The Two Faces of January

Adapted from the eponymously named Patricia Highsmith novel, the film opens in Athens, 1962, where American couple Chester and Colette McFarland (Viggo Mortesen and Kirsten Dunst) are exploring the Parthenon on a European holiday. With an easy chemistry and complementary linen outfits, the projection of a wealthy, charmed couple is complete and well-orchestrated.

We are soon introduced to polygot American student Rydal (Oscar Isaac), a dark and handsome tour guide who spends his spare time conning swooning debutantes for small change. An encounter with the couple leads to a market tour and subsequently dinner, where the attraction between Colette and Rydal begins to build. Later that evening Chester is confronted by a private investigator in his hotel room, as his shady past conning investors is revealed. He kills the PI and is discovered with the body by Rydal, who helps him move it and implicates himself in the process. Rydal then offers to help the couple obtain new passports and hide until they are ready, binding them together on an increasingly desperate journey through Crete.

The psychological undercurrents of the film are established almost immediately; Rydal is seen reading a letter about his father’s funeral, and soon after compares Chester to his father, establishing a Freudian dynamic that develops as the plot progresses. His attraction to Colette adds a further Oedipal element to the relationship, which seems fitting with the Greek setting. Meanwhile, the myth of Theseus and the Minotaur is referenced throughout, encouraging the viewer to question which of the two men is really the monster.

As a result, the first hour is fantastic – slowly and carefully plotted, with an apprehensive score which only serves to enhance the tension between the uncomfortable trio as they become overwhelmed by fear, paranoia and exhaustion. However, the final third and unsatisfactory ending drags it down to the realms of a shallow crime story, as both the characters and the plot begin to flail.

The problem is, the film utterly fails to develop the characters of Chester, Colette and Rydal beyond one-dimensional caricatures – the deadly husband, the silly wife, the handsome suitor. Deeper currents and motives are hinted at but never explained, leading the film to descend into a criminal caper where Chester and Rydal desperately compete to be the best criminal. By the final Bond-esque chase scene in Istanbul you half expect Ursula Andress to emerge from a carpet shop.

Inconsistencies also become glaringly obvious at this point, particularly the cream linen suit worn by Chester which manages to stay relatively respectable despite numerous scuffles and at least two weeks of constant wear. He doesn’t even lose his hat.

Hossein Amini has done a good job translating what is undoubtedly a novel centered around difficult, obscure characters onto the big screen, but unfortunately their unexplained motives rid the film of any deeper nuances.