Liebestraum - Cinématographe Limited Edition

It's always fun to compare the sensibilities of a "classic" noir, an old black and white film from the 1940s, versus a so-called "neo" noir, and to see how different they are. In most classic versions of a noir tale, cloaked in the shadows of the night, beams of light bleeding in through the slats on a pair of blinds in front of a window, they were lusty tales of sex and murder, but so much of the eroticism had to be hinted at or alluded to with subtle fadeouts due to the standards in place due to the Hays Code. Meanwhile, a neo-noir, almost always a bright, vibrant affair (with the same play between light and shadows), is allowed to be much more frank in its depiction of carnal relations. 

But where the two sensibilities almost always share an ageless bond is in their themes and their cynical view of humanity. One of the most classical tropes in any noir, neo, classic, or anything in between is that the past is an inescapable force that defines us. Not just our own histories, like Jacques Tourneur's Out of the Past, where the sins of our past will always come back for us so that we may pay the piper, but we must also pay for the sins of our fathers. Or--as in the case of Liebestraum, the sins of our mothers. 

Nick (Kevin Anderson) comes back to his hometown after many years away to visit his dying mother before she dies. She's his biological mom, and he's never met her before until now. His past is important to him, as is the past that surrounds him. Across the street from the hospital where his mother is dying, a historical building is being planned for demolition by one of Nick's old college buddies, a man named Paul (Bill Pullman). Nick saves Paul from being squashed by a piece of signage that falls off the building, and as a thank you, invites Nick to a party he's hosting that evening. That's when Nick meets Paul's wife, Jane (Pamela Gidley), and the two fall in lust at first sight with each other, and it's only a matter of time before they act on those animal urges. 

The forces of fate keep pushing Nick and Jane together--Nick plans on writing an article about the building Paul is set to demolish, and Paul suggests he team up with Jane because she's one hell of a photographer. Together, they explore each other's pasts and how their futures intertwine, along with the lives of the town itself.

Liebestraum is an intriguing premise that's constantly being undone by its own frustrating story that ends up feeling anticlimactic with each new reveal. Whenever a piece of the puzzle fits in, and the overall picture becomes a bit clearer, it's kind of like, "Oh!... who cares?" The mystery of the cold open and a crime of passion murder is never quite as interesting as the film believes it is, and for a neo-noir that had the benefit of a nastier edge, it seems to pull a lot of its punches. It never adequately explores the darkness of the human soul or the shadows that dwell inside of us. 

There are detours from a more traditional melodrama/mystery into Lynchian weirdness, and those detours are almost always right on the cusp of laugh-out-loud in their badness. It takes a genuine weirdness to pull off those kinds of scenes, and if you don't have the surrealist sensibilities of a David Lynch, it comes off not only as a cheap imposter that lacks sincerity, but it's the worst kind of unintentional comedy. 

Maybe Liebestraum would have fared better with a more engaging lead. No doubt, Kevin Anderson is a talented actor, but Nick gives the audience nothing. I don't think he has the kind of enigmatic magnetism for a story like this. A shame, because Bill Pullman has the chops to carry a picture like this, and he was right there, relegated to a thankless supporting role, in which he still gets the best performance of the whole movie.

Vital Disc Stats: The Blu-ray
Liebestraum joins Cinématographe in a single-disc release, housed in a specially designed, cloth-bound media book and custom-molded disc tray, with a slipcase featuring newly commissioned art. The media book features essays by Nadine Whitney, Neil Young, Travis Woods, and an interview with cinematographer Juan Ruiz Anchía by Justin LaLiberty. 

Hot off a brand-new 4K scan of the film's original 35mm camera negative, and presented in 1080p HD, Liebestraum looks terrific. It was shot by cinematographer Juan Ruiz Anchía (At Close Range), who has a unique ability to lens a world inhabited with darkness (both human and aesthetic), in those dreary places where we hide from our memories. The scan is thick with organic film grain and so finely detailed that I had to double-check to make sure this wasn't actually a 4K release--the beautiful, varied color realization is so subtle and naturalistic at times I would have sworn I was watching something in 4K/HDR and not HD/SDR. This is about as good as a Blu-ray can possibly look.

Liebestraum comes equipped with a 2.0 stereo mix, encoded in lossless DTS-HD MA. Like its visual counterpart, it's incredible how much the sound design can get from a two-channel, front-only mix, but sometimes that's the genius of working within limitations. Throughout the film, dialogue is given priority, almost always crisp, clean, and clearly audible, but there are a few moments where the film uses this to its advantage, using a lower octave on secrets being whispered betwixt two characters, when WHAM! the scene instantly transitions to chaotic sound and fury, to shock our senses. These moments are very intentional, a jolt in a precise moment to elicit surprise. All other elements in the mix, like the score composed by Figgis himself, the atmospheric effects, or more obvious effects like gunshots, are given the appropriate amount of oomph or subtlety, as dictated by their need in the scene in question. 

Cinématographe, in keeping with their tradition of excellence when it comes to assembling a wealth of features for the films inducted into their collection, has gone all out on Liebestraum, packing two audio commentaries, a trio of interviews, a video essay, and even deleted scenes. There's a lot here to make your way through.

• Audio Commentary - Writer/Director Mike Figgis, moderated by Justin LaLiberty
• Audio Commentary - Film noir historians Alain Silver and Christopher Coppola
• Interview (HD 15:27) - With Writer/Director Mike Figgis
• Interview (HD 15:10) - With Editor Martin Hunter
• Interview (HD 16:32) - Production Designer Waldemar Kalinowski
• Liebestraum: Memories of the Past (HD 11:51) - Video essay by Alexandra Heller-Nicholas
• Deleted Scenes (SD 8:26)
• Trailer

Liebestraum is an ambitious movie that, unfortunately, isn't quite successful. It has a lot going for it, which absolutely works, but fumbles with weaving a complex narrative in a satisfying way. Each narrative thread feels wholly independent from the rest of the film, and when combined with each other's individual story threads, there's a clash of tonalities. You have a story about a young man who returns home after some time and discovers the ghosts of his family's past, and it awkwardly blends into a sultry, steamy story of a torrid love affair, where the two characters have zero chemistry, with some surrealistic imagery that just doesn't work. While the film itself is a disappointment, Figgis (who directed Leaving Las Vegas) is an artist who takes chances, so I can't blame him for making something that shoots for the moon--I'll take overambition over hackneyed any day of the week. As a Blu-ray, Liebestraum is top-tier, boasting amazing sound and visuals, along with a wealth of special features in a gorgeous package. Liebestraum isn't for everyone, but it's at least Worth a Look. 

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