Messing with our minds. That’s what he did. Coming out from seeing Danny Boyle’s Trance we couldn’t totally agree on what had happened. Did they? Was he? Could it really?
But then, maybe it doesn’t matter. We saw several versions of what might have happened, and one was true. Perhaps. But not necessarily.
Someone steals a Goya. The question is who and how, but above all, where is it now? The art auctioneer, Simon, has amnesia and doesn’t know any longer. His crooked accomplices take him to see a hypnotherapist to find the painting.
I don’t actually believe hypnotherapy works quite the way it does in the film, but it’s an interesting mind experiment. Rosario Dawson is too young and too beautiful to be practising in Harley Street, but then the film wouldn’t work if she wasn’t attractive.
It’s hard to stop thinking of James McAvoy as anyone but the funny creature in Narnia, and I can’t say I like him here. Vincent Cassel makes a rather charming crook, however.
As Daughter said before she let us oldies go and see Trance, all you need is a sofa to hide behind when it gets too yucky. I found that closing my eyes worked well too.
At least Trance is not a cliché, the same as all other films.
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