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 In cinemas from Thursday [M]
Director: Steve Jacobs
Runtime: 120mins
Based on J. M. Coetzee’s Booker-winning novel, Disgrace tells the story of a South African literature professor named David Lurie (John Malkovich) who seduces one of his students, as every professor having a mid-life crisis is obliged to. After word gets out that he’s sleeping with Melanie (Antoinette Engel), a student less than half his age, the university forms a committee to rub David’s nose in the scandal like he’s a dog who has been bad. He bristles against their attempt to elicit a public apology and instead flees to the country with his tail between his legs. There, he stays at the smallholding owned by his struggling daughter Lucy (Jessica Haines), who also runs a dog kennel. Her neighbour and employee Petrus (Eriq Ebouaney) introduces himself as the dog-man and David and Lucy even have a conversation comparing their situation to that of the country’s dogs.
It’s not subtle is what I’m saying. The overuse of this one metaphor ultimately wears it out. At the start of the film David attempts to explain the meaning behind romantic poetry to his disinterested students and it’s as if the film doesn’t want to be similarly misunderstood. Instead, it shoves that one device to the forefront where it’s unavoidable.
The highlight of the movie is the way that prim-mouthed Malkovich’s flight to the country seems like the setup for a story about the healing powers of rural scenery and honest small-town folk – like Northern Exposure set in South Africa – before showing itself to have a much darker intent. Disgrace wasn’t a cheerful book and hasn’t been turned into a cheerful movie. Its portrayal of rural post-Apartheid South Africa shows a place that’s still divided along lines of race, just in different ways, and where forgetfulness has become a virtue. The movie takes the book’s obfuscated racial politics – where a group of criminals are called countrymen to clue you in that they’re black and a policeman’s blond hair is mentioned as a way of telling you he’s white – and makes them plain.
It’s mostly faithful to the book to a fault though, including some very bookish dialogue that sounds strangely off-kilter. It’s a shame that it doesn’t diverge further, because the direction certainly shows flair – if gorgeously shot panoramas of the African countryside are your thing, add an extra star to the score.
**½
JODY MACGREGOR
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