![]() Such discordances disorient the viewer and detract from the film’s tone until even a striking, memorable denouement seems jarringly foreign against the rest of the film’s development.Īny peculiar moments, however, are redeemed by the film’s stunningly nuanced execution. Yet following the haunting, macabre first scene, these warm exchanges instead leave one cold. Lomax’s romance with Patti at the beginning is meant to be sweet: “I’ve never kissed a man with a mustache before, and I won’t do it again,” Patti says to the then-mustachioed Lomax, and while the remark might sound contrived done wrong, Kidman delivers it so earnestly that it is more charming than laughable. ![]() While a majority of the film transitions fluidly between key scenes and different time periods, certain turns in the script feel sharp. The only glaring issue with “The Railway Man” is its treatment of the story. These minute details grant Lomax’s depiction emotional weight, and the acting becomes another testament to how the film foregoes flash for something more innately human. During the most painful parts of Lomax’s time as a prisoner of war, Irvine’s dilated eyes capture all attention, a blankness within them that seems to suggest Lomax’s weakening resolve. While Firth’s acting captures subtleties, Irvine is more explosive-fitting as the torture occurs in the present for him. The most poignant performance, however, is Irvine’s as Firth’s younger counterpart. Firth’s control over his facial expressions is strong and communicative, and the camera’s regular pan onto his face allows the audience to slowly understand Lomax’s grief. ![]() As the older Lomax, Firth must deftly show a man near breaking point, too caught in internal suffering, trying to maintain a complacent façade-something he accomplishes through careful changes in his face, large enough to be discerned but small enough to avoid seeming like caricatures. Firth, acclaimed for his roles as a depressed university professor in “A Single Man” and King George VI in “The King’s Speech,” proves once again his ability to portray with a masterful realism characters afflicted by complicated conflicts. Memory is more vivid than reality, a scenic suggestion that for the characters, the past overshadows the present.īut a beautiful backdrop is nothing without suitable actors, and “The Railway Man” delivers in that regard. Visually, Teplitzky barrages the audience with a mix of muted and vibrant colors in 1980s England, hues of grey, blue, and brown make up the color palate, a surprising contrast to the bright greens of 1930s World War II-era Thailand. As Lomax’s wife, Patti (Nicole Kidman), researches his past and looks into images of the war in his notebooks, a steady drumbeat drives the tense moments forward until the low percussion becomes a high-pitched buzz, paralleling the sketches’ downward spiral from images of capture to those of torture. The score reflects each moment’s mood, adding light to the romantic moments and darkness to any mention of the war. Scene after scene, director Jonathan Teplitzky employs deft cinematography, integrating thoughtful visuals with a fitting soundtrack. The introduction sets a reflective and philosophical tone, a tone carried throughout the film as Lomax tries to battle his inner demons from his war years. ![]() ![]() When the film begins, an older Lomax (Colin Firth) lying on the floor recites in a subdued, dead voice, “At the beginning of time, the clock struck one.” The camera trails from his feet to his face, a ghastly image when framed with the darkness and stream of light hitting his body. ![]()
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