When an excellent cast turn in strong performances - David Tennant, Elizabeth Moss and Gabriel Byrne are all outstanding in the lead roles - how can you end up with an unimpressive, unaffecting film? Can't be the subject matter - RD Laing was a fascinating, divisive, bold, brilliant, reckless public intellectual whose opinions and ideas about psychiatry and society challenged the established order of, well... everything.
I'm sorry to say responsibility for this mediocre, somewhat messy film lies with writer/director Robert Mullan. The dialogue is often cliched, the scenes poorly constructed and the direction oddly distant and static. All of which makes for a rather uninvolving experience, which is a great pity given the talent at his disposal not to mention the compelling story there to be told. There's simply no real point of view to get hold of.
Laing's work remains acutely controversial, genuinely reaching for something even he as a highly qualified practitioner with a highly original brain and skilled writer could not quite realise. There's an argument his deep insights were too far ahead of his time, but equally he might just have been so damaged, deluded and egocentric that he didn't care who or what got broken. Some of that is there in the film but despite the warm colour palette this exploration of a more interesting British counterpart to the likes of Timothy Leary and Arthur Janov fails to engage, and leaves you cold.
I'm sorry to say responsibility for this mediocre, somewhat messy film lies with writer/director Robert Mullan. The dialogue is often cliched, the scenes poorly constructed and the direction oddly distant and static. All of which makes for a rather uninvolving experience, which is a great pity given the talent at his disposal not to mention the compelling story there to be told. There's simply no real point of view to get hold of.
Laing's work remains acutely controversial, genuinely reaching for something even he as a highly qualified practitioner with a highly original brain and skilled writer could not quite realise. There's an argument his deep insights were too far ahead of his time, but equally he might just have been so damaged, deluded and egocentric that he didn't care who or what got broken. Some of that is there in the film but despite the warm colour palette this exploration of a more interesting British counterpart to the likes of Timothy Leary and Arthur Janov fails to engage, and leaves you cold.