Despite being two of the most gifted, sought-after actors in world cinema, it’s something of a surprise to see Colin Firth and Emily Blunt’s Arthur and Mike gain such a low-scale release, with little promotion behind director Dante Ariola’s star-studded, debut endeavour. However the further into this underwhelming picture you get the more apparent it becomes as to why this film has slipped under the radar somewhat, as despite those attached – Arthur and Mike is frustratingly, and overtly, unsubtle.
Firth plays Wallace Avery, a talented golfer who becomes disillusioned with life, and so one day decides to pack up, obtain a brand new identity (‘Arthur Newman’) and leave behind a wife and teenage son, without even the courtesy of a note. While he’s filed under the missing person register, he is in fact embarking on a road trip, seeking pastures new – before he stumbles across the emotionally unstable Charlotte (Blunt). She just so happens to be doing a similar thing herself, taking on her mentally ill twin sister’s identity, and calling herself ‘Mike’. The pair find solace in one another’s company, as two lost souls desperate for a way out of normality – which they do by breaking into people’s homes, and assuming their identities. However can Arthur and Mike really say goodbye to their old selves for good?
Ticking along at a steady pace, a quite major incident in the early stages shakes up the narrative completely, bearing comparisons to Margaret in that respect. The difference is, we don’t dwell on the situation at all, and the emotional implications are underplayed. It’s representative of a film that doesn’t explore the raw human emotion in any depth, and every time we do have a potential scene or moment that could be life-altering for our protagonists, before we’ve had the chance to really process it, we’ve hastily moved on, as a picture that struggles to reach its dramatic potential.
The ropey narrative is a constant source of frustration as far as this picture is concerned, as the premise itself is intriguing. Thankfully, however, the layered characters are illuminated by two great performances. Though both going through such emotional turmoil, Arthur, in particular, feels somewhat underwritten, yet it doesn’t prove to be too much of an issue, as Firth elevates this above the norm – while Blunt steals the show. However their fledging romance is not quite so easy to abide by, and in truth, is somewhat uncomfortable to witness. Initially, they have a quite paternal relationship, as Arthur cares for Mike as he would a daughter – and within the blink of an eye it becomes a sexual one. Such a disquieting atmosphere works in some respects, as it’s symbolic of two people not exactly in a fit state of mind – yet the way this picture is presented, insinuates that we’re to root for the romance and believe in it, which isn’t quite so easy.
Despite picking up on severe, profound themes that could make such fascinating territory, regrettably Ariola deviates carelessly away from realism, and at times when conversations are immensely poignant, they’re too cinematic and theatrical to be sincere, as a far more subtle, naturalistic turn would certainly be beneficial.
[Rating:2/5]
