97. Proof

Before Russell Crowe was John Nash and Gladiator, and before Hugo Weaving was Agent Smith and Elrond, they both starred in this quirky, clever, and absorbing Australian drama, written and directed by Jocelyn Moorhouse.

The film defies easy description. “It’s about a blind photographer,” sounds pretty high-concept, like a film that might be remade in Hollywood with Cuba Gooding, Jr. in the lead, but Proof, despite a few belly laughs and a neat sardonic tone, is a serious and complex film about human relationships.

Proof is about three generally screwed up people. Martin (Weaving) is a paranoid blind man who takes photos to prove that “what was there was what I saw,” but has trouble finding someone he trusts to describe the photos to him. Celia (Geneviève Picot), his housekeeper, an intelligent and sexually manipulative woman whose unrequited desire for Martin leads them into a hostile codependency. Their unpleasant but bearable status quo is disrupted when Martin meets Andy (Crowe), an easygoing young waiter. Andy’s budding friendship with Martin is complicated by his attraction to Celia, and by Celia’s jealousy. Moorhouse has created rich characters, which her three actors flesh out with incredible finesse. Picot captures the inner pain that drives the conniving Celia, while Crowe displays an understated charm rarely seen in his Hollywood work. But the film really hinges on Weaving’s masterful performance as the prickly Martin. Weaving’s subtlety and grace and this proud and demanding man make Martin’s neurotic obsessions believable and comprehensible. None of the characters is consistently likeable, but they are all recognizably human.

A relative neophyte when the film was made, Moorhouse shows tremendous talent. The film’s comedic highlight, a scene in which Andy takes Martin to a drive-in to describe a slasher flick, is masterfully staged. There are several indelible moments (Martin photographing his dog in the park, the dark-side seduction of the film’s first sex scene) throughout the film. The film is comedy-drama, and avoids contrivance, but Moorhouse’s conviction about what’s at stake in the interaction of these three characters makes Proof play like a thriller.

Moorhouse was lured to Hollywood after making this film, where she directed (but did not write) the serviceable chick flick How To Make an American Quilt and an adaptation of Jane Smiley’s A Thousand Acres. She hasn’t yet recaptured the intelligence and wit on display in Proof. (Josh Ralske)