When the first trailer for “See How They Run” appeared early this summer, a fair number of observers came to the same conclusion: Wes Anderson rip-off. It wasn’t hard to see; the ‘50s-set murder mystery seems to deliberately ape the Anderson aesthetic, from the meticulously detailed design work to the rich color palates to the striking and frequently symmetrical compositions, and it’s populated by a big, busy, impeccably attired ensemble cast that includes Anderson standby Adrien Brody and “Grand Budapest Hotel” co-star Saoirse Ronan. There’s nothing inherently, unimpeachably wrong with this – after all, even our greatest filmmakers indulge in lifts and homages from time to time. The trouble with “See How They Run” is that director Tom George so carefully studied the look of Anderson’s work but not the feel. He knows the words but not the music.
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The setting is London’s West End, 1953. We’re backstage at the 100th performance of the stage adaptation of Agatha Christie’s “The Mousetrap,” though its charms are lost on Brody, a vulgar, boorish American director in town to prep a pending film version; he contributes a voice-over railing against the clichés of the whodunit, which (in a nicely self-aware touch) apply to the film we’re now watching: “You know the drill: an interminable prologue where all the chars are introduced,” “the murder of the least likable character,” that sort of thing. Trouble is, that the least likable character is our narrator, and when he’s bumped off in the costume shop, nearly everyone involved with the production has a motive.
Enter the protagonists: Sam Rockwell, in a natty mustache and dodgy British accent, as Scotland Yard Inspector Stoppard, and Saoirse Ronan as the young constable who’s assisting him, an ambitious and cheerful chatterbox. “I’d like you to show her the ropes,” his commissioner commands. “I’m hoping some of her enthusiasm might rub off on you.” And they’re off!
Or, well, they should be. Director George (a British TV vet making his feature debut) clearly fancies himself a stylist, so he fills the film with distracting split screens, inserted fleetingly and, seemingly, at random; there’s also a weird little surrealistic dream sequence that’s totally out of tone. But Jamie Ramsay’s cinematography sparkles, Daniel Pemberton’s score bounces, and Mark Chappell’s script lights up with some inventive plotting and clever intermingling of real faces and names. (Harris Dickinson has the right slick charm for the play’s leading actor, “Dickie Attenborough.”)
The problem is the pace. “See How They Run” moseys when it should sprint (it’s right there in the title, for God’s sake!) and saunters when it should snap. This kind of scenario, screwball by way of Ealing, has to zip like a freight train, and George seems to have directed everyone to move like a snail – everyone, that is, except Ronan, who appears to be the only actor who understood the assignment. (You can usually depend on Rockwell for a shot of adrenaline, but his craggy, sleepy character drags the picture’s energy down further.) She’s delightful and carries her scenes, but she can only do so much. Comedy is all about timing, and the timing here is all off, so the laughs are disturbingly few. What a missed opportunity this is. [C-]
“See How They Run” hits theaters on September 16.
Sam RockwellSaoirse RonanSee How They RunTom George