Seberg – first look review | Little White Lies

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Seberg – first look review

30 Aug 2019

Words by David Jenkins

A person with blond hair and green eyes gestures towards the camera with a serious expression.
A person with blond hair and green eyes gestures towards the camera with a serious expression.
This thin biopic of New Wave icon Jean Seberg plays out with all the depth of a mag­a­zine pho­to shoot.

It brings us no plea­sure what­so­ev­er to deliv­er the news that Seberg, a stilt­ed and slight biopic of the Iowa-born screen icon Jean Seberg, is some­thing of a train­wreck. Part of the prob­lem is the cast­ing of Kris­ten Stew­art in the title role who, despite her best efforts, is just unable to cap­ture the twin­kle-eyed spir­it of the soft-fea­tured, imp-haired star of films like Jean-Luc Godard’s Breath­less and Otto Preminger’s Bon­jour Tristesse. If feels like we’re watch­ing Stew­art insert­ing her own per­sona into this sto­ry, and per­haps even pounc­ing on the polit­i­cal­ly ripe mate­r­i­al to air some of her own (entire­ly valid) griev­ances with regard to pri­va­cy and the polit­i­cal lives of celebrities.

The time­line here cov­ers a brief sojourn Seberg spent in Hol­ly­wood at the behest of her agent, who was look­ing to cash-on on her dar­ling sta­tus in Europe and plant her into some quick­ie genre movies. She leaves her hus­band and son back in Paris and she boards a Pan-Am flight to LA on which she meets the black pow­er activist Hakim Jamal (Antho­ny Mack­ie), and decides to dou­ble down on her pas­sion for donat­ing large sums of mon­ey to rad­i­cal polit­i­cal fac­tions fight­ing for equal­i­ty in Amer­i­ca. The sub­text to all this is that, per the estab­lish­ment, she’s open­ly fram­ing her­self as an ene­my of con­ser­v­a­tive white Amer­i­ca, so enter the FBI and her pro­longed per­se­cu­tion at the hands of the suit­ed and boot­ed deputies of Uncle Sam.

Jack O’Connell puts in a sol­id turn as FBI sound guy Jack Soloway, an expert wire tap­per who is assigned to col­lect as much mate­r­i­al he can on Seberg – any­thing to but­tress claims that she is a polit­i­cal whack job. And from that set-up, the film plays out in the most pedes­tri­an way pos­si­ble, as Jean’s ini­tial con­fi­dence and pride in her abil­i­ty to express her­self in this way shifts towards para­noia and then depres­sion. Mean­while, Jack starts to realise that maybe record­ing every move­ment of a vul­ner­a­ble pub­lic fig­ure is per­haps not work­ing won­ders for her men­tal health.

The film mean­ders from scene to scene, with much of the dia­logue com­ing across as the actors mere­ly artic­u­lat­ing the themes or ref­er­enc­ing the cul­tur­al cli­mate of the era. There’s no real dra­mat­ic dri­ve, emo­tion or unex­pect­ed twists, no visu­al flour­ish­es or any for­mal inter­est beyond a vast array of impos­si­bly glam­orous cos­tumes. Stew­art spends much of the film attempt­ing to look sul­try in bil­low­ing see-through neg­ligees, but these attempts at atmos­phere only serve to high­light the over­all thin­ness of the mate­r­i­al. Or at least the attempts made by Bene­dict Andrews to pre­vent things from get­ting too dark.

One bright spot is Vince Vaughn in a sup­port­ing role as a com­plete bas­tard. He plays Jack’s part­ner Carl, who takes a spite­ful glee in caus­ing Seberg immense pain with his under­hand method­ol­o­gy. As Jack becomes more and more ner­vous about the moral imper­a­tives of his job, Carl just wants to go as dark and nasty as pos­si­ble. And Vaughn is per­haps the only actor in this glossy mis­fire who feels whol­ly com­fort­able in his role – as an unre­pen­tant, back­wards-look­ing shitdog.

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