Movie Review - In Secret

In Secret ** (PG-13) In this bleak, melodramatic period piece, Elizabeth Olsen plays the adult role of a girl whose father leaves her with an aunt (Jessica Lange) and her sickly son (Tom Felton) in rural France as the film opens. The two grow up in isolation, as she innocently shares a bed with her coughing cousin for a decade or so. When the absent father is lost at sea, leaving a modest stipend for Olsen, Lange decides the cousins will wed and all three move to Paris. Felton, by now a mama’s boy in a man’s body (still hacking and wheezing, too) gets a menial clerking job. Lange opens a shop, with Olsen’s unquestioning assistance. We also see that the young woman is barely able to keep a lid on womanly stirrings that her hapless hubby could never fulfill, or even recognize. (Side note - with the possible exception of Wyatt Earp’s pal, Doc Holiday, no character in film history lived so long with such a heavy chronic cough.) Enter Felton’s old pal Laurent (Oscar Isaac), a handsome pre-Bohemian artist. Chemistry with Olsen is sparked at first glance; eventually, a series of heated "nooners" follows.

Big passions in small spaces can cause bigger problems. They certainly do in this little tale. The erotic potential of the film, which never fully materializes into "potboiler" status, yields to a tragic plot of lovers seeking the light of day at great cost to all. Paris in the late 19th Century is depicted as a gray place, short on light and color - especially whenever Lange is on-screen, doting excessively on her son and relegating her niece to servant status, even though Olsen’s inheritance funded the move, and she’s dutifully wedded the good-natured twerp, as ordered. Well, that’s true until Laurent inspires her raging hormones to erupt. The guilt and grief parade dominating the last hour of the film includes some uncharacteristic overacting from Lange (from whom we all rightly expect better) and a lot of variations on hand-wringing, teeth gnashing and breast beating.

Director Charlie Stratton and/or the screenplay he co-authored waste the talents of gifted supporting players like Shirley Henderson, Mackenzie Crook and Matt Lucas, who could have energized these proceedings. Calling this poorly-executed attempt at an emotional morality tale Shakespeare Lite may be too generous. Recommending that one would be wise to consider other entertainment options might be more of a service to our faithful readers. (2/21/14)