What do "Eat, Pray, Love," "Cairo Time," and "I Am Love" have in common? They all explore the universe as a feminine phenomenon: rejecting historical subject matters--business, politics, social institutions, organized religion, and even time itself--in favor of silent observation, soft silk fabrics, sensual smiles, beguiling landscapes and luscious culinary displays. The wandering plot lines of these films and the focus on a uniquely feminine approach to meaning and fulfillment give way to the kind of meditative "lenteur" Milan Kundera exalted in his 1995 novel, Slowness. The only trouble is that the search results are rather dissatisfying, leading to deserted places, unanswered questions and facile romantic solutions.
In "Cairo Time" (dir. Ruba Nadda, Canada/ Ireland/ Egypt, 2009, 90 min) a middle- aged American magazine editor, played by Patricia Clarkson, arrives in the Egyptian capital to meet her husband for a romantic vacation--only to discover that he has been held up indefinitely in Gaza. Juliette is met and then subsequently rescued by her husband's worldly former deputy, Tareq. All the while her spouse, a bleary-eyed New Yorker who runs a refugee camp for the U.N., seems to remain oblivious to the danger she faces alone in Cairo. Despite their apparent significance, the hints at political unrest are swept under the carpet of her lavish hotel room while her near affair with the dashing Tareq (played by Alexander Siddig) smothers a potential foray into Middle Eastern gender politics. Or perhaps, for Ms. Nadda, who both wrote and directed the film, all this subtlety is quite purposeful …
As the words in the title suggest, both time and place are significant themes. Juliette is suspended, not only in her waiting but also in space--as she inhabits what reveals itself to be a very foreign and mysterious city. The constraints of religious intolerance, gender inequality and child labor reach us in whispering pleas from the backdrop of an obscure otherness. The question of an intelligent order contained within the crowded markets, segregated cafés, and tidy sweatshops is left open. The honeyed waters of the Nile at dusk and the windswept dunes prove no easier to decipher. And further confounding the unsuspecting Juliette is her acquaintance with an unruly French emigrée, who appears, not only to have understood Cairo's secrets but to have, at times, embraced their treasure as well.
And yet, distinct from the characters I will discuss below, the well-behaved Juliette and Tareq, however much they are drawn to one another, keep their passions firmly rooted in the context of their love's impossibility. Tareq’s unwavering dignity, even in the face of heart-ache and desolation, stunningly evokes the archaic tragedy of his culture. Meanwhile Juliette’s trembling hold on his amulet suggests that, in the end, she may have experienced for herself the arcane ‘reasons for things’ buried within that ancient and most extraordinary place.
Juliette’s exploration of the unfamiliar, along with the unsolicited, overwhelming understanding it affords her, contrasts sharply with the idea of otherness found in Luca Guadagnino’s "I Am Love" (Io sono l’amore, Italy, 2009, 120 min). As a transplanted Russian bride in Milan, wife of a wealthy industrialist, and mother of three adult children, Emma Recchi (played by Tilda Swinton) is an uncanny mix of obliging and contemplative. She appears altogether lost in a world to which she does not belong. Carrying her sumptuous wardrobe with aristocratic grace, she also exercises extreme delicacy, as if to avoid shattering a fourth wall. In this role, Swinton's beauty is both mesmerizing and alienating; at times her face is splendid and, in other moments, frightening. The cinematography, especially of the French coastal landscape where she eventually finds love, seems to mimic an antique 8mm camera; the viewer is disarmed by attractively blurred prawns and tree blossoms, sunlight that skips and jumps and a muted soundtrack. Likewise, the camera's treatment of Swinton's strange and wonderful mutability remains intriguing throughout most of the film. However, while the actress, the Italian designers she wears, and the food she eats are deliciously engaging, the plot line leaves much to be desired. The impromptu drama which stands in for catharsis is dreadful and dreadfully unwarranted. The object of Emma’s thoughtfulness is never revealed, and both her irresponsible comportment and her daughter's blessing [of it] are contrived. The only convincingly written performance is that of the family's domestic servant--who alone seems to wade through the absurdity with appropriate concern.
Finally, "Eat, Pray, Love," (dir. Ryan Murphy, U.S., 120 min) is the least worthy of the three films insofar as the sum of its many faults equates to a rather tedious viewing experience. The adaptation of Elizabeth Gilbert's novel was perhaps a flawed notion from the get-go--as it would indeed be very difficult to translate the levity and irony of her "voice" into cinematographic language. I will grant that Gilbert’s box wine witticisms, regarding the long-term effects of too many boyfriends and too much carb-induced self-loathing, are as agreeable in Julia Roberts's delivery as they were in the author's prose. However, there is far too much going on for this woman's enquête to be considered serious or meaningful, and the attempt to cram it all into a feature length product merely exposes the fraudulence in Gilbert's original tale. Making love to pizza, worshiping photographs of an unknown ashram and studying toothless prophecies in tropical paradise make a travesty of Italian culture, faith and knowledge. It's fine to be ignorant of all these things, and even to profit from such egregious naiveté, but to ask your audience to imagine either a quest or certain fulfillment is somewhat preposterous. When taken as a charming woman's travelogue and the story of her discovery of true love (or more simply, a suitably dynamic mate), it is pleasant enough. In fact, the romance with Felipe (played by a ruggedly handsome yet comfortably sensitive Javier Bardem) is easily the most enjoyable part of the movie. Although, it should be noted that escaping reality is seldom as lovely and as handsomely rewarded as this movie about Ms. Gilbert’s crisis would have us believe.
The interest in a muliebral journey is a noble topic, but what is considered the domain of the feminine, traditionally speaking, is not limited to women and their dating woes. The 'feminine' carries with it a distinct kind of knowledge--irrational, spontaneous, mysterious--and yet also very real and important. Because certain things like love, faith, joy, loss and difference cannot be explained logically, does not mean they cannot be fully or sincerely explored.
