[rating=7.00]
As in life, the past and the present engage in a recursive dance in The Song of Names, the latest film from director François Girard, best known for films like The Red Violin. The swirl of history moves through us all, informing our present lives and moving us with an unheard rhythm in a delicate waltz that affects our every moment.
Based on the novel by Norman Lebrecht, The Song of Names is a slow, meditative film that reflects on the intimate connections between our histories and our now, and how the past can never stay gone forever. Despite a cold reception at last year’s Toronto International Film Festival, it’s a film that reminds us of the raw power of our histories and how our lives move in time with their rhythms.
While lacking the depth of artistry that made The Red Violin a Best Foreign Language contender at the 2000 Golden Globes, The Song of Names is still a quietly beautiful film that belies its dry veneer to showcase the strength of shared bonds and history.
On the eve of Germany’s invasion of Poland, a Jewish man from Warsaw brings his brilliant son, Dovidl, to London in the hopes of finding him a suitable tutor to leave him with. Leaving him with the father of Martin, Dovidl grows up not knowing what happened to his family during the war. After 12 years, Dovidl disappears suddenly before making his debut as a violinist, leaving his adopted family in limbo and his career shot. Now, decades after his disappearance, an adult Martin (Tim Roth) travels across Europe in hopes of finding his adopted brother and friend (Clive Owen).
The Song of Names jumps through time, juxtaposing young Dovidl and Martin as children with adult Martin’s tireless search for his erstwhile brother and companion. The themes work as a kind of cinematic fugue, its themes layering and repeating as past and present begin to intertwine. We watch as the prodigious Dovidl hones his skills with the help of Martin and his father, even as the lingering question of Dovidl’s family’s whereabouts begins to haunt the young man.
Absence plays a massive role in the film, both for young Dovidl and adult Martin, both of whom suffer from the lack of information about their family. The more we learn of their shared history, the deeper the mystery gets. Their lives begin to rhyme in unique ways, creating a textured symphony of humanity which moves their lives and dictates their next steps and movements.
While often too dry for its own good, the film builds to an explosive climax in which past and present finally merge in an emotional crescendo. Roth and Owen play it beautifully, letting their estrangement become a part of their personal themes and creating a feeling of tense harmony that compliments the chords the other brings.
Though mired by the conventions of period drama, there’s a lot to appreciate in this subtle effort from Girard. It’s never great and will certainly be remembered as one of his lesser works, but it plays the heart like a violin and reminds of how the song of our past reprises itself later in life.
The Song of Names is now playing in select theaters.
