4: Signs and Wonders

            Thinking about the ending of Jonathan Nossiter’s Signs and Wonders (2000), I can’t help but recall an exercise that is common in undergraduate creative writing classes (including screenwriting).  Multiple participants are asked to write three unrelated elements onto separate scraps of paper.  The scraps are then shuffled or placed into a hat, and each participant then draws three out of the collection.  Then each is asked to compose a story that includes all three elements.  The exercise, to my understanding, has two distinct benefits. 

First, it challenges writers to draw together narrative elements, themes, or objects which they, theoretically, would otherwise not have chosen to connect together.  This, if approached as the course’s instructor’s hope, strengthens the participants’ ability to make connections, which is essentially the art of good storytelling.  Second, and sometimes more beneficial to the students, is that it opens their minds to the possibility that inspiration can come from multiple sources, and that in connecting those elements (again, the art) they have forced themselves to create a story, where before there may have only been writers block.  Writing this now, I’m developing the assumption that reviving this exercise may be how many science fiction writers deal with that particular affliction, even long after commencement.

ANYWAY, the end of Signs and Wonders feels like the result of this exercise on the part of Nossiter and his script collaborator James Lasdun.  That is not to say that the ending of the film does not work.  It simply joins together narrative elements that, outside the context of the film, would be difficult to draw together.  Could this be said of the conclusion of most films?  Maybe, but consider this.  Two days after it’s opening, Fast and Furious 6 has already grossed $122M.  I’m betting that sitting through only the last 5 minutes of that picture (I cannot call it a film), I could put together a rather decent summation of the previous 125 minutes. (The obvious benefit to such a challenge would be not having to actually experience that prolonged agony.) So while I’ll concede that most movies end on notes that are built toward throughout the course of their runtime, not all pictures pull together elements that could not be explained without this buildup.  Signs and Wonders is a glaring exception.  I’ll not spoil the ending by giving anything away.  I’ll only give you the setup.    

 Alec (Stellan Skarsgård) is a man who looks for meaning in everything.  He sees significance in catching the street lamps come on and in seeing two covered motorcycles parked next to each other.  Most of this reading of signs constitutes a little game he plays with his children, but part of him actually believes in deeper significances that can be hinted at in everyday occurrences.  He’s a successful trader living in Greece with his wife, Marjorie (Charlotte Rampling), and their two children, and he gives off the impression that he believes this reading of signs has lead to much of his success and happiness.  He does have one ugly secret to hide.  He’s had a lengthy affair with an American woman from his office, Katherine (Deborah Kara Unger).  She often wears a yellow scarf in her hair, and he’s always felt that yellow has brought him good fortune. 

   He doesn’t believe enough in this sign to keep the affair going though, and when he confesses everything to Marjorie she is eventually able to forgive him.  Months later, on a ski trip with the entire family, he follows a series of yellow signs down a slope, and finds Katherine in a clearing.  This for him is evidence enough, and soon he’s left his family for Katherine and for America.  However, a revelation about this renewed relationship and about this woman quickly has him again rethinking his choices.  When he returns to Greece he finds that Marjorie has found someone else, and he begins to wonder about his philosophies and the meanings he has always read into so deeply.  He makes an ally of his daughter, but it appears that the two will have to do more than read the signs correctly to reconcile the family as a whole.

Signs and Wonders was a French production filmed on location in Athens, but most of the dialogue is in English, which is justified by Marjorie’s dual citizenship and job at the U.S. embassy, and her desire to raise the children as Americans.  It was released in 2000 at the tail end of a five-year run of rather incredible performances by Skarsgård, in which he starred in both groundbreaking European cinema (Zero Kelvin (1995), Breaking the Waves (1996), Insomnia (1997)), quality American dramas (Good Will Hunting* (1997), Amistad (also 1997)), and Hollywood action thrillers (Ronin (1998), Deep Blue Sea (1999)).  Here his work does not quite match the intensity or depth of any of those previous performances, but this is perhaps because he’s overshadowed by Rampling, doing some of her finest work since the 1970s.  She was 53 when filming Signs and Wonders, and she looks just a bit too aged for the role in close-up, but her delivery is nearly flawless as she deftly maneuvers a script that would be full of potential embarrassments for lesser actresses.  She carries her mature beauty with grace, and even has the confidence for a revealing (of both character and skin) sex scene.

Like its protagonist, critics read a number of meanings into Signs and Wonders.  Some said that it was rife with critique of American imperialism in Greece and the commercialization of modern society.  I think that those elements are there, but not because Nossiter wanted to stress them, so much as that they were ways in which the audience could identify with (or against) the films two superfluous lovers, Katherine and Marjorie’s fiancé Andreas, a former political activist.  I’m not sure that either element really contributes anything to the narrative, other than justifying Marjorie and Andreas’ meeting at the embassy. 

Regardless of larger meanings, intended or not, Signs and Wonders is an effective film in that it gives talented actors good dramatic material to play out.  I don’t think that it is particularly well-structured, but individual scenes and performances do stand out (even transcending the dated handheld digital camerawork that was all the rage in late 90s European films).  I’m sure that I could take to the net seeking out explanations for the narrative juxtapositions at the film’s conclusion, and any deeper significance that they might have, but for now I will be content in having seen gifted thespians apply their craft to material written for mature audiences wanting more than car chases.

 Language: English (primary)/Greek

Runtime: 105 Minutes

Grade: 3 Hats Off

*Robin Williams rightly garnered critical raves and an Oscar for his opposite performance, but watch the film again and think about the complexities that Skarsgård’s Professor Lambeau reveals.