Filmikaze!

By: Sophie Barthes (director, writer)

Starring: Paul Giamatti, Dina Korzun, Emily Watson, David Strathairn, Katheryn Winnick, Lauren Ambrose

Paul is an actor who feels bogged down by his participation in a production of Chekov’s play, Vanya.

Talk about having the least apt IMDb synopsis ever. Allow me to correct that: Cold Souls is an existential comedy/drama in the vein of Being John Malkovitch and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Paul Giamatti stars as a version of himself who is, yes, struggling with his portrayal in Vanya. In an effort to relieve the tension the role is creating, he visits a soul storage clinic, which does exactly what it says on the tin: stores your soul, so that you can go about unburdened by all those tricky moral concerns. Paul hits an unfortunate snag when his soul is stolen to be implanted in a vapid Russian actress, who believes it used to belong to Al Pacino.

Yes, this film is as bizarre as it sounds, but it is also absolutely wonderful.

Have I mentioned before how much I adore a smart movie? Because Cold Souls is so, so smart, yet manages to not be overly convoluted or condescending about it. Paul Giamatti is flat-out fantastic, and I suppose it could be said that this isn’t much of a stretch for him given that he’s playing himself, but it’s the subtleties in the parody that make it brilliant. He plays up actor neuroses just enough to be believable and thoroughly funny when he, for instance, maligns the fact that once extracted, his soul apparently looks like a chickpea.

As hilarious as the movie is in parts, it is also poignant and astute in its depiction of the moral and spiritual complexities of life as a human being, and there’s a message rooted in there that’s going to speak differently to each person who watches it. This is the difference between your average movie and art. It is genuinely good, and fun, and the sort of film that makes you think long after you’ve left the theatre or turned off the TV.