In cinemas now [M]

Director: Sophie Barthes

Runtime: 101mins

It’s inevitable that Sophie Barthes’s debut film Cold Souls will be compared to certain other films – the kind of films that tend to polarise people – so let’s get it out of the road: Cold Souls sits very comfortably on the shelf beside films like Being John Malkovich and Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind. There. It’s said. So if you didn’t like either of these films, it’s probably a good idea not to read on. If you did like getting into Malkovich’s head or fantasised about a spotless mind, I’m confident you’ll get a kick out of Cold Souls. This despite the fact that Barthes is on record as avoiding the comparison to Charlie Kaufman: "He’s much more cynical, sarcastic, and twisted." And there is less of a cynical edge in her first film, although it’s hard to argue that there is any less despair and desperation.

In the absence of Woody Allen – who apparently appeared in a dream that inspired the film – Barthes cast the much younger, but similarly angst-ridden Paul Giamatti to play a version of himself struggling to come to grips with the title role in Chekov’s Vanya. As a last resort, Giamatti responds to an advertisement that offers the opportunity to remove and store his soul, and thereby rid himself of that troublesome angst.

After the softly spoken and eminently reassuring Dr Flintstein (David Strathairn) performs said service, Giamatti realises that being soulless isn’t quite what he expected, and in desperation at the reaction to poor rehearsals, resorts to ‘renting’ the soul of a Russian poet in order to find the right angle on Vanya. Which is where the mysterious, and vaguely tragic Nina (Dina Korzun) enters the picture as a Russian ‘mule’, who smuggles souls back and forth across borders.

Despite a convincing CAT-like scanner being used to extract the souls – in a very successful running gag, Giamatti is appalled to discover his soul looks exactly like a chickpea – the science thankfully takes a backseat in Cold Souls, and simply encourages us to come to terms with the very existential and esoteric idea of what it would be like to live without a soul. Barthes layers in some beautiful and poignant references to the desperate lengths to which people will go to cope with their lives, and has gathered an excellent supporting cast, including the bemused Emily Watson as Giamatti’s wife.

***½

TIM MILFULL