"We all complete."

"Never Let Me Go"

Never Let Me Go is a film with a bit of a secret. Not really considering the very telling opening scene. Surprising then how far publicity for the film has gone not to speak the premise at the core of director Mark Romanek's adaptation of the novel by Kazuo Ishiguro. Maybe it was not mystery they were after but nondisclosure of its grim conceit. I will spell it out, as the film does, right away. Kathy (Cathy), Tommy (Andrew Garfield), and Ruth (Keira Knightley) are walking, talking, thinking, breathing, loving organ farms. Created from existing people, mostly junkies and convicts they say, these three and many others live sheltered, uncomplicated lives. They attend a school called Hailsham at which they live oblivious to their doomed futures. Until one day a new teacher, Miss Lucy (Sally Hawkins) is compelled to spill the beans. They grow older and embrace their role in life. Sometime in their mid-to-late 20s, before time has done damage to their bodies, they will each begin to donate vital organs one at a time, until they "complete." If you are lucky you will "complete" sooner rather than later because the more donations you make, the more insufferable your existence becomes.

Romanek, with just two feature film projects, has set a certain standard for chilly, inward looking photography. His focus here, as in One Hour Photo, is to portray the unspoken pall over these characters' whole lives. His visual reservations reflect a restraint of human impulse, a world without soul whose surface is drab and gray. Unfortunately, for all its technical craft, these same choices also strip away the fun, the verve, the vigor. We cannot get into the minds of these characters or the world of this film because it is so artfully stripped of everything we could possibly relate to ourselves as an audience. It's representation of period, from an alternate 1980s onward, is idiosyncratic to say the least. It exists as a static old-fashioned place in which children speak like robots and wear perfect school uniforms. They play with scrappy wooden dolls and listen to cassette tapes of music which sounds like it was recorded in this reality's 1960s. There don't seem to be personal computers or technology devices of any kind. Except for the advanced dog leash chips in their arms which scan them in and out of Hailsham, keeping tabs on the product. These empty children then mature into adults none of whom ever seem to want more for themselves than to have sex and “complete.” They discover television, which in this or any reality seems to contain only trash sitcoms. They are allowed day trips beyond the boundaries of their living complex. Yet no on ever seems to think...what if I just ran away? The idea is never mentioned.

We have not yet even gotten to the film’s head spinning cross generic novelty. It is science fiction filmed through the lens of Masterpiece Theatre. It takes time to get used to and once I was used to it, I determined that I did not care for it one bit. The notion of stripping science fiction of its futuristic shininess is perfectly respectable but to replace this not with a vivid humanity but with a stylized glob of fantastical soap opera further deadens the heart of the picture. So often it feels exhausted under the weight of its own melodramatic energies. There is a beautiful allegory somewhere in here, with lovely performances by Mulligan, Hawkins and the cast. Its final conclusion, that “donors” are not all that different from the rest of the world. That everyone accepts the social contract that they will have life and then, eventually, death. This frames everything in a better light. It makes the film feel momentarily vibrant and human as does the whole final act in which love and passion are actually spoken of and capitalized upon in ways with impact. Unfortunately, it’s just not enough to make this sometimes good, always unusual film honestly worth recommending, When Andrew Garfield’s Tommy goes ballistic with a giant throaty wail at the side of the road, it registers not as a welcome relief to all the prior stoic tolerance of pain but instead as too much too late. You cannot go from a whisper to a scream. Somewhere in between there must be a relatable, compelling conversation.

Ivan does not smile