Speak, Memory

Though her films have been nominated and awarded prizes at festivals all over Europe, Spanish writer/director Isabel Coixet remains relatively unknown here in the US. Her English language debut, the wonderful Things I Never Told You (1996), came and went without much notice. A real shame, for this feminist variation on the quirky relationship dramedy that was all the rage in 90s indie cinema boasts a magnificent screenplay, and a great lead performance by Lili Taylor. (Plus, where else can you find Debi Mazar playing a post-op transsexual?) 2003's My Life Without Me, which featured Sarah Polley as a young woman who chooses not to tell her family that she's dying of terminal cancer, received some decent critical recognition, but did little at the box office. Though not a perfect film, there's much to admire in its direction, screenplay, and lead performance. As moving as it is, it doesn't begin to approach the gut-wrenching power of her latest film, The Secret Life of Words. Opening in Northern Ireland, we meet Hanna (Sarah Polley), a hearing-impaired factory worker with an indeterminate accent who keeps to herself and exhibits OCD-like behavior. Her sparsely decorated flat mirrors her stoic nature, and more often than not she shuts off her hearing aid to silence the world around her. Ordered to take vacation by her boss, Hanna winds up (owing to coincidence) on an offshore oil rig, working as a nurse for Josef (Tim Robbins), a burn victim left temporarily blind from an accident. In a relationship built on multiple layers of trust, the pair will forge an unusual intimacy where truth and lies are interwoven, and secrets are revealed that will change them forever. Hanna, for whom silence was something of a weapon, will allow words to break down her defenses. Coixet presents the rig as a multicultural microcosm, full of characters whose physical isolation from the rest of the world parallels Hanna's emotional one. There's a chef from Spain who dreams of his own restaurant, an English oceanographer who counts waves, and a Norwegian captain who has little use for life on land. Though only minor characters, Coixet has crafted them with as much detail as Hanna and Josef. From the film's outset, there are some unavoidable parallels to Lars von Trier. Hanna as a sensory-deprived immigrant factory worker calls to mind Bjork's Selma from Dancer in the Dark, while the shaky, hand-held camera work and oil rig on the North Sea is right out of Breaking the Waves. However, the similarities end there. Coixet's humanism is the antipode to von Trier's misanthropy (and, as some would claim, misogyny). Still, the image of Hanna as the lone woman amongst a group of lonely, isolated men is eerily disquieting. (Fortunately, Udo Kier is nowhere to be found.) Coixet reveals very little about Hanna until late in the film – a decision that has less to do with narrative structure (i.e., a simple reveal) than it does with the film's larger message. It works tremendously, and delivers a kick to the sternum with a force that few films have been able to achieve. Polley (for whom the role was written) delivers a praise- and award-worthy performance that elevates her to "great actress" stature. The direction here feels more intimate than her previous films, which no doubt has as much to do with the limited physical space (on the rig) as with the subject matter at hand. As in her previous films, her use of music is outstanding (right up there with Scorsese and Claire Denis), and she's managed to cull a selection of tracks that work incredibly well – including songs by Tom Waits, Antony and the Johnsons, Clem Snide, Paolo Conte and Blood, Sweat, and Tears. Her use of David Byrne's Tiny Apocalypse over the end credits is spine tingling. Well deserving of its four Goya Awards (including best film, best director, and best screenplay), The Secret Life of Words is without question a political film, but one that transcends its subject matter to address something far more universal. It isn't Coixet's intention to shame us, but the film is a harsh reminder of how some horrors are glossed over, or never rightfully acknowledged in the first place. This is a deeply humanist work, and its optimistic ending (a sticking point with some) reveals a rare and genuine sense of hope, free from maudlin sentimentality. That in itself is quite a feat. The Secret Life of Words opens in NYC on December 15th, and in Los Angeles on the 22nd.