Pieces of a Woman
Written by Andreas Babiolakis
We are playing catch up by reviewing films that are a part of the current awards season.
Halfway through the latest film by Kornél Mundruczó — his American debut — and I was wondering why there was so many lukewarm feelings about this picture. I was so deeply invested in Pieces of a Woman, and the muted colours in the cinematography, the airiness, and the occasional bold decision (like the sequence towards the start of the film featuring the birth of a child is one of 2020’s great cinematic achievements: a long shot that lasts for nearly twenty five minutes). Everything seemed to be going okay: Vanessa Kirby and Shia LaBeouf have rarely been better than they are right now, as a couple that are slowly dissolving, both as a relationship and as individuals; the heightened turmoil carries this picture of grief; you get some great supporting turns as well, including Ellen Burstyn who never slowed down, and Molly Parker who steals a number of climactic scenes.
Then, the film kept going, and I found myself wondering what was placing me on this fence, of which I sat upon. Things seemed to be going well, yet I was gradually losing interest. Even with the gigantic turns of the conclusion, I was finding myself only slightly affected. It’s as if the energy of the picture and my enthusiasm was sucked out. See, there are long films and minimalist stories, but they are made with the knowledge of how these can exist without becoming gigantic bores. In the case of Pieces of a Woman, I eventually began to realize why I was starting to feel indifferent. So much of the film is written with a lack of foundation, so the pulses of characters, the chemistry of circumstances, and the spark of the film just didn’t matter anymore. We never get the sense that Sean is unintelligent, yet that’s how he is pegged. Why would a midwife be able to mess up a number of times before something was done? Was Sean’s subplot really necessary to the story? Do we need thirty thousand different ways to show all angles of how Martha is hurting?
The twenty five minute birth sequence is one primary reason to watch Pieces of a Woman.
All of these screenwriting lapses — which could have been solved by additional piles being left on the cutting room floor, mind you — elongate a film that is meant to feel void of warmth in an artistic sense, but ends up being narratively absent minded. As great as these performances are, as strong as specific scenes may be, the entire picture feels like it buckles underneath the weight of these stand-out moments, because it is so wobbly elsewhere. Can much be done about the thinly written story at this point? Probably not, but, again, the film could have been sliced up by an editor and made into a brief, poignant look at loss. The intended dread just doesn’t exist, here; it, too, falls through the bottomless pit of an empty story. You may as well go for a more immediate, powerful story. Much about Pieces of a Woman is great, but I don’t feel inclined to revisit it, despite these occasional sequences of brilliance and perfect elements. The entire ordeal just feels like work, and that makes me incredibly sad, given that there are enough pieces here that a top-tier film could have easily been made.
Andreas Babiolakis has a Masters degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from Ryerson University, as well as a Bachelors degree in Cinema Studies from York University. His favourite times of year are the Criterion Collection flash sales and the annual Toronto International Film Festival.