You’d think a movie with Colin Firth and Emily Blunt would automatically be pretty awesome, or at the very least, be mildly enjoyable.
Arthur Newman was perhaps one iota below mildly enjoyable.
The story revolves around Wallace Avery (played by Firth), a middle-aged golf pro of yesteryear who goes through one of the more bizarre midlife crises ever represented onscreen. Sick of dealing with the monotony of his boring life and his crumbling relationship with his son, Wallace decides to fake his own death and skip town with a new identity: Arthur Newman.
Even though it sounds a bit quotidian, the premise did have a lot of potential. A midlife crisis isn’t exactly the most exciting part of a person’s life, but there’s something very real and human about watching an individual deal with unhappiness – because it means having to confront the fact that despite being a grown-ass adult, you really don’t have everything figured out. Arthur Newman had a chance to give a stark portrayal of the human condition, but unfortunately the film and its title character fall short of having any emotional depth.
Thinking about it now, the entire opening sequence definitely foreshadowed the confusing nature of the rest of the film, as it seemed to be striving for that feeling of empty sadness, but in trying too hard ended up falling on its face. Then there’s also the fact that the two storylines that were present didn’t do a very good job of complementing each other, making the story even more disorienting.
The confusing tone of Arthur Newman never really dissipates, as the subsequent events just don’t make sense. I mean, they do, but in a way that’s difficult to hold onto any suspension of disbelief. The scene when Wallace/Arthur sees Mike (played by Blunt) for the first time is probably the most unbelievable, as the odd making of eye contact while Mike is being hauled away by the police just seems so contrived – even in the land of make-believe where anything is possible.
As it turns out, Mike has identity issues too, and decides to join Wallace/Arthur on his runaway trip – after being conveniently let out of the police station and stumbling into the pool of the motel where Wallace/Arthur happens to be staying. All of this is well and good until the two start breaking into people’s houses and literally taking on the identity of others. It makes sense within the context of the story, but at the same time, it just seems too obvious: Arthur and Mike, who can’t deal with their true selves, run away and literally pretend to live lives that aren’t theirs – there’s no subtly to the storytelling.
The part of the breaking-and-entering montage that made me laugh the most though, was the scene that looked like the cinematic version of an angst-ridden blog, as Mike is actually sitting in her underwear on a stranger’s bed with Wallace/Arthur as they take Polaroids of each other. Maybe I’m just being a cynic (or mean-spirited), but that scene just seemed incredibly unnatural.
On top of all of this, after another unnecessary rack focus (I lost count after ten), I pretty much lost all hope that the film would save itself. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s Firth and Blunt’s faces – as well as their convincing portrayals of these two individuals – that were what mostly got me through the movie.
Midlife crises are terrifying, but if I’ve learned anything from the confusion that is Arthur Newman it’s that pretending to be someone else – literally pretending to be someone else – is not going to solve anything.