The Weight of Water

The problem with "The Weight of the Water", the film, is the way the novel by Anita Shreve, was adapted for the screen. This is the basic flaw that even a good director like Kathryn Bigelow couldn't overcome when she took command of the production. The novel, as it is, presents grave problems for a screen treatment, something that the adapters, Alicia Arlen and Christopher Kyle, were not successful with their screen play.

The picture is basically a film within a film. Both subjects, the present time and the story that is revealed as Jane gets involved, parallel each other, but one story has nothing to do with the other. Also, the way this film was marketed was wrong. This is not a thriller at all. What the book and the film are about is human situations that are put to a test.

In the story that happened many years ago in a settlement in coastal New England, there was a notorious murder at the center of the narrative. It has to do with a wrongly accused man, Louis Wagner, a man that is basically crippled with arthritis that is accused by Maren Hontvelt, his landlady, as the one that killed two women, Karen and Anethe. In flashbacks we get to know the truth of how an innocent man is hung for a crime he didn't commit.

The second story shows how Jane who is traveling with her husband Thomas, in his brother's yacht. She is a photographer on assignment about the place where the women were murdered, years ago, is lured to the subject matter she is photographing, and makes the discovery of the truth. Her own relationship with her husband Thomas is a troubled one. They are doomed as a couple, one can only see the way he leers after his brother's girlfriend as she parades almost naked in the pleasure boat they are spending time. In the novel the tension comes across much deeply than what one sees in the movie.

The amusing thing about the film is that the secondary story is more interesting than the present one. Thus, the luminous Sarah Polley, who plays Maren in the secondary tale, makes a deep impression, as does the accused man, Louis Wagner, who is portrayed by Ciaran Hands. Sean Penn, comes across as somehow stiff as Thomas. The wonderful Katrin Cartlidge is totally wasted.

The film has elicited bad comments in this forum, but it's not the bad movie some people are trying to say it is. Better yet, read Ms. Shreve's novel as it is more satisfying than what came out in this movie version.

'The Weight of Water' tells two stories simultaneously. It is only Maren's story that keeps the viewer engaged while Jean's story is halfbaked. In spite of having a stellar cast, the latter story required further development. For example, one doesn't understand why Jean feels so connected to the murders that happened more than a hundred year ago. She's so drawn to it that she prefers to give that more focus than her failing marriage. With the exception of Jean, none of the other characters seem defined enough for us to care about. Maren's story ends up dominating the other. It starts off as rather boring but as events unfold, we're further drawn into it. Yet, more importantly, what is the connection between the two stories? That's one crucial point 'The Weight of Water' fails to make. Catherine McCormack does a fine job with a difficult role. However the screenplay, does not allow her to portray the complex feelings her character is experiencing. Sarah Polley too impresses with a complex role. Sean Penn disappoints. He seems rather uninterested most of the time. Elizabeth Hurley is quite alright as a shameless seductress. She does look sizzling but the screenplay doesn't give her much scope to perform. 'The Weight of Water' tries to be an impactive film but it just doesn't work. Only half the film is worth watching.

When a movie gets itself over certain hurdles, establishing believability, mainly, and creating audience sympathy with/for one or more characters-- I am willing to silence my nagging inner critic, who is perhaps a thwarted pleasure principle raising its head to be fed.

Sarah Polley makes this film. Her acting was excellent, but I found myself, at first, most delighted by her "Norweigan" accent. As the movie went on, I got addicted to that accent, which for me had become integral to her performance. She, not Hurley, not Penn, was the centerpiece of this movie. But everyone was good, and the two story lines came together at the end satisfyingly.

Until I looked Sarah Polley up on IMDb I didn't realize how "busy" she's been (and will be). Also a writer and director ...

Five years after the still underrated Strange Days, admirers of the considerably talented director Kathryn Bigelow were wondering when they would see her next project. When it appeared, The Weight Of Water proved much more consciously 'literary' (being adapted from a novel by Anita Shreeve), being conceived on narrower scope than the previous film, but exceeding its temporal complexity. In her recent films, Bigelow has seemed intrigued by the way in which flashbacks can section a narrative, and dictate tension. Strange Days notably included the visceral thrill of replayed memories, demonstrating all the dangers of literally living in another's head. The present film juxtaposes old and new events much more traditionally, but still creates unsettling experiences in parallel - in ways sometimes reminiscent of The French Lieutenant's Woman (1981).

For those used to the usual Hollywood clichés, the prospect of a boatload of innocents visiting an isolated scene of an old terror might suggest the imminent arrival of vengeful possession. To their credit, Bigelow and her source are above such routine stuff, although the script manages some genuinely creepy moments as Jean (Catherine McCormack) contemplates the gruesome past of Smuttynose Island on, and off, shore. As other reviewers have noted, The Weight Of Water is less about ghastly occurrences than a parallel study of two women, both trapped in loveless relationships. One, the 19th century immigrant Maren Hontvedt (Sarah Polley) reacts with uncharacteristic violence; Jean, the other, is powerless (or even initially willing?) when seeing her man slipping away - either emotionally or then physically.

So stark and successful are the scenes set in the past (the first time that Bigelow has directed such historical material) that one wishes that the modern day episodes aboard the Antares were more engrossing. Part of this is to do with the casting. Although much better than she would prove next in Bedazzled, as the coquettish Adaline Gunn Elizabeth Hurley is simply too shallow an actress to suggest the complexities and depths that her part deserves. Some of this is the script's fault, giving her little chance to express herself in anything but blatant body language. Whether lounging in her provocative white bikini, or sucking and toying with ice cubes like a nymphet arousing the poet Thomas (a troubled Sean Penn), our interest in her is usually limited to whether she succeeds in seducing half of the dysfunctional couples sharing the yacht. "Women's motives are always more concealed than men's," suggests Thomas at one point. Unfortunately, in Adaline's case at least, they are as obvious as the look on her face.

Both the house on Smuttynose Island and the 'sort-of vacation' enjoyed by those on the Antares, are threatening and claustrophobic. The atmosphere between consenting adults on board reminds one at times of that on the boat in Polanski's Knife In The Water (aka: Nóz w wodzie, 1962), although events turn out differently. As Jean observes, at the time of the killings it was felt that Louis Wagner (Ciarán Hinds) "was in love with one of the women, (and that) murder was the only way he could possess her." "I like that," comments Adaline tritely, unconsciously inviting an echo of this obsessive behaviour towards herself. At one point a rogue wind literally flaps her in some original documents relating to the case, a tangible suggestion of a bond between past and present. Although she doesn't succumb to the same Lizzie Borden-nightmare that took place on shore, the tension is there.

On board the Antares from the start, the drama of sexual attraction is of more importance than the violence of historical events, even though it is the old criminal case which has drawn Jean, leaving its emotional shadow. It is ironic and apt that her preoccupation with it partly makes her refuse Thomas' belated advances in the archive library. Usually, before this moment of romance, he glumly chain-smokes or decries the sensitivity which first attracted Jean - indeed for a poet, he remains curiously inexpressive of his feelings. It turns out that while contemplating the tanning body of Adaline he's absorbed with the death of an old girl friend in a car crash, one for which he was responsible and which inspires his famous poetry. In contrast, Rich Janes (Josh Lucas) the poet's brother and Adaline's current lover, seems unaffected either literature or the strained atmosphere - even at one point making light of his own lack of emotional commitment. With such a crew, one main difference between the 19th and the 21st century, the film suggests, is that of emotional engagement. All of the real 'drama' takes place in the wood cabin. On the yacht it is left deliberately shallow, and largely unexpressed - even if just as desperate.

It is Bigelow's skilful cutting between that century and this, and her suggestions of patterns both here and there, which makes the film so enjoyable and interesting. The film stands or falls by this technique and a typical criticism of it has been that 'the issues are subtle to the point of mere implication', or that the final moments of catharsis carry little weight as 'so little of dramatic interest' precedes them. But much of the pleasure from the picture lays precisely in the undecided or the unspoken, where a wife's desperation can be blown away in the wind and sea, and love is a trap. A more exact resolution of Jean's emotional dilemma, or a stricter line drawn between time zones would have reduced the mystery considerably. This is a film where it is simply enough, as Jean rightly observes, "that you sense something is about to happen - and when you realise it already has."

Hurley's shortcomings as an actress aside, most of the cast is excellent. Sarah Polley seems to have found her dramatic niche in cheerless historical settings (she was also in Winterbottom's excellent The Claim, 2000) and projects just the right degree of Scandinavian angst. Bigelow uses all of her locations effectively, with some especially impressive shoreline work, and the plot flows easily. This director's admirers should seek this out, and welcome her talent back without delay.

Love, hate, jealousy, desire sometimes work together with disastrous consequences.

Kathryn Bigelow put together an interesting story based on a novel using these themes. Action bounced back and forth between the present with Catherine McCormack, Sean Penn, Elizabeth Hurley & Josh Lucas; and the past featuring Sarah Polley.

A murder took place in 1873 and there is no doubt watching the action that Polley committed it. Unfortunately, a man hangs for the crime instead of her.

The present day crew with McCormack doing a great job as a photographer investigating the murder seem to be having some of the same problems that beset Polley. Her husband (Peen) can't seem to take his eyes off Hurley (and who could blame him as she exposes ample skin to distract us should the story lag - which it doesn't), and there is some indication that more might have happened.

Just as things came to a head with Polley and a moment of madness overtook her, we can see the same things happening in the present.

The murdered are still be discussed 100 years later and only a couple of people know what really happened. We can also look at the present situation and discuss what went on in the minds of the characters in the storm. It leaves room for doubt, and that is what makes this an interesting story, besides, of course, McCormack's and Polley's performances.