While I respect and enjoy virtually every aspect of cinema, I have wondered just what it is that makes it so powerful. The answer, I think, is human behavior. No matter how filmmakers present their stories, how they are intertwined or stylishly photographed, or supported with great music, movies work because they explore the endless variations of human behavior in all sorts of interesting situations. Here is yet another story of the Holocaust, at least the beginning of it in Austria, which involves one family and what would become a world famous painting; the picture which this movie paints regarding this situation is fascinating.
Simon Curtis’ film is based on the experiences of Maria Altmann (Helen Mirren), who fled Austria soon after the Nazis invaded in 1938. She (and her husband) leave behind her parents and their estate, which includes five paintings by Gustav Klimt. One of those paintings is “Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer,” which, over time, becomes beloved by the Austrian people (it is referred to in the film as the Austrian “Mona Lisa”). In the 1990s, Altmann and a young lawyer (Ryan Reynolds) make the effort to legally retrieve the painting, ultimately taking the Austrian government to court, in Austria and then in California, and then again in Austria.
It’s a bumpy ride because Curtis wants to cover all the bases. It’s a contemporary drama of a woman needing to maintain a connection to her past; it’s a legal drama with all sorts of obstacles to overcome; it’s a period drama depicting Maria’s anguish at losing most everything she loved; it’s even a thriller as Maria and her husband flee from the Nazis. Trying to be so all-encompassing lessens its effectiveness to some degree, but not so much as to ruin the picture.
The film’s route to justice is long and legally torturous. The moral, or ethical, path is just as winding, which is where the movie truly succeeds. Maria’s desire is simple: to retrieve an important part of her family’s past, to which she has legal right. But the ramifications are cloudy: Does she want the paintings just to sell them? Does the lawyer continue the case because of helpfulness or greed? Is the Austrian refusal to negotiate due to overconfidence or fear? Does one person have the right to take the symbol of a whole country for herself? These and other questions rise and intertwine throughout the narrative — and some are very difficult to answer satisfactorily.
Woman in Gold benefits from a screenplay by Alexi Kaye Campbell which allows the various elements to evolve and intersect in engrossing fashion, and a nicely nuanced performance by Helen Mirren as Maria. Mirren’s conviction in the role removes any doubts about her character’s sincerity. The story’s resolution won’t please everyone, but that’s the point. Hard choices — and this movie posits some very hard choices for most of its characters — must be made, and people have to live with them. That human behavior thing has worked pretty well for more than a century of movies; let’s hope it remains the center of many more. ☆ ☆ ☆. 12 April 2015.
P.S. Yesterday I watched Woman in Gold for a second time, because I wanted Barb to see it as well. I liked it just as much, maybe even a little better. And I found that I appreciated Ryan Reynolds’ performance more the second time around; he’s a nice foil for Helen Mirren’s commanding presence. ☆ ☆ ☆. 20 April 2015.