A Single Man
|A Single Man directed by Tom Ford|
I actually want to step aside from the visual aspects of this film that seem to please the eagle-eyed audience. Precisely because excelling on that front is to be expected of a fashion designer slash film director. I will merely mention that the meticulous use and the way Tom Ford played with his aesthetic talent and apparatus were so delicate, in a way that allowed an uninterrupted, natural flow of the story, of the audience’s perception of the story, and an almost unconscious synthesis of both, which makes the visual and spoken narratives an inseparable entity.
And that’s where A Single Man outdid itself, also exactly where it could have failed.
I can’t find a better way to put it other than the fact that – in particular moments – the inner world of the film (the imaginary world, allegedly) harmonizes with the external world of reality. Something that the art of film-making manifestly strives to achieve, and rarely – and not so manifestly – succeeds. The kind of moments that seem to take the words out of your own mouth and mind, without you ever knowing how to say them, or that they were even there to begin with. Moments of utter, absolute identification. They keep intensifying – and once and again remind me of – the power, the sensitivity, and – quite tritely – the magic inherent in such compositions. The subtlety of the story, felt in every sentence, every word, surpasses all aspects whatsoever.
A little touch on the writing – though the main credit is probably due to the author of the book on which the movie is based – where the interior voice of the character comes into play: The voice of his thoughts, escorting parts of the story, patching them together with any given moment whether imagined or real. Thoughts so easily felt in a way so impossible to describe. It takes immense courage to conduct such pristine articulation, that ultimately boils down to authenticity, and simplicity.
The greatness, perhaps, of the way this film was made, is that along with the visual delicacy there is also an incredible sensitivity and awareness to plot-related nuances, so that the stark force of the words is not subsided, and the story sticks to its honest core.
It’s absurd, in a sense, that in the deeps of an elusive thread of thought, the abstract is made plain.