Cast: Ewan McGregor, Tilda Swinton, Peter Mullan, Emily Mortimer, Jack McElhone, Therese Bradley
Director: David Mackenzie
Producer: Jeremy Thomas
Screenplay: David Mackenzie, based on the novel by Alexander Trocchi
Cinematography: Giles Nuttgens
Music: David Byrne
U.S. Distributor: Sony Pictures Classics
As far as the mainstream press is concerned, the salient feature of Young Adam is the MPAA's bestowal of the "Kiss of Death" NC-17 rating. (In a move that shows respect for potential viewers, Sony Pictures Classics has reversed their original intention to cut the film and decided to release it as intended, irrespective of the NC-17.) Unfortunately, lost in the controversy is a recognition of the fact that Young Adam belongs to an endangered species: the compelling thriller that doesn't rely on idiotic, last-minute surprises. One of the reasons the movie works is because the question really isn't "Whodunnit?" but "What Really Happened?" Young Adam is a little slow moving and claustrophobic (many scenes take place in the cramped below-decks quarters on a barge), and the time line can be confusing at first. (There are no easy cues to identify flashbacks, which occur with some frequency, and are not in chronological order.) The screenplay is more character-driven than plot-driven, which means that the cinemascape is not littered with contrivances. Plus there is a lot of sex. Four women (including Emily Mortimer and Tilda Swinton) show pretty much everything they have to show, and, in a piece of news that's not exactly a first, Ewan McGregor allows the camera to capture a glimpse of his penis.
Joe (McGregor) is an apparently harmless young man who prefers reading a book or sitting quietly by himself to having a drink at the pub. Currently, Joe is working with the husband-and-wife team of Les (Peter Mullan) and Ella (Tilda Swinton), loading and unloading a barge that they pilot through the streams and canals of Scotland. Joe has a mysterious past that includes a relationship with a free-spirited woman named Cathie (Emily Mortimer), about whom we learn more via flashbacks as the movie progresses.
When we first meet Joe, he and Les are fishing the naked dead body of a woman out of the water. Soon, Les is down at the pub boasting about the discovery (which has made the evening paper), while Joe remains behind with the objective of seducing Ella. Although the older woman resists at first, when she surrenders, she does so passionately, and soon she and Joe are involved in a sex-drenched relationship in which they can't keep their hands off one another. But, just as Ella announces her intention to divorce Les, Joe turns his attention to Ella's newly widowed sister, Gwen (Therese Bradley). Meanwhile, the investigation into the body discovered by Joe and Les takes an unsettling turn.
Young Adam, directed by David Mackenzie, uses the Scottish locales to good effect. The seemingly perpetual gray day scenes and dark night scenes (often with rain) establish an oppressive tone. This is a motion picture that relies as much upon mood as plot and characterization. In many ways, the film is a morality play, but it is equally valid as a thriller or a character study. Mackenzie's screenplay (based on the novel by Alexander Trocchi) reveals one alarming detail after another about the seemingly meek Joe, until we have an entirely different picture from the one we initially envisioned. This presents an acting challenge for Ewan McGregor. The other actors, despite not having as much screen time as McGregor, are all good - the chameleon-like Tilda Swinton as the repressed, frustrated Ella; Peter Mullan as the gruff Les; and Emily Mortimer as the vulnerable Cathie.
Young Adam has less broad-based appeal than something a "traditional" thriller, but, in many ways, it offers a more satisfying experience. There is one scene of sexual kinkiness that may elicit some nervous chuckles, but it is important in illustrating the depths to which Joe can sink. Young Adam is darkly effective, and its grip lasts longer than we might be entirely comfortable with.
© 2004 James Berardinelli