The Burnt Orange Heresy – Review

The Burnt Orange Heresy

Directed by: Giuseppe Capotondi

Runtime: 98 minutes

It’s only fitting that in this post-(perhaps mid?)-COVID reality that we all find ourselves helplessly and inextricably trapped within, a truly strange year like 2020 would yield truly strange films. Such is the epiphanic realisation I had when watching The Burnt Orange Heresy, and it all starts with the deliberate ambiguity of the film’s promotional poster.

For one thing, the poster attempts to occlude the definite article ‘The’ from the film’s title. A strange decision, considering that said article is included in the film’s trailer, the credits, and was the title of the book of the same name by crime novelist Charles Willeford, which is the basis of the film’s script by Scott Smith. Next, the poster appears to eschew the prominence of listing the director, Giuseppe Capotondi, instead opting for a declaration of the producer’s works: “From the award-winning producers of The Talented Mr. Ripley, Spring Breakers & Nightcrawlers.” Of course, this is all correct; however, it does beg the question of why Capotondi isn’t featured (except for a teeny-tiny inclusion in the barely-legible bottom text).

Perhaps this is because Capotondi, a prominent director of BMW car commercials and music videos for artists such as Natalie Imbruglia, Bush, and Kelis, lacks considerable draw and name recognition. It could also be that linking The Burnt Orange Heresy to the works of its producers presents itself to a prospective audience as a cue for the film’s intended style, tone, and genre.

Now, you may be asking yourself: ‘Okay, fine. But why does this matter?’ Well, as the film’s tagline so perfectly illustrates: “You can’t paint over the truth.” The Burnt Orange Heresy is a film that exists firmly within the domain of art history and high society and is intimately concerned with ideas of visual imagery, criticism, philosophy, and the normativity of facts and meaning. So, in this respect, I believe I would be remiss in not engaging with the spirit of the film’s representation in attempting to observe, assess, and evaluate it. Allow me to explain.

James Figueras (Claes Bang) is a disgraced art critic living a modest if somewhat unflattering life in Italy, giving lectures to largely ignorant tourists about the power of criticism. Figueras desperately craves respect, success, and fame from the pretentious circles of the elite high-art scene and is willing to go to any length to obtain them. After a chance meeting with the beautiful and inscrutable Berenice Hollis (Elizabeth Debicki), an idealistic school-teacher from Duluth, Minnesota enjoying a European sabbatical, Figueras invites his new paramour to join him on a trip to the estate of a wealthy art collector, Joseph Cassidy (Mick Jagger). Cassidy reveals to Figueras that the famous and hermitic painter Jerome Debney (Donald Sutherland) just so happens to reside on his palatial estate. The elusive Debney has successfully avoided the public eye for over 50 years, and no one has managed to interview him or see his current work.

It’s here that the Devil’s bargain which motivates the film’s plot is revealed: Cassidy is prepared to arrange a rendezvous and potential interview with Debney for Figueras if he can persuade Debney to relinquish one of his artworks for Cassidy’s collection. It’s the chance of a lifetime for Figueras, with the potential to galvanise his waning career and restore his social standing. However, if he should be unsuccessful, Cassidy threatens to reveal some of Figueras’ underhanded dealings and officially sink his career for good. Thus, with considerable stakes firmly established, and a beautiful setting in the villas surrounding Italy’s Lake Como, the film hits all the grooves of a compelling neo-noir thriller.

The true strangeness of The Burnt Orange Heresy rests in just how it subverts the well-trodden tropes of film noir, while also managing to hit those same familiar narrative beats convincingly. As Jagger’s smug Cassidy tells Figueras towards the end of the film’s first act: “Never let a thing’s worth obscure its value.”

As the film’s anti-hero protagonist, Bang’s performance as Figueras is commendable and spot-on. Rather than a hard-boiled detective or rough gangster, Bang portrays the critic with just the right amount of rugged intellectualism, tragic flaws, and brooding existential angst. Tidbits of dialogue and back story hint at the darker undercurrent simmering beneath Figueras’ fascination with Debney, and as the film burns through its three-act structure in near-symmetrical thirty-minute units, the twists and turns provide an unexpected pivot at an entirely expected moment.

While also being the foil to Figueras’ conflicted anti-hero, Debicki’s Hollis is the perfect anti-femme fatale and a beacon of radiant optimism in the otherwise severe and conceited circles of fame and ego. The script makes a point of obfuscating Hollis’ origins and intentions. When paired with over-the-top dialogue (Hollis and Figueras have only known each other for a brief few days, yet they continuously tease and refer to one another as ‘honey’ and ‘champ’ and other affectionate pet names), she’s the voice of the every-person who can clearly and astutely see through the veils of bullshit and pretension.

Likewise, Capotondi’s direction and David Ungaro’s cinematography help to subvert the expectations of the thriller plot. The surrounds of Lake Como are suffused with light, warm tones, eschewing the high-contrast and shadow-play familiar to the neo-noir genre. When the film dips its toes in moments of urban exploration, the use of winding hallways, open doors, and interior darkness serves to ratchet up scenes of dramatic tension.

While I enjoyed The Burnt Orange Heresy, the film is, unfortunately, let-down by an unsatisfying third act and clumsy conclusion which dilutes much of the fun engendered by the preceding acts. That being said, Debicki’s performance is brilliant and worth the price of admission alone. There’s also an intriguing meta-aspect to the film that stuck with me long after my viewing. As a fellow critic of art and creative expression, it’s always enjoyable to watch a film engage with the very act of criticism itself, as a mechanism to constructing character, story, and narrative reality. As Debney rather tellingly hints to Hollis, “Most people… they’re not what you’d expect.” And, in many ways, the same can be said for The Burnt Orange Heresy.