Review: Blanchett keeps ‘Gray’ afloat

Geoff Carter

Friday, Jan. 25, 2002 | 9 a.m.

'Charlotte Gray'

"Looking back, it all seems so simple," says Charlotte Gray (Cate Blanchett), as she stares out a train window, deep in thought. "The Nazis were the enemy. Good must triumph over evil."

And as it turns out, "Charlotte Gray" is that simple. Gillian Armstrong's film is pure melodrama, a World War II yarn of a kind we haven't seen in years. It features occupied France, always rife with dramatic possibility. And the characters you'd expect to find there are all present: the beautiful yet resourceful courier (Blanchett), an irascible young communist and member of the resistance (Billy Crudup), and his gruff-yet-compassionate father (Michael Gambon).

"Charlotte Gray" is peppered with so many cliches of character and plot that it's hard to recall where those cliches originated. Almost immediately I gave up and concentrated on Blanchett, which is all too easy to do. She's got the face and eyes of a real movie star -- equal parts Veronica Lake and Marlene Dietrich -- and she's one of the best actors working today. She routinely outshines her material; I've more or less gotten used to it.

That said, "Charlotte Gray"-- scripted by Jeremy Brock and based on a novel by Sebastian Faulks -- tries gamely to stay anchored on Blanchett's cloud. As a bilingual courier who loses her lover, her initial contact and her grip on her mission almost immediately after she undertakes it, Blanchett lends the story weight, if not verisimilitude. Even when she's trying to evade capture, her perfect coif never loses its shape, and the only part of her that gets dirty is her coat.

When we see her brandishing a pistol, her eyes go cold and angry -- furious with both her enemy and being forced to take arms. You can see her wheels turning -- she always seems to be thinking two scenes ahead. And when she develops a soft spot for Gambon and the two young Jewish boys hidden in his house, you see her maternal streak -- untapped and deadly. It's obviously the part of her that has no trouble holding the gun.

Gambon also does an admirable job. It's wonderful to see him so emotive in "Charlotte Gray," considering the shameful way in which Robert Altman had him mumbling into his teacup for much of "Gosford Park." As Levarde, Gambon says only what he must, but still manages two bravura moments. He makes a show of cleaning out his pockets when the gendarmes demand his papers, and when he sits down to dinner with Blanchett, who's posing as his servant, he says matter-of-factly, "You may serve me now."

If "Charlotte Gray" were as bright as its two best performances, it would become a classic. But Crudup's noisy, unconvincing turn as Julien diminishes them, as it does Armstrong's direction and Stephen Warbeck's luminous score. Every time Crudup steps to the fore, "Charlotte Gray" loses momentum, as though he'd like to start the film over again so he can catch up. He doesn't seem to realize that in film, as in combat, there's no such thing as a false start.