drama, interspersing classical or rock tracks amongst the human interaction. The many prominent characters lack something in their loosely entwined lives - lost dreams of being in a rock band, paranoia, a failed career etc.
Opening with a scene deeply reminiscent of A Clockwork Orange, via music and architecture, a kaleidoscopic thread of interactions blazes a luminescent trail towards corruption and betrayal. Much of Chromophobia is as deceptively simplistic to gaze upon as a Michael Mann film - a filmmaker who similarly need beg nothing of the viewer than their eyes - these are specialised characters, heightened by the talent of the cast (Nathalie Press or Michelle Gomez in tiny supporting roles for example!). If more demanding criticism beyond the sublime look of the film is desired - perhaps the superb casting should have stuck to the restrictions of the visual palette; although the chance to see Ben Chaplin wrestling with his conscience, or Rhys Ifans and Penelope Cruz sparking, are worth it.
Martha Fiennes’ attempt to construct a London based take on the ensemble dramas of say Robert Altman or PT Anderson, runs into trouble because this isn’t an image of Britain that bares much resemblance to reality. Principally too much effort is made to make all the characters connect in arbitrary fashions, and the only poorer characters are Cruz’s troubled lap dancer and a couple of Grange Hill styled thuggish school boys. In this strangely overly interconnected hermetic little world the only apparently poor character is a foreigner (Cruz’s character) and anybody without land or assets is scheming to deprive those with (i.e. Ben Chaplin’s character, an impoverished journalist unsure whether he should betray his rich friend).
However Fiennes does present us with a visually distinctive film with a fantastic cast that doesn’t revolve around the Richard Curtis Notting Hill set. For this we are eternally thankful and somewhat baffled that this lost film has been denied UK distribution for so very long.
