Proof

This film is superb, playing on the paranoia in every one of us. I Love it!

if not for a film buff pal, i would have never seen this gem of a flick. the performances are excelent, the screenplay unusualy insightful and honest, and it wastes not a moment. it is also a very sexy film, in a sophisticated manner.

The success of Proof is in its superior acting and to a lesser degree its characterizations. But its shape and outcome are weakened by too psychological an approach at the expense of power realities. Martin, the blind protagonist, has the most social power of the three. He's white, male, and minimally middle class. He's got a hip job as a music reviewer for which he is paid well enough to hire a housekeeper. Although he's much alone, he does have his buddy, Andy, whose everyman status mediates Martin's entry or inclusion in the masculine world ("strangulation, mutilation" Andy emotes as he leads the chorus of sadistic beeps at the drive-in), and which in toto equates to male bonding. He also has Celia, the housekeeper, who serves Martin as both wife, mother, housekeeper, secretary, conversationalist, and love/sex interest (interest only, of course) without even minimal commitment on his part. To boot Martin is the central character, whose life Celia and Andy must revolve around. His problem, engrained distrust, especially of women, is the pivotal focus in the world of this film, which is his world. In contrast, Celia has at best minimal social power. Her sex object status only underscores this fact. For as provocative, fashionable (she looks like the stylish editor of some New York art journal) and sophisticated as she may be, she is ultimately treated no better than Ugly, the cat. She too is alone, motherless and fatherless, but her lack of friends is more real than imagined, and her gender affiliation, if it exists at all, is not empowering. Nor does her job, despite her mastery of it, engage her publicly. She may be an audacious woman who knows her own thoughts and feelings, but these just seem to be forms of self-betrayal. For Martin, her boss, is both condescending and perverse. To him she's a bag, a woman with "no heart," "a vile" despicable woman, which in turn makes Celia compare herself to "a bitch in heat." (She knows men's minds) Seduction and her vengeful game playing are her only forms of leverage--and identity. Satin blouses and snapping photos of her master on the john are poor replacements for the love and world she wants (though, she settles for just being needed). And she is more deeply sex-bound in having to toss her body over to Andy--her only rival for Martin's love-- who she also serves as an older woman sex fantasy. So, how is it that Martin benefits from the film's psychological framework. For one, it makes him conveniently unaware of Celia's problems. Self-criticism is beyond him because he's self-preoccupied. It is no coincidence that he's a photographer, the spy, in control, of his immediate world and those in it. The way he may or can affect those around him are at best secondary--there are no recognizable oppressors in his world, only victims, of which he is one, and Celia is not. The fact that the solution for his distrust and phobias is finally grasping that his mother was no lier, does not benefit Celia, the second woman in his life. No, it is simple, honest Andy, also enmeshed in the psychological view, who is both the catalyst and beneficiary of Martin's faith. Celia is removed from the ending and sacked from her job because she exists in a framework that denies her gender, her oppression, and her political reality. In other words, male bonding, despite moments of transcendence from it, in the end, prevails in "Proof". Martin and Andy are the odd guys in, Celia the odd woman out--that's what psychology does to politics. .

If you're blind people can fool you. They can lie to you. And if you're a photographer and you are blind, who will believe you? You need proof, and this is what Martin (Hugo Weaving) seeks. He is a man who projects onto others the lovelessness of his own soul. He believed as a child that his mother died to get away from the shame of having a son who was blind. Even as an adult he believed she lied to him. He goes to the mortuary and is led to her grave where he reads the head stone with his fingers. He asks the mortician if a coffin is sometimes buried empty. The mortician asks why anyone would do that. Martin suggests a prank. The mortician replies, "Seems like a pretty expensive prank." Martin spends his whole life obsessively seeking proof because he can trust no one. Until he meets Andy. He trusts Andy. It hardly need be said that Andy, played with boyish charm and just the right amount of discovery by Russell Crowe, will both disappoint Martin and teach him a lesson. Martin certainly needs some kind of lesson. He exploits his housekeeper Celia's obsessive love for him, tormenting her by keeping her on, while denying her love as he inflicts little humiliations. For her part Celia, played with a penetrating and desperate sexuality by Geneviève Picot, mothers him and seeks to dominate. She wants to keep Martin dependant on her in the hope that someday he will seek her love. She controls his life, teaching the dog to prefer her and to come to her when signaled. In her frustration she plays little tricks on Martin, such as putting objects in his path so he will run into them. When Andy threatens to become important to Martin, predictably she seduces him. Thus we have our triangle. Andy also serves as an objectifying device to underscore the obsessions of Martin and Celia. Jocelyn Moorhouse wrote and directed this original little masterpiece of dark humor from down under. She carefully worked out the character-driven story so that humor and tragedy are in balance and we experience the revelations from the perspective of all three characters. Nothing is fake or hackneyed and no one point of view is preferred. She has the gift of seeing more than one side of the human condition, and it is this gift that makes her scenes so effective. Note that the drive-in theater scene depends on our knowing what Martin is doing and why, while seeing his actions from the point of view of the bikers. He faces the bikers from the driver's seat in the next car and holds up a packet of prophylactics. The biker guy looks over and thinks that he is being taunted by a "fag." I have seen Moorhouse's How to Make an American Quilt (1995), which also explored the underlying psychological motives of human beings, but this is a better film. It will be interesting to see what she does next. (Note: Over 500 of my movie reviews are now available in my book "Cut to the Chaise Lounge or I Can't Believe I Swallowed the Remote!" Get it at Amazon!)

Having noticed a film crew shooting in the gardens at the end of my street, I eventually realized the film was "Proof". I thought I better check it out, and was pleasantly surprised with the result. I knew little about either Hugo Weaving or Russell Crowe at the time and thought they were both very good in it, especially Weaving. Like most Australian movies it was filmed on a low budget, and on this occasion produced very good results. If you enjoyed this for reasons other than the "Crowe Factor", you should try some other Aussie films. Eg. Malcolm (It's An Unreal Movie)

This is, simply put, a great movie. I won't go into the plot too much, as many other commenters do a good job of that. But suffice to say, the trio of Russell Crowe, Hugo Weaving and Genevieve Picot do more acting in this movie than is contained in all of the blockbusters the first two have made since. (I haven't seen Picot in anything else, so can't comment on her subsequent choices.) It is definitely a small movie. But that's not a bad thing. Most people's lives are small, and this movie is a good example of how even small events -- especially small events -- can have a huge impact on a person's life. The essential thing about the movie is not that it's about a blind guy. It's about a guy who is incapable (at the beginning, anyway) of trust. Which is why he must have "proof" of everything around him in the form of photographs (which he, paradoxically, cannot see himself, but must have described to him). By the end of the movie, he has grown enough, or become desperate enough, to try to trust Andy, and show him the most "most important photo I've ever taken." Genevieve Picot, as the suffering, love stricken housekeeper of Martin, is great. I wish I could see more of her work. This movie also has some really funny moments, and yes, the funniest line is "I forgot." The second funniest is "Brian." See the movie and you will understand (and laugh your ass off too). One final note: SEE THIS MOVIE!!!!! (Also: make sure to watch on a TV with good sound. It's important for the ending (the last moment before the credits roll).)

Aussie Films are much like the Ford Motor Company. They're either a world beater - or mainstream mediocrity! This little offering is the Shelby Mustang of 90's movie-making. Weaving is spellbinding (FORGET Agent Smith of THE MATRIX) as a blind photographer who has this unshakeable belief that people lie to him because of his blindness. His world revolves around photographs that others must visually interpret for him. He has a housekeeper that wishes she could do more than housekeep and the day he meets Andy, a dishwasher at the local restaurant, is the first day of a new beginning...but for who? Suffice to say, Crowe as Andy shows all the portents of future stardom simply by being Russell Crowe. He is superb without really doing anything. For just a three character film, this is spellbinding stuff (much like THE INTERVIEW). No more need be divulged. I would simply say this is one of the best films I have ever seen. It deserved every award it won. This is a 10! See it!

This deliciously enticing bit of cinema from Down Under revolves around the activities of three people: A mistrustful blind man, a desperate, love-hungry woman, a misguided young man, and what happens when these three paths intersect. Martin is a misanthropic blind man, whose unshakable mistrust of humanity compels him to compulsively take photographs of everything around him. So deeply-rooted is his paranoia that he believes his own mother rejected him because of his handicap, and so deceived him in her descriptions of the world. Martin took a picture--his first--of a garden his mother customarily described to him, as evidence that she had lied. Martin's paranoia that anyone might be lying to him has shaped the rest of his life, growing up to become uncompromising and fiercely independent. He behaves callously in his only human interaction--with his rancorous housekeeper, Celia. Celia is obsessively, possessively in love with Martin. But their relationship is a prickly one, marked with cruelty and malice on both parts. Martin, aware of Celia's desire for him, uses the knowledge as a weapon--tormenting her by keeping her on, but rebuffing her attempts. In return, Celia spitefully rearranges the furniture so Martin will run into it and exploits his dependency on her to boost her own ego. Years later, Martin is still a photographer, but now he wants someone he can trust to describe his first photo to him, thus giving him the 'proof' of a long-dead mother's love. This someone happens to be Andy, a dishwasher at a local restaurant. But when Andy threatens to become too great an influence in Martin's life, Celia, feeling her territory has been violated, sets out to discredit Andy--using her sexuality to control both men. "Proof" could all so easily have slipped into melodramatic theatrics, but the film skips nimbly along the line, managing to evade all potential traps. Most of the credit is due to the adroit, agile script and the outstanding performances from the cast. Jocelyn Moorhouse, the film's director and writer, has the innate gift of comprehending, capturing, and conveying the human condition so aptly, so that the audience is deftly drawn into these characters' lives. The film doesn't rely on a contrived plot to induce interest; these ordinary characters are intrinsically fascinating simply because of who they are. The acting is superb, making for a fabulous ensemble piece. Hugo Weaving renders a thoughtful performance as Martin, convincingly portraying a man who has closed himself off so effectively against the possibility that he might get hurt, that he has cut off the possibility of feeling. Genevieve Picot is likewise excellent, marvelously calculating, yet vulnerable as Celia. And Russel Crowe radiates an already unmistakable and irresistible charisma on-screen in this early role as Andy. His easy-going, honest, bloke-next-door charm is utterly appealing--a far cry from later roles in "L.A. Confidential" and "Gladiator", showing his incredible acting range. This diabolically clever, enormously witty, and refreshingly original film can be hilariously funny at some times, genuinely heart-rending at others, and an all-round brilliant bit of cinema. Well-worth a look.

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source: Proof