The Sweet Smell of Success

There's a whiff of quixotic alchemy about Tom Tykwer's 'Perfume: The Story of a Murderer' that is personified in an excellent central performance by Ben Wishaw, and it's a theme that runs through this innovative and captivating story from the novel by Patrick Süskind, as we are introduced to a wonderfully drawn cast of characters, but it is the protagonist's deranged genius that holds the film together, bringing the viewer, quite literally, an original sense of perspective.

Arrayed around our anti-hero is a series of excellent turns from the likes of Dustin Hoffman as the mentoring perfumier; Alan Rickman as a concerned father; and David Calder as the Bishop of Grasse. Apart from Hoffman's role, and the comforting tones of John Hurt as the narrator, most of the supporting parts are brief, little more than vignettes in most cases, but they are always full of character and opportunity for expression which is seized by the players, and the accomplished script conveys so much through its looks and touches and expressions that the viewer forgets that the focus of the piece is a sense that is not available for them to experience.

Despite the eroticism evident in many scenes, and the presence of a bevy of beautiful young women who fall victim to the protagonist’s ministrations, the film never lapses into salaciousness, anchored in the Grenouille’s profound belief that he serves a higher purpose, portrayed with such depth by the stand-out Wishaw. Such are Grenouille’s powers of seduction, that those portraying his victims are, by and large, given more to do than simply cowering and screaming, and Rachel Hurd-Wood in particular is both intriguing and enchanting as Laura.

At every turn ‘Perfume...’ is surprising and rewarding, the perfect antidote to the usual dumb-and-dumber multiplex fodder, and it should be affirming to everyone’s love of cinema that gems like this are still possible in the face of rampant commercialism. It should not be forgotten that the film has a ‘15’ certificate, and BBFC Insight tells us that the film ‘Contains sexualised nudity and disturbing image.’ but as long as this is remembered, ‘Perfume’ is a must-see.

Thank you Doug, thank you Paul, thank you Robert

It would be easy to give too much credit to the excellent Bourne Trilogy for making an intellegent and sophisticated film like The International possible. It has become something of a cliche to give a heavy nod towards Doug Liman and Paul Greengrass, and their slick realisations of Robert Ludlum's source material whenever a thriller appears that is set anywhere east of Norwich, and to forget the films that went before like Funeral In Berlin, The Quiller Memorandum, The Third Man, to name but three, is regretable.

The International is however brilliantly constructed in its own right by Tom Tykwer, director of Run Lola Run and Perfume, and Clive Owen is excellent as the brooding investigator with a troubled past. Naomi Watts shines as always, pleasingly not glammed up as DA Eleanor Whitman (despite the obvious temptation), and Armin Mueller-Stahl brings effortless depth to insider Wilhelm Wexler.

The shoot out in the Guggenheim is a visceral centre piece. Owen's Salinger is no black ops killling machine, he is a man on a mission, driven to succeed at all costs. Indeed he and his temporary associates seem positively fragile as they scurry and dive to avoid the hail of gunfire that rips through the gallery set. There are further signs that Salinger is increasingly on the brink as events rattle forward, and Owen conveys that sense of running on the edge of control so well.

Like so many things in cinema, as in life, however it is the journey that is the real experience. So it is with The International, by the time it arrives at the denouement all the best scenes have passed. It is a disappointment that nothing better than a brief rooftop pursuit can be conjured up by Tykwer and writer Eric Singer - and the coup de grasse lacks true impact, despit the attempt at a twist.

But don't let this minor personal quibble put you off, The International is entirely worthy of 2 hours of your life, and desveres to be widely recommended to anyone who does not want to leave their brain in a jar in the cloakroom.