Movie review: Cold Souls

by Alex Bentley

Playing oneself on screen should be a no-brainer for most actors. In most cases, they're making cameos playing heightened versions of themselves. In certain special instances, they're given extended roles that veer wildly from their normal persona (think Neil Patrick Harris in the Harold and Kumar movies). And then you have a situation like Being John Malkovich, where the film is built around a certain actor for surreal purposes.

One can't help but compare Cold Souls with Malkovich, since at times they seem to be the exact same movie. Instead of Malkovich, the actor on display is Paul Giamatti. During rehearsals for the play Uncle Vanya in New York, Giamatti is having trouble connecting with his character. His agent suggests, of all things, soul storage, a process that removes your soul in order to unburden you of whatever mental problem it is that ails you.

Giamatti meets with Dr. Flintstein (David Strathairn) and reluctantly agrees to go through with the procedure (what his soul looks like is one of the high points of the film). Concurrently, a mysterious Russian woman named Nina (Dina Korzun) is shown going back and forth between New York and Russia, acting as a mule for black market Russian souls. When Nina's dealings collide with Giamatti's, things really start to get weird.

Cold Souls is often a movie that seems to be stuck in neutral. It sometimes shows promise by amping up the absurdity, but it's not long before it starts spinning its tires again. Writer/director Sophie Barthes, making her American debut, wants to showcase both philosophical and humorous elements, but the film only really succeeds at the latter. Once you've put the wacky Giamatti out there, it's hard to stuff him back in the box, and that expectation overshadows the quieter moments in the film.

Giamatti is as good as always in the “role.” His hangdog expressions, reminiscent of his role in American Splendor, dominate the film and leave no doubt about the type of person this Paul Giamatti is supposed to be. This is especially evident during the few times that he's allowed to put forth happier emotions. Korzun is essentially the co-star of the film -- her character remains cloaked in mystery for much of the proceedings, an aura she radiates nicely. Strathairn is fine, though he's not given much to do, and Emily Watson seems wasted as Giamatti's wife Claire.

Cold Souls is never as entertaining as it ought to be and is only half as intellectual as it wants to be. Go rent Being John Malkovich instead.