First-time writer and Director, Sophie Barthes, said that she came upon the idea in a dream. In the dream, Woody Allen had his soul extracted and was infuriated to find that it looked like a chickpea. Barthes took this idea and made it the best running joke in the film.
Cold Souls centres on Paul Giamatti, playing himself. Tormented by his new role in Uncle Vanya, he struggles to separate himself from the bitter character that he plays. He seeks refuge in a new service called Soul Storage. The soul can be disembodied, stored, and replaced with other souls: if one so desired. David Strathairn, who played Edward R. Murrow in Good Night & Good Luck with such style, plays Dr. Flintstein (read: Frankenstein – another Doctor who attempts to tamper with nature), the inventor of this new technology. Strathairn’s deadpan lines are perfectly weighted, “soullessness does have its peculiarities” being particularly dry.
Giamatti initially finds life easier without his troubled soul, but his performance of Uncle Vanya only deteriorates. He finds life without a soul empty and meaningless. His wife (an understated and convincing Emily Watson) begins to notice the change. He returns to the clinic for a replacement soul and then finally, he wants his own.
The latter half of the film concerns the Giamatti’s pursuit of the Russian importers of souls. The traffickers use “mules” that transport and, in Giamatti’s case, steal souls. Giamatti’s search for the physical soul leads him to St. Petersburg. There are parallels with drug trafficking and the Russian sex industry. This idea could have been explored much more deeply and effectively. But the film’s need to be kooky seems to override any social or political comment.
Giamatti’s role is pivotal. So much of the film is seen through his eyes. The film could only work if his performance is authentic: and it is. He is subtle and bittersweet in this world-weary manifestation of himself. Without him, the film would cease to be slow-paced and meandering, and simply be boring. But it cannot quite tie the film together.
The moments of warmth between Giamatti and his wife are beautifully subtle. Contrast this with the camera work: a bitterly grey New York and a bleak St. Petersburg. Andrij Parekh’s cinematography is strong and constructs both locations as Giamatti’s personal purgatory. The human moments are the only parts that do not bite with the anguish of an empty soul. But the interactions with his wife are far too infrequent. As the film progresses, it becomes clear that the most engaging part of the film has passed the viewer by. The shift between existential drama and mystery romance towards the end of the film is particularly difficult to swallow.
Easy comparisons are drawn to Charlie Kaufman’s films, particularly Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Being John Malkovich. Like Being John Malkovich, the central character is a fictionalised version of himself. Like Eternal Sunshine, a new technology can remove physically remove one’s emotional problems. Much like Kaufman’s most recent film, Synecdoche, New York, Cold Souls is influenced by Jungian psychology, particularly Giamatti’s self-realization on seeing his own soul. But it lacks the flair of Kaufman & Michel Gondry’s Eternal Sunshine. And it does not have the intellectual strength of Being John Malkovich.
There is a sense that this film is trying desperately to be a cult film, and that it would have been better realised if Kaufmann had made this film himself. It could potentially have been excellent – Giamatti’s talents seem to be under the radar of most cinemagoers, if not award committees.
Verdict – Cold Souls shows so much promise and yet, ultimately, it is a little disappointing. Much like seeing your soul and finding it looks like a chickpea.
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