Cold Souls
Review: 3.5/5
I would venture to say that debut writer/director Sophie Barthes has read a lot of Kafka, considering her 'Cold Souls' assertively deals with existential issues in a trancelike, bitterly humorous manner. The film stars Paul Giamatti as Paul Giamatti, an overly-anxious, self-deprecating actor struggling with a character he is to play onstage. To Giamatti, he is (not his character, but Giamatti himself) emotionally barren, dark, and lonely, traits he almost self-indulgently applies (he acknowledges this later in the film), to the extent that he has his own soul extracted by the highly unorthodox Dr. Flintstein. Eventually he finds himself feeling hollow and empty without his soul, then tries to locate it after it's accidentally shipped to Russia amidst "soul-trafficking."
The originality of the story aside, the notable standout is Giamatti playing a role he's destined to be remembered for years from now. He's given free reign to locate and manifest almost literally the entire spectrum of human emotion via his character (he goes through a few different souls). Barthes is wise in her direction, allowing the camera to linger on uncomfortably long shots of Giamatti, studying his character's progression, or lack thereof. It's almost cathartic to observe Giamatti vent these emotions after watching his characters struggle constantly in 'Sideways,' and 'American Splendor.' There's a great scene featuring Giamatti at a rehearsal for his play - his first time exhibiting himself without his soul. What comes to fruition in this scene is the near impossibility of satisfaction, or so the film posits.
Stylistically the film adheres to stark greys, browns, and whites that are all the more relevant given that, this being a film specifically focused on Giamatti, they mirror his view of the world around him. As does the camera, formally - the entire mise-en-scene reflects the continually bleak state of mind Giamatti locks himself in, a slave to his own harsh psychoanalysis.
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