Without knowing much about the promotional material associated with Perfect Strangers, it is still easy to conceive of the way that this film has been advertised to the public. Its novel premise will most surely be exploited at every turn. After all, humans are oddly compelled to indulge in nightmarish ‘what ifs’ and the suppressed ugliness of human nature itself. That is why horror films and many of Martin Scorsese’s pictures are so successful.
The premise is this: seven close friends (three couples and a bachelor) gather for an intimate dinner party. After an incoming phone call disrupts the dinner party, its members unanimously agree on placing their phones on the table and allowing the others to scrutinise their private affairs. There are those that are apprehensive about the idea – namely Lele (Valerio Mastandrea) and Rocco (Marco Giallini). But they are smart enough to realise that a negative response would suggest that they have something to hide. So, the dinner party chugs along, punctured early on by innocuous phone conversations. As the dinner party progresses, the nature of the phone conversations around the table take a more shocking turn, ultimately leaving the close friendship unit in tatters.
Before this though, director Paolo Genovese economically introduces us to the main players. Lele and Carlotta (Anna Foglietta) have a dysfunctional marriage, illustrated by Genovese spatially locating the characters in different rooms as they prepare for the dinner party. Cosimo (Edoardo Leo) and Bianca (Alba Rohrwacher) are newlyweds who express voracity for each other. Rocco and Eva (Kasia Smutniak), the hosts of the dinner party, have a tense relationship, aggravated by their opposite approaches to parenting their adolescent daughter. We only meet Peppe (Giuseppe Battiston) at the dinner party itself, which he attends alone. These precursor scenes to the dinner party act as a platform for Genovese to develop and subvert our beliefs and expectations of the relationships of the characters.
Perfect Strangers initially manifests itself as a comedy. The restlessly humorous air evident in the early stages of the film is what gives it purpose. We are entertained; anticipating the spate of awkward moments that will arise out of the phone agreement. However, as the film progresses, more sordid truths about the private lives of these characters unfold. Just after halfway through, there is a necessitated shift of tone from the comedic to the dramatic; which is executed seamlessly by Genovese. This feels natural, as we have all been in situations where light, harmless conversations have taken a turn for the worse. The marked shift of the film’s trajectory is paralleled by an eclipse, which for some will feel manufactured and metaphorically indulgent.
For a film that is essentially composed of a group of friends sitting around a table, the pacing is surprisingly brisk. Genovese never allows scenes to lag, enabled through deft interjections and transitions to new conversation threads and events. The actors are important in maintaining our attention, and they succeed at it overwhelmingly. Although there is no particular standout performance, the ensemble cast acts like a well-oiled machine. They know how to emote, intone and relate to each other, which gives Perfect Strangers an unshakeable consistency.
Intelligently, Genovese positions us as voyeurs – observing the erosion of this formerly tight-knit group of friends. This outsider status is apportioned by way of a number of high-angled wide shots that depict the friends at the dinner table from a distance. This allows us to comprehend the main ideas that the film is putting forward: we all have damaging secrets that could destabilise our most valued relationships. At the same time, the practice of distancing us from the events that occur in the film could lead to audiences feeling contempt for the duality of the characters. This would be to the contrary of Genovese’s intentions, as he wants us to understand the characters in relation to our own domestic spheres.
Inevitably, with a premise like the one presented to us in Perfect Strangers, there is going to be audience expectation. In other words, it was impossible for Genovese not to reveal buried truths about the lives of the characters. In that respect, the film unloads itself of this burden through an eventful third act. Arguably, the film lumps too many secrets on us and its characters, and the succession of scandalous revelations undercut each other. Genovese does not allow for each damaging secret to resonate, as they all eventually blur together. This is due to overenthusiasm on Genovese’s part.
Ultimately though, the thickness of the third act does not undermine the truthfulness of Perfect Strangers. In fact, it only emphasises the deadliness of secrets and the instability of human relationships. It demolishes the constructed façades of the characters, leaving in its wake a room of exposed, helpless adults.
Perfect Strangers is in cinemas from 26th January through Palace Films.
