AFI Fest 2014: "The Duke of Burgundy"

Director: Peter Strickland
Runtime: 106 minutes

Campy, sexy, and mesmerizing, The Duke of Burgundy represents a giant leap forward for British director Peter Strickland. The director last appeared at AFI Fest two years ago with Berberian Sound Studio, a 70's horror-influenced mystery that eventually drowned in its own self-conscious weirdness. With Duke, however, Strickland has made his characters more than just figures to wander through the frame looking as bewildered as the audience. Some of the film's stylistic flourishes are a bit head-scratching, but Strickland's sensitivity towards his actors, amidst all of the atmosphere, helps this film reach that oddly sublime territory that Sound Studio never found.

Set in Europe (no country is named) during the 60s, Duke opens with a scene that could practically be the intro to an especially cheesy porno. Young, wide-eyed maid Evelyn (Chiara D'Anna) arrives at the manor of butterfly collector Cynthia (Sidse Babett Knudsen), where she's bossed around by the older woman. It's all rather stiff in a way that doesn't make it clear whether or not the phoniness is intentional. Eager to get to the heart of the matter, Strickland quickly pushes past his silly opening and reveals that Duke has much more going on.

The Duke of Burgundy, even with its lush visuals and heaving bosoms in lingerie, is actually the year's most engaging romances. Not only are Evelyn and Cynthia actually lovers, but it's Evelyn who pulls the strings in their roleplaying and S&M endeavors, despite acting in the submissive role. Evelyn's pouty, breathy intonations can be grating, but Cynthia is a remarkable and complicated character. As the older woman (not to mention the breadwinner of the house), Cynthia must deal with self doubt, paranoia about aging, and her declining interest in the roleplaying games while her lover's appetite only increases. 

Knudsen's performance is a big part of why The Duke of Burgundy avoids being nothing more than an exercise of atmosphere. Cynthia plays the dominant role, but given external circumstances, that dominance is a trap. Knudsen brings out Cynthia's vulnerability while still maintaining the character's often steely demeanor. Both leads are tasked with playing characters pretending to be in the their opposite relationship roles, but it's in Cynthia that the film finds its resonance.

Strickland continually references European erotic films from the 60s and 70s, but his vision manages to avoid cheap exploitation. Rather than mercilessly toy with his characters like some spiteful god, the director normalizes most of their relationship, even as he asks us to laugh at some of the details. By not condemning Cynthia and Evelyn's relationship, Strickland continually intrigues with each new development. The relationship's normalization makes the film more relatable, not less. Strip away the non-stop roleplaying, and The Duke of Burgundy is simply exploring the later stages of a romantic and sexual relationship, and the struggles that arise when the parties involved aren't on the same page.

That said, fans of Strickland's first two films needn't worry that the director has gone soft. Strickland's characters may get more earnest attention, but The Duke of Burgundy is still a lush work of cinematic hypnotism. In one early scene, Evelyn watches Cynthia pull on some lingerie through a keyhole. At first, the scene appears to me nothing more than shameless voyeurism on behalf of a naive, simple woman. But when the film returns to the same scene a second and third time, and the audience becomes privy to the actual balance of power, the film's blurring of roleplaying and reality starts to congeal.

Even Strickland's dips into strangeness for the sake of strangeness come across as refined and purposeful. The meaning of some scenes, like one intense montage of butterfly wings, may remain elusive, but at least this time Strickland doesn't get mired in his own visuals. And speaking of visuals, The Duke of Burgundy has a myriad of striking imagery that rivals Cynthia's expansive butterfly collection. The sumptuous, gothic visuals - elegantly strung together by the playful and mysterious editing - are more than worth the price of admission. Strickland and cinematographer Nic Knowland, without going for any big, show-off moments, draw one in deeper and deeper not only into Cynthia and Evelyn's life, but their isolated and gloomy home. The manor starts as a handsome, yet muted, living space, but gradually becomes less hospitable as the two women's relationship falters. As if the visuals weren't enough, brooding and ethereal musical contributions from British-Canadian band Cat's Eyes add the perfect finish to the film's atmosphere. Whether or not The Duke of Burgundy makes sense to the head is secondary to whether it makes sense to the eyes and ears.

Grade: B+

AFI Fest Review: "Berberian Sound Studio"

Director: Peter Strickland
Runtime: 92 minutes

Though Peter Strickland's Berberian Sound Studio is fascinating in its glimpse into the work of sound engineers, it ultimately wears out its welcome. Despite the potential of the premise, this slow-burning thriller runs out of steam quite quickly, and tries to save itself by jumping head first into the deep end. It doesn't really help matters.

Set in the 70s, Strickland's film quickly introduces us to Gilderoy (Toby Jones), a British sound engineer. Gilderoy has been hired by an eccentric Italian horror director to create and mix the sounds for his latest giallo film. Once in the studio, Gilderoy must contend with fussy co-workers, an egotistical director, and actors who struggle to match the director's vision for his film. 

At its best, Sound Studio shows us the amount of effort that goes in to dubbing in almost an entire film's worth of dialogue and sound effects. Whether it's ripping turnips from their stems to simulate hair pulling, or crushing watermelons to evoke a body landing on a curbside, these instances provide an entertaining look into the world of sound. And yet, at only 92 minutes, Strickland's film wears out this angle rather quickly. It doesn't take long before one starts to wish for something more. At best, we get a subplot involving an actress' affair with a director, which amounts to little more than a setback. Strickland also seems to think that repeatedly emphasizing Gilderoy's lackluster social skills somehow enhances the narrative. Like the sound design scenes, it only works for a brief period of time. 

The result of all of this is that the first two acts of the film feel underdeveloped. Just as Gilderoy finds the repetitive nature of his job tiresome, so do the repetitive scenes of recording session lose their appeal. It's a shame because Jones is trying his best to find something to work with underneath the undercooked execution. Credit should also go to the rich, muted cinematography and, as would be expected considering the story, the sound design. The film is a technical marvel, initially buoyed by intrigue and a surprising amount of low key humor. Unfortunately they feel completely stagnant, as though Strickland wants to make sure that the audience "gets it" before segueing into the final act. 

And what a mess of a final act it is. Perhaps in an attempt to compensate for the repetitive nature of the first two thirds, act three goes into full blown David Lynch nightmare mode. However, it does so without earning an ounce of it. Art starts to imitate life, and the authenticity of the story comes into question. Gilderoy wanders from his bed into a room with a projector, only to have the project show a movie what he just did. Yet because the motivations and circumstances are far too vague, it frustrates much more than it intrigues. The further Strickland tries to pull us down the rabbit hole, the more you wish he would just back off and explain what on earth he's trying to do. For once, a little Christopher Nolan-esque exposition would be a welcome addition. 

What's left is a wasted opportunity. Toby Jones has been looking for another great leading role ever since his excellent turn in the under-seen Infamous (2006). This could have and should have been his next triumph as an indie leading man. But Strickland and his screenplay undercut the talented leading man at every turn. Berberian Sound Studio is full of potential, but it only makes anything of said potential for about half an hour. After that, it's merely frustratingly inert, before becoming hopelessly bizarre in some desperate attempt to be achieve meaning. Yet by the time the film cuts to black, we're left every bit as mystified as Gilderoy, watching himself projected by the unseen force of his nightmares.

Grade: C