MOVIE REVIEW : ‘Formality’ a Brilliant Duel of Wits

Giuseppe Tornatore’s “A Pure Formality,” from the maker of “Cinema Paradiso,” quite literally opens with a bang--and never lets up. With the sound of a gunshot ringing in our ears the camera assumes the point of view of a person running through a dark, rainy forest. Eventually we discover the person is a large, heavy man (Gerard Depardieu), wet, disheveled and distraught. On a road he’s stopped by police and taken into custody for questioning when he can’t produce identification.

Once at the police station--an ancient, crumbling stone structure with the leakiest roof in the world and seemingly in the middle of nowhere (but apparently in France)--Depardieu behaves with hostility and outrage, complaining that he’ll be late for a meeting with the minister of culture. His situation initially doesn’t improve with the arrival of the station’s inspector (Roman Polanski). He has a hard time convincing him that he is in fact Onoff, a renowned writer and a particular hero of the Inspector, who can quote from Onoff’s novels at length.

Things now are looking up: dried off and cleaned up, Onoff is all set to leave, ready to be driven home to his nearby mountain retreat. That’s when the Inspector, with deceptive casualness, says that he has a few more questions to ask Onoff, who can’t account for the two hours leading up to his arrest or why he was out wandering in the mud and the rain in the first place. It’s “a pure formality,” the Inspector insists.

We know better, for from the outset Tornatore, who co-wrote his film with Pascale Quignard, has created an unsettling atmosphere, the kind that makes you feel something is not quite right, but you’re not sure what. In any event, the Inspector--diminutive, humble yet fundamentally sharp and steely--commences a remorseless interrogation that has the effect of confronting Onoff with his life and his failings, all that memory tends to erase.

Punctuated with fragments from Onoff’s memories, “A Pure Formality” becomes a crackling duel of wits--brilliantly written and directed--between two formidable presences: Polanski, in his first substantial acting role since his own macabre “The Tenant” nearly 20 years ago, and Depardieu, who is towering as a man baring his soul. The result, in part, is a remarkable revelation of what it can mean to be a writer and what writing is all about, in particular the notion that to write is “to lose consciousness.”

With its mood-setting Ennio Morricone score, “A Pure Formality” is quite compelling, but you have to be alert throughout to feel fully the strong, reeling impact of its out-of-left-field finish. Right after Onoff is arrested he mutters that his predicament seems out of a “Hollywood B-movie.” Precisely. For what Tornatore has done is to bring a rich intellectual and philosophical dimension to a familiar ‘40s Hollywood plot. The beautifully crafted “A Pure Formality” plays the way an Agatha Christie novel unfolds: When it is over you realize in retrospect that Tornatore has planted clues all along the way.

* MPAA rating: PG-13, for brief, shocking violence and momentary language. Times guidelines: In addition to some four-letter words and some jolting brutality, the film is also too complex in style and theme for most children.

‘A Pure Formality’

Gerard Depardieu: Onoff

Roman Polanski: The Inspector

Sergio Rubini: Andre, the young policeman

Tano Cimarosa: The Old Attendant

A Sony Pictures Classics release of an Italo-French co-production C.G. Tiger Cinematografica (Rome) and Film par Film (Paris). Director-editor Giuseppe Tornatore. Screenplay by Tornatore and Pascale Quignard; from a story by Tornatore. Producers Mario and Vittorio Cecchi Gori. Executive producers Bruno Altissimi and Claudio Saranceni. Cinematographer Blasco Giurato. Music Ennio Morricone. Costumes Beatrice Bordone. Production designer Andrea Crisanti. In French, with English subtitles. Running time: 1 hour, 50 minutes.

* In exclusive engagement at the Sunset 5, 8000 Sunset Blvd., (213) 848-3500; and the Monica 4-Plex, 1332 2nd. St., Santa Monica, (310) 394-9741.