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Just what the world needs — another girl-meets-girl movie.
The chicks-who-dig-chicks love story minigenre has pretty much played itself out since go fish made a splash at the Sundance Film Festival nearly three years ago. Last year’s Heavenly Creatures was probably the category’s apogee; the new When Night Is Falling may be its nadir.
What distinguishes Night from its women-who-prefer-women predecessors? In a word, looks. Canadian writer-director Patricia Rozema’s first film, 1987’s I’ve Heard the Mermaids Singing, established her as a cinematic impressionist par excellence. When Night Is Falling has that same dreamy quality, bolstered by bravura lenswork and fine performances. The film looks great. And the two female leads, Pascale Bussiäres and Rachael Crawford, are quite comely as well, which should go a long way toward pleasing viewers who have been lured in by the film’s publicity campaign trumpeting its hot love scenes.
But as hard as it is to fault the film from a superficially aesthetic standpoint, the bottom line is that pretty scenery is about all the movie has going for it. When Night Is Falling takes itself too seriously by half. The delicately beautiful Bussiäres plays Camille, a soft-spoken Christian scholar and Calvinist about to marry Martin (Henry Czerny), a charismatic theologian. But lately Camille, whose lectures, portentously enough, revolve around the theme of transformation, has been feeling vaguely dissatisfied with her proper intellectual life. The prospect of marrying Martin and becoming co-chaplains of their religious college frightens her.
One afternoon while working in her office, Camille’s beloved dog Bob runs away and dies. The movie offers no hint as to the cause of death; Camille just finds him laid out in an alley. Grief-stricken, she takes him home and — are you ready for this? — puts him in the refrigerator. Later, while washing her clothes at the neighborhood laundromat, Camille meets Petra, a flamboyant — and equally beautiful — lesbian circus performer. (Apparently there are many such women in Canada.) Petra comforts Camille over the loss of Bob, then throws in a few lingering glances to let her know that she’d like to offer more than just sympathy. Their relationship develops in fits and starts as Camille’s lust for this brazen “artist” clashes with her need for security and her feelings for Martin. Camille and Petra experience several false starts — presumably Rozema’s idea of building erotic tension — before ultimately going for it in a scene so generically soft-core that it could have been lifted from a Playboy home video.
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After much gnashing of teeth, Camille finally decides to run away with Petra and join the circus rather than live a stultifying intellectual life with Martin. So lust wins out over reason. That’s Rozema’s big discovery.
But the filmmaker isn’t through. Before running off to join the big top, Camille decides to bury Bob. She takes him to a remote hillside and covers him with snow. (Camille, it seems, has not considered the spring thaw.) And poor Martin gets a consolation prize when one of the circus’s behind-the-scenes workers tires of the instability of her nomadic life, leaves the troupe, and takes up with the jilted theologian just as Camille and Petra shove off. So for every woman who craves a walk on the wild side, there’s one who’s ready to settle down and live a “normal” life. Wow, what penetrating insight.
Poor Henry Czerny. He was so great as the pedophilic Brother Lavin in The Boys of St. Vincent. He is wasted here, although he does get to play one spicy nude love scene with Bussiäres. And speaking of sex scenes, When Night Is Falling teases a heck of a lot before it delivers. If you’re into that sort of thing, enjoy. Just do yourself a favor and don’t leave when the final credits begin to roll. The postscript is one of the most ludicrous in the history of film (hint: it involves a resurrection). One might even say it barks.
When Night Is Falling.
Written and directed by Patricia Rozema; with Pascale Bussiäres, Rachael Crawford, and Henry Czerny.
