The Voices (2014)

I've always had rather mixed feelings about the graphic novel Persepolis, to tell the truth. A lot of people seem to think this autobiographical story of a young girl growing up during Iran's Islamic revolution is practically seminal, and I can see their point. I've always tried to source a copy for any young adult libraries I've worked in purely because of the way it brings important historical events to such vivid life, and on a personal note, I adore the stark simplicity of the black and white artwork.

It's just that, well, Marjane Satrapi struck me as being particularly self-absorbed, even for somebody writing their autobiography. As the story progressed and the historical landscape grew less fractured, I found her an increasingly irritating character to the point where I decided I could probably live without the second instalment.

Still, when I heard she'd started directing, I couldn't deny a certain degree of curiosity, and dark comedy The Voices, her most recent effort, seemed like as good a starting point as any. Besides, people were raving about Ryan Reynolds' performance, and I couldn't help but feel warmed by the compassion of anybody who'd allow him an acting gig after his performance in The Green Lantern. 

Here he stars as Jerry, a packing and shipping worker at a bathroom fittings company in Milton, the sort of generically American, picture-postcard little town that's practically traditional for the genre. Jerry's a sweet guy, if a little socially awkward; he's good at his job, and privately in love with Fiona from accounting (Gemma Arterton), whilst remaining oblivious to the attentions of the slightly mousier Lisa (Anna Kendrick), who clearly adores him.

So far, so romcom, and that's what we think we're getting, right up until the point where Jerry goes home and his cat starts swearing at him like a sailor. Mr. Whiskers has a heck of an attitude, and it's a good thing that Jerry's canine pal Bosco is there to stick up for him. Whiskers is charismatic, though, and knows how to make a point, no matter what Jerry's friendly shrink Dr. Warren might say.

When a date with Fiona goes awry and Jerry lands up with her severed head in his fridge, he finds himself forced to ponder some important questions, not the least of which the one Fiona's head keeps asking about when he'll find her a friend to keep her company...

The good

I was struck by the sheer craftsmanship of this one, and most especially the cinematography. There's a definite edge of magic realism here, and clever lighting and prop use give constant and amusing visual cues as to Jerry's state of mind. Watching it, I felt the same sense of vague bedazzlement that I do with the films of Danny Boyle - how did the team know how to position every single object and actor in the shot in such a stunning way? I suspect this may have been due in no small part to Satrapi's background as a graphic novelist.

Performances were good, too - granted, Reynolds is cross-eyed and gormless, but on this occasion it's probably what was required. I was quite impressed by his vocal work on the talking animals, too. As Fiona, Gemma Arterton is the required embodiment of perfidious Albion, coquettish and haughty by turns but utterly reptilian throughout. Anna Kendrick, meanwhile, plays Lisa as another of her sweet natured naifs, and it's hard to understand why she only turns Jerry's head once Fiona is out of the picture.

The bad

Firstly, let's not mince words: the script simply isn't up to scratch. The basic concept is a funny one, but the dialogue and storytelling are so clumsy the rob the movie of a lot of its potential bite. Sure, I smiled from time to time and even giggled on occasions, but this is a genre that trades on shock value and I never once felt even remotely scandalized.

This is a minor gripe, however, compared to my main problem with The Voices, which is its absolutely disgusting treatment of the subject of mental illness in general and schizophrenia in particularly. We've seen progress in recent years, I think; people are talking about mental health issues more and more, and in recent years we've seen an outcry over the likes of 'insane mental patient' Hallowe'en costumes and the use of ableist language.

The Voices, however, takes us straight back to the dark ages, giving us a protagonist who hears voices telling him to kill people and then does so, before (spoiler) allowing himself to die in what the movie suggests is an act likely to be the only way by which he can achieve inner peace. I'm not sure whether Satrapi or anybody else involved thought they might have a profound point to make by occasional mentions of religion; to my mind it seemed tacked on to try and bring intellectual credibility to what really isn't a terribly smart movie by any standards. It's a retrograde step, and having been oppressed herself, I can't help but think Satrapi might have shown a little more compassion.

The verdict

There's a lot to like about The Voices, but only from a distance; sure, on casual viewing it's pleasantly nasty, but strip away the gorgeous visuals and you're left with a hate-peddling and slightly dimwitted comedy popcorn flick that frustrates where it could have delighted.