Cold Souls

For the first time I feel almost at a loss for words over a Cinema 10 movie. This week was the screening of Sophie Barthes' first feature film, "Cold Souls (2009)," which I have been waiting for since the beginning of the season. It seemed like it would be a perfect movie. It stars Paul Giamatti playing a fictionalized version of himself, and that alone got me Stoked out of my mind for the movie. Add to that a plotline in which he travels to Russia to find his soul after it's been removed from his body. What could go wrong? Existential and maybe metafictional and you've got my approval, even though I don't really understand either concept too well. So why is it that I feel almost totally indifferent to this movie? I feel as though I'm not compelled to ask too many questions, and honestly humored the idea that I, personally, have no soul because I wasn't incredibly touched by this movie and its outstanding ending.

Looking back, I can find no fault with the story, the acting, or the themes. All were incredible. But maybe I wanted too much out of it. Having done so much research prior to the screening, naturally I had certain expectations. But I received something entirely different; I didn't feel how I wanted to feel. Reviewers and critics alike - yes, there is a difference - have drawn some parallels between this movie and other quirky dramas in the vein of Charlie Kauffman. I guess that's why I expected to be moved a great deal, like my last experience with existential, maybe-metafiction, courtesy of Cinema 10 (Ahem...) I find that such films can move me to tears, but Barthes' attempt did not. That is not to say that her debut wasn't beautiful. All of the messages were presented wonderfully, and as I said before, the ending was powerful in a way that I could never master in my art. Why, then, do I feel indifference?

I wonder if I did, indeed, miss something crucial. My brother didn't have to tell me how this picture moved him. It was noticeable in the absence of words, in the grimace that tried desperately to become positive. Others around me wore similar expressions, though I'm not totally convinced that they understood what they saw, either. The only conclusion that I can draw about this film is that it absolutely warrants a second viewing, perhaps a third. Though our souls can be condensed to chic-peas and easily contained, this film won't fit into any glass jar. It's much too deep and vast to be quickly examined and discarded.

Verdict: Not sure how Stoked I am. It might be an important film, but I can't say yet. Get back at me, or watch it for yourself. In fact, do the latter because you're going to draw your own conclusions no matter what I say. But Jesus God, man, respond to all of this and let me know. Someone set me straight.