Review: A Single Man

A Single Man not only features a superb performance from Colin Firth, but also highlights Tom Ford as a director of some considerable potential. This tale of a gay British teacher, George Falconer, long-exiled in LA in 1962 and how he handles his grief over the death of his lover is a work of exquisite precision.

Firth’s titular hero could so easily have been a stiff upper lip miserablist, and yet Firth and Ford allow him so much depth and scope; we see Falconer as a man, teacher, friend, lover, and recovering widower. Firth underplays the character, showing a lightness of touch and a real warmth so often absent in his and other English actors’ performances. Particularly noteworthy (and surely the clip they’ll use to illustrate his performance at the BAFTAs and Oscars) is the scene in which Firth collapses from content and confident to a hollow wreck upon receiving the news of his lover’s death: this is seriously great acting.

It’s a cliché, but it must be said that it’s all in Firth’s eyes and face and his subtle expressions; he completely becomes the character. His journey from depression to suicide attempt to realisation that life is worth living is a joy to watch – although a sense of restraint is always there.

I concede that the character’s fastidiousness appeals to me: others may simply see an obsessive/compulsive stuffed shirt. And for a film about overcoming grief, A Single Man is surprisingly humourous, especially Falconer’s suicide attempt: the precision by which he has lived his life is also the key criteria by which he decides where and how to end his life.

One of Falconer’s anchors is his friend, neighbour, fellow exiled-Brit and former lover Charley, played predictably brilliantly by Julianne Moore. Charley is perhaps more the type of character that I thought Falconer would be: miserable, self-obsessed, etc. Moore has just enough scope to make her character more than just a cipher.

Matthew Goode (Ozymandias in Watchmen) is suitably charismatic as Falconer’s dead lover, seen in flashbacks.

Ford directs with a keen eye, knowing when to go long and when to go close and intimate. Every frame is lovingly composed, such that a freeze-frame of any scene would hang beautifully on any wall. And therein lies a slight criticism: so many scenes look like fashion shoot stills come to full motion life (and some distinctly more so than others), and there are at least two scenes of staggeringly clichéd gay iconography that stick out like sore thumbs.

Another slight criticism is Ford’s decision to ‘flush’ his scenes and characters when they meet people whose company they enjoy. These shifts from sharp monochrome to Technicolour do highlight the move from emotional restraint to openness, but arguably not subtly enough. The repeated use becomes a little jarring, as if Ford wanted to add some extra ‘style’ to the film’s ‘substance’. If I were making the film, I’d shift the palette over the course of the entire film, not constantly back and forth.

As this is a Tom Ford film, ‘style’ is everywhere – but crucially not at the expense of substance. Set dressings and fashions were apparently handled by the same people that do so for Mad Men: Falconer’s home is the very essence of chez GQ circa 1962, his suits and blazer are expertly and flatteringly tailored, and his Mercedes is simply gorgeous. It truly is a beautiful film to look at.

But more than Ford, this is Firth’s film.
Score: 7.5/10