I could have cheated today and gone for The 13th Warrior or Thirteen Days, both of which I’ve seen before and could quite happily natter away about their respective merits (unappreciated in the case of the former).
But, despite being a few days out of sync, I was determined to stick to the purpose of the challenge – to discover films that had passed me by for whatever reason. Thirteen Conversations was a case in point. Although it was made in 2001, I’m sure it wasn’t released in the UK for at least another few years. I remember thinking about going to see it when I was already in Birmingham and it doesn’t feel that long ago (although, this October, I will have lived in Birmingham for 10 years – argh!).
It looked like another one of those quirky ensemble pieces with multiple narratives and intersecting lives. Matthew McConaughey is a hotshot lawyer from the DA’s office, who is so smug in his sanctimonious sense of righteousness that you just know he’s going to hit the buffers sooner or later. Alan Arkin is a cynical insurance manager who is so irritated by the cheeriness of one of his underlings that he fires him just for the hell of it. John Tuturro (what’s happened to him?) is a university lecturer suffering from the aftermath of an armed robbery, simultaneously stoking an extra-marital affair and ignoring the quiet appeals of a delicate student. Clea DuVall is a cleaner with a crush on her employer, whose response is not quite the Love Actually-style fantasy she’s clearly hoping for.
If I’m honest, I was slightly bored by the film. The pace is very slow and everyone takes themselves far too seriously. Characters’ foibles are flagged up to such an extent that you can see the forced change of heart coming a mile off. The minute McConaughey’s lawyer gets into the driving seat after a few celebratory drinks, it’s obvious that his sense of moral superiority is about to be shattered. Alan Arkin is always watchable, but his callousness in firing his colleague undermines any sympathy you have with his situation. The fact that he tries to rectify his mistake throughout the rest of the film makes for an interesting journey, but one which evokes understanding rather than affection.
The over-riding theme of guilt holds this film together, with the characters having to deal with the consequences of their actions. The most powerful image is that of the lawyer deliberately re-opening the cut on his head (the injury he sustained during a hit-and-run accident), as a physical reminder of his silent guilt. This is an effective way of externalizing his feelings and to punish himself for his crime.
There are definitely things to admire here, but I felt the film was designed to put forward a theoretical argument, rather than to entertain an audience. The tone didn’t vary much and the characters were never particularly animated. They were there for a purpose – to illustrate the thematic case and not to exist as people in their own right. The use of title cards between each section makes it seem like an episode of Frasier, with little of the irony, and none of the humour.