Death
and the Maiden (1994)
Note: The following reveals
the ending to this film!!!
If Amnesty International ever produced a feature film,
it might be "Death and the Maiden." In fact, many human
rights organizations are thanked in the closing credits,
leading one to believe they assisted with research and
other technicalities.
The film deals with the torture of political prisoners.
But instead of taking us into a prison and showing us
what happens when a prisoner is tortured and interrogated,
"Death and the Maiden" deals with the tension it creates
some years later. Sigourney Weaver plays a woman who
lives with her husband/lover in an unnamed South American
country. Her husband (Stuart Wilson) has become a bigwig
in the new democratic regime. In fact, he is looking
into the treatment of political prisoners during the
former government's reign. This creates some initial
tension in the film when Weaver learns of his new position
before he arrives home one evening.
Eventually, this tension is replaced by an even greater
one when Ben Kingsley ("Ghandi") arrives on the scene.
Weaver recognizes his voice, speech patterns and some
of his patter as that of her tormentor in prison, a
doctor she never actually saw. Weaver waits for the
man to fall asleep, as he is visiting her husband, and
then ties him up. She turns the tables on him and begins
to torture and interrogate him. Schubart's "Death and
the Maiden" plays a part in the plot and acts the reason
for the odd title. The trouble here is that we are never
sure if Kingsley is Weaver's actual tormentor or if
she is simply losing her mind and coming unraveled,
especially since she is dealing with the new information
about her husband's new job. The timing is quite precarious.
This plot becomes quite engrossing although we must
wait 30 minutes into the film to get here and really
get hooked on it.
The best part of "Death and the Maiden" is that we
never really know ourselves whether Weaver is right
or not. The film goes round and round with Ariel Dorfman's
script (based on her play - she is aided by Rafael Yglesias
with the screenplay) adding layer upon layer to the
story. It's wonderful that we do not go visually back
in time to the prison scenes we hear described. Like
the play, the entire story, with it's references to
incidents some time in the past, is all handled in dialogue.
But eventually, the truth must come out. One wishes
the story might end without a resolution, without us
ever knowing whether Kingsley really is guilty or not.
but this can not work here. Eventually, we must learn
that Kingsley is, indeed, guilty. In a wonderful yet
subtle moment, Kingsley finally confesses. It almost
escapes us that we've seen a phony confession mouthed
by Kingsley previously in the film and that this one
must be juxtaposed against it. In the former case, Weaver
simply wants a confession and Wilson conspires with
Kingsley to deliver her one. But their attempt is hopelessly
failed and looks like the phony confessions (ala "1984")
that we often see in political prisoner newsreels. Here,
instead, when the real confession comes it is brutally
honest and realistic. Kingsley begins to ramble, giving
us repulsive insight into his feelings as he was delicately
seduced into torturing these prisoners. (His initial
purpose was to keep the prisoners alive, as he is a
doctor). As he continues to confess, Kingsley goes deeper
and deeper into his psyche until he eventually spills
his guts. His confession is so quiet, so slight, that,
as it unravels, we don't initially realize how pitiful,
sick, lurid, weak, small-minded and distasteful it is.
When Kingsley admits simple sickening little details
about his feelings like "I liked being naked," it seems
like nothing. Yet, eventually, this subdued rant becomes
overwhelmingly repulsive. Finally, we realize it is
so disquieting because it is so real - it is the exact
opposite of the phony confession we have heard earlier.
This is the film's finest moment.
The producers wisely tap Roman Polanski to lens this
unusual film. Polanski is no stranger to character studies
with deep psychological layers. His earlier films, especially
those in the 60's, often dealt with this subject. Polanski
doesn't pull us as tautly as he might yet he consistently
pulls the film in concentric circles, using the gravitational
pull of the subject matter, until we are quite wound
up in the story. "Death and the Maiden" isn't a film
that is going to reach out and grab you. Instead, Polanski
and his trio of fine actors simply tell the story quietly
and straightforwardly until it reaches it's intended
conclusion. It is, quite simply, a very solid film.
As for the acting, the principles follow Polanski's
lead. Weaver, as always, is amazing. This woman is quickly
earning a place in my heart as America's finest actress.
She handles any and all subject matter, in any film
she is in, with grace and seeming ease. Called upon
to run the gamut from quiet, frightened rabbit to tormented
tormentor in this piece, Weaver never fails, never falters
here. She is a rock. Kingsley, likewise is great. Drawing
ever slowly within himself throughout the film, Kingsley
travels miles psychologically here. His finale in the
film is delivered perfectly, with the perfect intonations.
His confession, the linchpin of the film, ends the plot
on an astonishing note. And while Wilson may not be
quite as important as his two co-stars, he is equally
skilled here.
This is an important film. Unlike others dealing with
this type of subject matter which have come before it,
"Death and the Maiden" is much more quiet, much more
subtle. The intricacies and minor chords the film strikes
are not what cinematic audiences expect from a film
about torture victims and their interrogators. Still
what is most odd and wondrous about the film is just
that. This film is probably the most valid and insightful
look at political torture which we will ever see on
screen. This film is one of a kind.
Note: Dorfman is a Co-Producer here. Director of Photography
is Tonino Delli Colli. Psychological Research credit
is given to Elizabeth Lira.
Original Score by Wojciech Kilar performed by The
English Chamber Orchestra. Schubart pieces performed
by the Amadeus Quartet.
Weaver and Kingsley starred in Ivan Reitman's "Dave"
together shortly before this picture, although they
share only a few, minor scenes.
Schubart's piece, written in 1817 was the basis for
his "String Quartet in D Minor."
Review written in 1996
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