Diplomatic immunity

It’s intriguing watching Nicole Kidman in a mainstream film that emulates the same qualities of the art-house fare she generally opts for; the Universal banner that plays before The Interpreter feels like, considering it stars Kidman, it should read Miramax, Fine Line, Lions Gate or such similar film outfits. Same goes for Sean Penn, whose nuanced repertoire of dark, bleak roles has made The Interpreter all the more interesting.

It’s an old-school political thriller that works: Kidman is UN interpreter Silvia Broome, who, in the (fictional) African dialect Ku, hears of an assassination attempt against President Edmund Zuwanie of Matobo; the liberator-turned-dictator is to be killed on a trip to New York to address the General Assembly over charges of genocide. (The African republic may be fictitious but is very politically reminiscent of real nations within the area.) Silvia, however, has had a rather questionable past as a political activist, and FBI agent Tobin Keller (Sean Penn) has been assigned to both protect and investigate her.

Traditionalism is something director Sydney Pollack evidently strives for in The Interpreter, which is nostalgic of ’70s political thrillers like Day of the Jackal and Pollack’s very own Three Days of Condor. But the conventionality is hardly creatively constraining for the film: The Interpreter utilizes few narrative gimmicks beyond appropriately timed and measured obligatory slips of information, and in its place, great and compelling storytelling. Instead of ostentatious cliffhangers and the bombast of plot surprises, Pollack gives his audience the equally thrilling thread of a taut, gripping cerebral mind game.

Nicole Kidman gives one of the best performances of her career while tackling a vaguely South African accent; she is intense when need be, and heartbreaking without succumbing to easily achievable pathos. Penn is, as usual, superb, following a tour de force turn in last year’s criminally unrecognized The Assassination of Richard Nixon. Silvia and Tobin’s relationship is refreshingly far from romantic, though is full of compassion, understanding, and palpable emotion. There is no kiss between the two, but there is a hug – what can serve as the clinch – that is powerful enough to challenge any hackneyed agent-falls-in-love-with-charge cliché the film rightfully avoids.

While not even Hitchcock was permitted to film North by Nothwest at the UN, the organization finally opened its doors to Pollack et al; authenticity was a large part in making The Interpreter work. Scenes shot at the General Assembly, among others, give the film a sense of heightened reality. What is fascinating is how The Interpreter, so absorbed and enveloped in its veracity, gets us to care about this reality: The politically charged issues seem – and are – so timely and urgent and immediate that it becomes resonant. Even the familiar debate on the UN’s silent diplomacy versus more aggressive action is tackled, and though it’s done with apparent leanings (read: Sean Penn stars), makes it all the more vital.

Bottom Line: In any language, The Interpreter is the first veritable Oscar contender of the year; a traditional yet effective, classy, intelligent and elegant political thriller and the kind of prestige projects that Hollywood hasn’t been making in a while.

Grade: B+

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