Side Effects is a splendid film. It’s a thriller at its heart, so you’ll find no spoiling here.
I knew next to nothing about this film walking in, except 1) who was in it, 2) that apparently Megan Ellison and Blake Lively were once involved, and 3) that Channing Tatum’s character does some insider trading that lands him in jail. The first point proved an unexpected delight, the second appears wholly irrelevant, and the third, although true, isn’t altogether that pivotal in the end.
Suffice to say that what looks like a film about mental illness and crime actually turns out to be about precisely those things, but in a rather different way. There’s mental illness, just perhaps not the type (or patient) you were expecting. There’s crime, but certainly not the one(s) I expected. And I really enjoyed it.
Jude Law is at his engaging best as a New York City good-dude psychiatrist who treats Rooney Mara, a young wife suffering from depression following hubby Channing’s release from the steel klink. Mara is outstanding here: she shifts gears from cutie to crazy in no time at all (remember Naomi Watts in act three of one of my favorite films of all time?). Channing is actually a bit forgettable in this, but Soderbergh’s using him a lot these days (Haywire to Magic Mike to here) and he’s not given much to do this time out. He’s almost a non-entity, if you can believe that. CZJ is watchable, though perhaps a little flat, as the Greenwich shrink who treated Mara before.
I’ll say nothing of the story except to say that it’s interesting, melancholy, Soderberghy, thought-provoking, sometimes confusing, and ultimately very fun. The plot keeps us guessing, and its steady march to windward doesn’t want for tacks. There are a few Black Swan-style nails-on-blackboard moments amidst the typical downtempo brooding, too. Scenes ripe with unease, apprehension. If I used the word “cringeworthy” I’d perhaps use it here. It’s all quite masterfully done, if occasionally a bit stressful to sit through. And the film switches pace enough that it all works, as my absentee compatriot in the frozen north might say if he ever alights from the heavens with a new blog post.
This is also a film that reinvents itself midstream. Oh! It’s not about that, it’s about … this! If you like a bit of that, you’ll like a bit of this, a lot. Yes, I just wrote that, and there’s nothing you can do about it.
A quick draught of tonic for my nitpicky comrades at bar: The legal outcome here may strain credulity a tad, but it’s quite necessary for the plot — and besides, it’s not so hard to swallow given Soderbergh’s reliance on settlement rather than adjudication. It could happen. I think.
In sum, Side Effects is an engaging and thoughtful film, one that not only spins an interesting story but prods at the social structures that support and enable it. It’s a film that’s both tidy and messy, depending which part you’re talking about. I particularly loved its quiet derision of the circus act of medication-heavy psychiatric practice (and the criminal justice system, too). And I’m including in said derision the several times characters eat at Le Cirque. Anyone else notice this?
Side Effects also rations exposition in all the right spots. If you like to work for your cinematic dinner, you’ve come to the right place. The ending is a bit of a binge, but hey — who doesn’t like a big dessert?
HAUS VERDICT: The more I think about it, quite possibly Soderbergh’s best.