Up at the Villa

(Philip Haas, USA/UK, 2000)

The comparison made in the publicity between Up at the Villa and Tea with Mussolini (1999) is not terribly apt. Sure, we have an expatriate community in Florence, living out the last days of its privilege while, around them, the storm clouds of wartime history gather. And we also have Anne Bancroft as a bitchy, glamorous matron holding court and observing all with a keen eye.

Up at the Villa, however, is a much more sombre drama than Zeffirelli's lightweight memoir. Directed by Philip Haas (Angels and Insects, 1995), it is primarily a study of the tangle into which Mary (Kristin Scott Thomas) descends after she lets go of her British reserve and involves herself with Karl (Jeremy Davies), an Austrian refugee.

Mary is in fact caught between Karl and two other men – her older, entirely respectable fiancée, Sir Edgar (James Fox), and the caddish Rowley (Sean Penn), who is able to exploit any situation to his advantage. Just as Mary allows herself to be swayed, in turn, by the values that each of these three chaps represent, she also falls prey to the social influence wielded by the Princess (Bancroft).

In most hands, W. Somerset Maugham's novella, with its elements of death and illicit love, would have provided the opportunity for all-out melodrama. As cannily adapted by Belinda Haas, the tale is handled in a cool, deliberate, somewhat detached manner.

It is a story of secrets, furtive cover-ups, subtle misunderstandings and psychological ambiguities – and, as such, it is far closer to understated mystery-thrillers of the '40s like Fritz Lang's The Woman in the Window (1944), or the contemporary films of André Téchiné, than the extravagant, Technicolour weepies of the '50s so often emulated today.

Up at the Villa is a quiet achiever. Its sense of time and place, gradual unfolding of information and grasp of characterisation are unostentatiously excellent. The actors are well blended into a smooth ensemble: Thomas has not had a role this good in years, while Bancroft conveys with precision the Princess' turn from brittle humour to stern disapproval.

Penn, cast against type, adopts a fruity accent that sometimes hints at self-parody, but he captures well the enigmatic mix of attractiveness, menace and amorality that constitutes the enigma of Rowley's personality.

MORE Haas: The Music of Chance

© Adrian Martin September 2000