A Dangerous Method

As much as I love David Cronenberg, I've long since felt that psychologizing is not one of his great cinematic strengths. But it's something he loves to do, so I can't deny it's a passion for him. This interest of his is on dull display in A Dangerous Method and his surface-scratching approach has come along for the ride, too. Cronenberg is at his best when he can externalize fears, themes, and grotesque horrors, but a movie about Freud, Jung, and sexual repression is pretty much the definition of a whole lot of internalizing. So that's what we get with A Dangerous Method, a bland entry that fails to effectively showcase the three solid performances at its core and ends up feeling like a stuffy slog through a textbook.

The script, penned by Christopher Hampton and adapted from both his own stage play and a book by John Kerr, is a jumpy little affair that manages to spoil even the basic potential of its straightforward structure. This is the story of how Carl Jung (Michael Fassbender) took in deranged patient Sabina Spielrein (Keira Knightley), cured her, had an affair with her, and then got Sigmund Freud (Viggo Mortensen) all mixed up in their business. It's an opportunity for an engaging exploration of the psychoanalytic revolution unfolding at the beginning of the twentieth century, but it offers little more than some sharp dialogue and a grab bag of information about the duelling approaches that eventually fuelled a feud between Jung and Freud.

It feels like the kind of thing that could be gleaned from a few choice glances at a Wikipedia page covering the main characters. In fact, my well-versed father filled me in on some basic Freud and Jung background info prior to us watching the movie and, sure enough, everything he shared was there, right down to Freud's constant cigar chomping. Of course, the problem isn't that the information is so available and that the movie sticks to the facts (nothing wrong with that), but that A Dangerous Method fails to dig deeper and uncover any refreshing insight. Then again, my dad loved the movie, so consider that, too.

Since this movie basically amounts to a standard biopic in its construction, it would be nice to see Cronenberg try to break the mould and at least liven up the proceedings. But instead of securing the narrative and focusing on the thematic meat that is chewed on during various conversations, he adopts an episodic approach and lamely interprets Hampton's constant leaps forward in time, a stiff device that never allows the actors to really anchor their characters with enough conviction to make a lasting impression. The hurried fast forwarding of time (two years later, followed by two years later, and oh by the way, it's two years later) again undermines the efforts of the actors and further solidifies the sense of this being a snapshot of a dry history lesson.

The cast is very good and they're the reason the movie doesn't completely fall apart. Fassbender has been on an epic roll lately, playing parts in 2011 movies that range from brooding romantic partner (Jane Eyre) to superpowered mutant villain (X-Men: First Class) to tragic sex addict (Shame). Here he proves his considerable range once again with his solid turn as the often self-doubting Jung. At this point, it's as though Fassbender can do no wrong. He could take his chameleonic acting abilities to new heights by playing a lamp shade and he'd still make it convincing and watchable. He's an immense talent and this performance, while not his best of the year, acts as a nice capper.

Knightley is fantastic as the repressed Sabina, who is mostly in need of a good spanking. Okay, there's more to it than that and Knightley illuminates Sabina's issues without launching herself completely over the top. She's convincing throughout, but the script lets her down by using the time-skipping approach to facilitate abrupt flashes of growth for the character. Her arc is clumsy and rushed as a result. Regular Cronenberg collaborator Mortensen delivers a prickly portrayal of Freud and he's believable on one hand and underdeveloped on the other, completing the pattern that fails the trifecta of stars.

While I expect Cronenberg's attempt at dissecting psychology to leave me cold and clinically detached, it still comes as a surprise that he essentially refuses to inject any creativity into his latest movie. He sticks so closely to the stringent rules of the biopic and puts forth such a lazy attempt at emotional fluency that A Dangerous Method hobbles along with no imagination and barely hints that such a potentially interesting filmmaker is behind the camera. Considering I also dislike his Crash and Spider and even Eastern Promises to a degree, I guess I just like my Cronenberg served with a hearty dose of sci-fi. I miss that Cronenberg, but I can't deny that he has succeeded rather brilliantly outside of that genre. He tackled the brute force of a man pushed to the edge and forced to unearth the skills to do something about it in A History of Violence, resulting in one of his best movies.

So I still love Cronenberg and always will. But A Dangerous Method is so flaccid (interpret that as you will, Mr. Freud!) and uninspired. Not exactly words I usually use to describe his movies. And the cast is quite excellent, so I can't dismiss their accomplishments. I just remain entirely underwhelmed by the decisions of the screenwriter and director to reduce this story to a drab biopic more interested in slavishly following a rickety path than in forging a meaningful connection between the characters. The actors do their part, but they're left stranded. This movie could certainly benefit from some unhinged imagination. Would it have killed Cronenberg to transform Freud into a fly or lend Jung the ability to explode people's heads with his mind or give Sabina abnormal genitalia (Cronenberg's fascination with weird sex stuff does suggest a connection with Freud)? I kid, of course. None of those suggestions would be appropriate or sensible here, but then again, at least they'd externalize all that internal angst.