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The girl who had it all... is not real
Simone surpasses the limits of disbelief
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Jeet Thayil
There is a great scene towards the end of Simone when Winona Ryder (as the temperamental star Nicola Anders) is auditioning for a role. She stands inches away from Al Pacino (playing twice-nominated-never-won director Viktor Taransky) and begins speaking her lines.
In an instant, she is transformed from fresh-faced diva to tormented lover in a tragic triangle. Her lines may be cliched, but she breathes new and vital life into every word she utters.
Watching her we know she is simply an actress playing an actress auditioning for a role. Such is the power of her art that we believe every word and such is the power of her craft that we hang onto those words as if we are hanging onto life support.
Ryder's appearance is little more than a cameo. She is on screen for all of five or so minutes. But such is her performance during the audition scene that we are willing to forgive her her trespasses. We forgive her recent troubles with the law. We become her most ardent slaves.
Pacino is similarly transported. (In fact, more so: Ryder grabs him by the lapels and kisses him deeply while in character.) He is momentarily stunned. He loses track of his mission. He has been affected by the power of art.
What the scene is really doing is telling us everything we have ever wanted to know about redemption. It tells us why we sit in the dark in cavernous halls intently watching figures on a faraway screen. It tells us about the sweet opium of movies and how much we crave it.
If only the rest of Simone was similarly inclined. Though billed as a satire, the movie fails to engage on any level except the faintly comedic. Taranksy, a washed-up director, digitalises Simone, or Sim(ulation) One.
The advantages are obvious: unlike the impossible Nicola, she throws no tantrums; she does her own stunts, even if it means falling from a helicopter; she doesn't mind nude scenes; she doesn't fight about billing or money or the size of her trailer. Most of all she worships her director and leaves herself in his hands, eager to help further his vision.
But in the same way that Simone does not make scenes, except flawless cinematic ones into which she is digitally inserted, she cannot transport us in the way Ryder so effortlessly can. Ryder's art is human, it is born out of pain; it takes us to the place where great art resides. Simone cannot.
Once digitalised, Simone stars in Taransky's next picture. She becomes a great international phenomenon. There is a fragrance in her name; she is on the cover of countless magazines; she makes it to talk shows; she wins the Oscar. Her fans obsess over her in the way the fans of Greta Garbo or the Beatles did. Of course her fans and studio have no idea she is not human.
Simone, the movie, shows us scenes from the movies in which Simone has appeared. Her beauty is so flawless it is lifeless. Taransky knows this. At one point, his fingers flying over the keyboard, he even provides his creation with a blemish on her perfect skin. It does not work. There is nothing human, meaning wretched, about Simone. And as we all know, beauty must be flawed to inspire true devotion.
For fans of the movies, there are wonderful insights into the way they are made. Catherine Keener, playing Taransky's ex-wife and studio boss Elaine Christian, tells Taransky to make sure a scene in which Simone falls from a helicopter is the last one to be filmed. She does not have to say that the studio is simply making sure it will not suffer if Simone's stuntwoman abilities are not up to par.
There are frequent allusions to a host of old-time Hollywood deities. Taransky trawls scenes from Breakfast At Tifanny's to give Simone some of Audrey Hepburn's luminous smile. Others are invoked, from Marilyn to Ernest Borgnine. And when Hollywood royalty is exhausted, mere royalty steps in: a funeral cortege for Simone takes some of its grandeur from Princess Diana's.
This is writer-director Andrew Niccol's third project. He was the writer-director of Gattaca and writer-producer of The Truman Show. Whereas those two films had an edge that created some excitement, there is no edge to Simone.
Niccol goes to great technical lengths to convince us that Simone is real. Rachel Roberts is not listed in the acting credits and we are told Simone was played by herself. The website stretches that idea as far as it can go. It lists her latest book (101 Ways to Joy) and how to catch her world tour (she is a multi-platinum singer). Why bother? There are limits even to disbelief.
Also read:
An earlier review of Simone
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