This served as both a tribute to star Natasha Richardson (whose life was tragically cut short last week at just 45 years old) and a belated one in honor of celebrated playwright Harold Pinter (here functioning as a screenwriter adapting somebody else's novel). Considered a psychological thriller although, for the most part, it plays like a drama with erotic undertones my decision to watch it on the day allotted to the former genre certainly paid off given the shocking twist ending. Being set in Venice, it also evoked strong memories of my memorable fortnight's stay there for the 2004 Film Festival. The film is arty and deliberately-paced, but intriguing (if hardly original) and exceedingly well-cast: Christopher Walken (often resorting to hamminess elsewhere, he is quietly chilling here), Richardson (beautiful, obviously talented and truly the image of her mother, Vanessa Redgrave) and Rupert Everett as the couple he ensnares (for kicks) and Helen Mirren as his seemingly reluctant but eventually revealed to be just as ruthless wife/accomplice. Director Schrader, of course, had started off as a writer himself and he wisely leaves the actors (and, by extension, the script) to their own devices. To get back to Richardson's death for a moment, a number of striking parallels are to be found in the film: the central couple are on a vacation (which is what she was doing at the time of her untimely demise), her character has two children (as she did in real-life), and the Walkens intended leaving Venice for Canada (the place of Richardson's fatal skiing accident)!!
Review of The Comfort of Strangers
