Dreams

Some films come with a message, and others more an intention. Dreams is a film that seems to believe it has both, yet fails to ignite interest. From Michel Franco, who did the very unimpressive, forgettable Memory, this work stars Jessica Chastain as a socialite conducting a secret affair with a dancer, who has crossed the border to be with her, but done so in a manner that could get both of them in trouble. There are times the film seems to think it is sparking, yet endless scenes of graphic sex does not make a substitute for character or statement.

Perhaps the problem is the script is so simple and basic that we, as an audience, understand exactly what is happening immediately, but we are given no reasons to care, or invest. Neither character has anything but the “will they be found out” hanging over their head, yet even this is largely shunted aside as they both proceed to act with a level of abandon that undermines tension. This is a film that feels, at times, like a documentary, but this is not intended as a compliment. It lacks the interest of real life, and any visual identity. Jessica Chastain is one of the greatest actresses currently working in Hollywood, yet here she is dull, and her character refuses to make a point for existing or acting as she does. Is this a satire of the idle rich? A riff on the femme fatale? A naïve and self destructive case of arrested development?

It is hard to tell, as most scenes have her saying yes or no variances, or telling her lover to stay or go, and, maybe, if there is a change of heart on the ruthless scriptwriter, inquiring where he is or what he is up to. Similarly, the lover’s story plays out almost as a mirror of hers, except he gets to sleep with some other women and search for a position as a dancer and teacher. This is not much of an improvement, because the script and direction cannot figure out how to infuse any life into the proceedings.

It is a film that could have explored real intimacy and distance, but seems to want to truly grapple with nothing. It wants to pat itself on the back and suggest it is deeper, wiser and more nuanced than it is. It winds up as nothing more or less than the most basic, pathetic sort of  nonsense. It is the type of film Nicole Kidman has begun doing, where a slightly older woman is with a much younger man but there is no reason for it to happen other than to present the actress as still viable. In the case of both women, they are still beautiful and massively talented, so it is an indictment of Hollywood itself that it feels like this is the motivation for scenes like the ones in this film where the characters have graphic sex. Yes, we all know older woman are still sexual beings. But what about this film, in specific?

Is it a thriller, or a slow drama character study? It seems, at times, to have elements of both, neither of which activate as they ought to. This is a film that is painful because everything ought to work, but it does not. Maybe some real stakes, rather than real stupidity, would have improved the proceedings. Again, maybe not. Maybe there needs to be something to a film other than meandering and ponderous platitudes about very serious subjects examined as deeply as a paper cut. Do not waste your time with this monumental mess.