“Freud’s obsession with sex has to do with the fact that he never gets any.”
The H-Bomb: One would think that A Dangerous Method, a film about how early twentieth-century psychologists Carl Jung and Sigmund Freud developed “The Talking Cure,” or psychoanalysis, would be the ideal marriage of director and material. After all, many of Canadian auteur David Cronenberg’s past films (Crash, Dead Ringers, Naked Lunch), have examined not just the psychological and the sexual, but the psycho-sexual; those whose tastes and desires fall outside the normal bump n’ grind. It would seem that if anyone could make this subject into a compelling and provocative film, it would be him. Unfortunately, Cronenberg’s film isn’t all that compelling or provocative, it’s not even all that interesting. Instead, it’s a rather dry, talkative affair that’s a tad aloof, to boot.
That’s not to imply that A Dangerous Method, adapted by Christopher Hampton from his play The Talking Cure, which in turn is based on the book A Most Dangerous Method by John Kerr, is a complete failure, as it does feature some fine performances (with one exception I’ll get to shortly), as well as a premise that is intriguing for awhile. It’s certainly well crafted, with individual aspects that are impressive; like Howard Shore’s evocative score, and Peter Suschizky’s painting-like cinematography. There most definitely is an intelligence behind it all, but as a whole, it’s curiously unsatisfying.
The story, again, focuses on how Dr. Jung (Michael Fassbender) and Dr. Freud (Viggo Mortensen) develop a new form of therapy by examining both the conscious, what we’re actively doing/thinking/feeling, and the subconscious, mainly by analyzing dreams. Jung and Freud develop a protégé/mentor relationship, as the former’s current research seems to be a natural extension of the latter’s.
But as the years wear on, they start to diverge in both their beliefs and practices; Freud believes that deep down our psyches are based solely on sexual desires, Jung does not. Jung wants to make spiritual/religion a part of psychoanalysis, whereas Freud thinks it should be purely science based, since those in the scientific community are having a hard enough time accepting this new kind of psycho-therapy without the whole mystical angle. Also, Freud feels psychoanalysis should be used simply as a research tool to understand neuroses, whereas Jung wants to actually cure his patients.
It’s these differing views that drive them further apart over time, as we see what was a productive friendship turn into a polite, but rather tense rivalry. As stated earlier, the correspondence and conversations between Jung and Freud are of interest at first, but after awhile they become repetitive, and the endless psycho-babble becomes downright tiring to listen to. That they argue with each other in such a calm and formal manner raises the level of dramatic tension to . . . absolutely nothing.
But it’s not just their different opinions on the specifics of psychoanalysis that drives our two legendary shrinks further and further apart, there’s also Jung’s relationship to one of his patients, Russian born Sabina Spielrein (Keira Knightley). She’s a frothing-at-the-mouth whack job who comes to Jung, and he treats her with his experimental new methods, where she admits to becoming sexually excited while being spanked by daddy at a young age. Over the next several years, Sabina becomes an analyst herself as she and Jung wind up consulting together, and eventually an affair between the damaged girl and the good doctor starts. What would Freud think of this affair if he found out? Could that be the one thing that ends their friendship which is already only hanging by a thread.
I can tell you how I felt about it by the time the film got to that point . . . I truly did not care! Like I said, the film is about as dramatically flat as Keira Knightley’s boobies, which we do get to see, with an overly talky script that gets so bogged down in philosophical debates, with bullshit jargon that ultimately just makes the viewer tune out before heads start exploding, ala Cronenberg‘s superior Scanners. Fassbender, whom I first saw in Inglourious Basterds, and seems to be popping up all over the place lately, does well as Jung, a well mannered, intelligent, professional man on the surface, who is insecure and susceptible to his desires underneath.
Mortensen, who deserved more screen time than he had, delivers a finely tuned, subtly charismatic turn as Freud, who at one point makes a self-deprecating joke there’s no topic that’s inappropriate for discussion in front of his children, since there’s really no perverse topic that hasn’t already been discussed in their presence. Mortensen is one of those actor’s who can truly play anything; redneck, Russian mobster, sword-wielding hero of Middle Earth, Sigmund Freud . . . anything. He has done his best work with Cronenberg over recent years, and he is easily the best thing about this film.
Which brings me to the worst thing about this film, aside from the script that doesn’t have one iota of emotional tension or engaging conflict, the performance by one Keira Knightley. Now, it’s weird, because her performance isn’t bad throughout, she actually does get better as the movie progresses. But in the first act of the movie, when she’s a total nutcase, Holy God, is she awful! With over-the-top jerky body movements and facial contortions, and that she shouts every line of dialogue that she has in a jittery, crazy voice, she gives the term over-acting a whole new meaning. It’s easy to see what’s wrong, and it’s not her, but again, the script. This was a stage play, and she is giving a stage performance for the screen, and it is just way too much. She really needed to dial it down, and someone – like her director, maybe – should have told her to do exactly that.
This was a difficult review to write, as Cronenberg is one of my favorite directors. Whether it’s one of his warped, deliciously sick sci-fi/horror flicks, or one of his more mainstream efforts, he usually delivers the goods. But this time, he only half-delivered. A number of his recurring themes are present, but they’re in a script that’s cold and clinical, where such things as human emotion are non-existent. It pains me to say, that of the films Cronenberg has made since the new millennium (Spider, A History of Violence, Eastern Promises) this is easily his worst. Those interested in Freud, Jung, and their school of thought may get more out of A Dangerous Method, but the rest of us, especially fans of this truly unique director, will more than likely be under-whelmed and perhaps a little bored. And a movie featuring the world’s kinkiest shrink should never, ever be boring!
