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Jung and Restless

To look at the poster for "A Dangerous Method", you might think it's a lush period piece about the woman who came between two of the world's most famous psychologists - Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung. The film is also directed by David Cronenberg, so you might expect a film that explores the kinky underpinnings of the Freudian "a cigar ain't just a cigar" mentality.

Well, don't be fooled. Indeed, "Method" is an lush period piece - exquisitely and meticulously shot by Mr. Cronenberg and cinematographer Peter Suschitzky. But Dr. Freud (played deliciously by Viggo Mortensen) hardly appears in the first half of the film. Instead, the film focuses on young Dr. Jung (Michael Fassbender from "X-Men: First Class") and his unhealthy relationship with an extremely unhealthy young patient, Sabina Spielrein (Keira Knightley).

Now I'm no psychologist, but I have a pretty good idea as to the cause of Sabina's condition - wild mood swings, screaming fits, manic facial contortions. It seems to me that these symptoms can be traced directly to a case of excessive scenery-chewing. We can hardly blame Ms. Knightley, an Oscar darling all but confined to corsets and bonnets over the years. She's not a bad actress, but in "Method" she seems to have been given free reign to indulge her worst instincts to overact - particularly in the early scenes when her character is fully off her rocker. Ms. Knightley sputters, contorts, and otherwise makes clear that she's seven levels of crazy. It doesn't help that the actress is distractingly thin. If the camera adds ten pounds, I imagine this poor woman must be see-through in real life.

"Method" is adapted from the book by John Kerr, and takes place over the course of several years across Vienna and Switzerland. Letters are written (in voice-over) between Freud and Jung and the (sadly few) scenes between the two men hint at a kind of psychoanalytical "King's Speech" that could've been. But instead we get more of a by-the-numbers early 1900s "Fatal Attraction" - albeit an extremely literate one.

The film's saving grace is in its two lead actors. Mr. Mortensen, in particular, has a blast as Freud - first seen smoking a cigar (natch). The actor finds an easy rhythm playing the elder statesman (sounding oddly similar to late-era Malcolm McDowell). Perhaps the prosthetic nose and graying temples allowed him some freedom from the shackles of being cast as the sex symbol in previous films. Meanwhile, Mr. Fassbender is a revelation as Jung. He's a picture of slowly unravelling restraint, as he falls prey to the exact urges he protests against. It's a bit obvious, yes, but the nuances in the actor's performance make it worth watching.

Regardless of his choice of material, Mr. Cronenberg leaves himself open to analysis. Aside from a few select spanking scenes, there's little of what we've come to expect from the man who brought us the gynecological nightmare "Dead Ringers" and the orifice-obessed "Videodrome". "Method" appears to be a straightforward Oscar bid. And for once, in a Cronenberg film, I fail to see the madness in his "Method".