That’s sorta how I felt about A Dangerous Method.
So, the story… it gives us a glimpse into the volatile relationship between psychological pioneers Carl Jung (Michael Fassbender) and Sigmund Freud (Viggo Mortensen), which developed in the years leading up to World War I in Zurich and Austria. Along comes a really, really disturbed patient named Sabina Spielrein (Keira Knightley), who becomes one of the first female psychoanalysts, but only after drawing her doctor, Jung, into a sexual relationship that completely screws up his sensibilities and further complicates his relationship with Freud.
According to the official studio synopsis: “Sensuality, ambition and deceit set the scene for the pivotal moment when Jung, Freud and Sabina come together and split apart, forever changing the face of modern thought.”
Sounds titillating and thought-provoking and fascinating, no?
Knightly’s performance is certainly adequately disturbing and extreme, but everyone else gets lost in (I’m guessing) an attempt to remain overly understated, stifled, restrained. A tension-building technique? Snore.
Mortensen’s, well, Freudian relationship with his ubiquitous cigar is pretty much the most notable part of his performance. And I kept waiting for Fassbender to explode or implode or pretty much do anything not subdued.
Not their faults, though. A so-so script and dull direction at the hands of festival darling David Cronenberg (Crash, History of Violence) are to blame, says me. Give me new insight into Freud and Jung… illustrate how revolutionary their concepts were for their time… make me believe in or become excited by any one of these relationships! But, alas, it wasn’t meant to be.
Sadly, with all the fabulous ingredients -- great actors and cool subject matter and costumes and such – it comes up rather bland. Lukewarm. Needed salt. And maybe a shot of Tabasco.
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