(IMAGE: Push HCV LLC)
Vertical Entertainment. 2021. Romance/Drama. 94 minutes.
RATING: 2 / 4
When you aren’t sure if your spouse is cheating, hire a private investigator. But if you want to know if they ever hypothetically might cheat under the right circumstances, hire a decoy. Just be careful what you ask for, and maybe consider background checks first.
Or, and perhaps this is a crazy notion, perhaps consider trusting the person with whom you have a lifetime commitment. Nahhh. Not if you’re a character in a movie like Trust. Then there’d be no drama; just a story of two healthy, well-adjusted people who take their vows seriously. And trust the other to do the same.
Owen (Matthew Daddario) is a local TV newscaster in New York, best known for human interest and comedy stories, though he longs to do more serious work. His wife Brooke (Victoria Justice) just quit a day job at Sotheby’s to launch her own gallery. Each one badly needs the support of the other, but doesn’t have the time to reciprocate. A baby is part of the larger plan, but not even in the conception stage yet. Owen wants the two of them to spend a Christmas in Paris, and have some decent alone time. But even an offer which sounds that irresistible proves difficult to accept on their accelerated work schedules.
Enter temptation, times two. For Brooke, it’s an erotic artist named Ansgar (Lucien Laviscount), whom she represents, and who whisks her to Paris for a business deal. For Owen, it’s a hot blonde aspiring journalist named Amy (Katherine McNamara) who fancies herself his number-one fan. And nobody quite seems to have the moral high ground in this situation.
Ironically in hindsight, Harvey Weinstein’s Miramax probably could have made a hit of this back in the ’90s, with the right stars in the right roles. In this case, the actors chosen aren’t as likely to draw the audience. Justice is a former Nickelodeon child star and a recording artist, and it’s a compliment to say she comes off as neither during Trust. But for the same reason, she seems unlikely to draw her most ardent fans from previous lives. Daddario’s best known for having a more famous sister, Alexandria, though he and McNamara have previously worked together on the Shadowhunters TV series.
Whether a low-key erotic drama without megastars is saleable or not isn’t the critic’s problem, in the end. More important is the narrative, adapted by director Brian DeCubellis, K.S. Bruce, and Kristen Lazarian from Lazarian’s play Push (not by Sapphire). The script pulls some nifty backtracks to give us new information and change the tone of scenes we’ve already seen, but then it feels like it ends too soon. Without trying to spoil here, the resolution seems a lot less complicated than it ought to be. And that might be fine if the story had made some grand point about the way people are. But the closest it gets is to imply that sex isn’t the only form of cheating. And, less palatable, if you make a homeless black man into a celebrity, he will behave like an uninhibited libido on legs, successfully seducing every woman he encounters, then painting them naked.
Cinematographer David Tumblety creates a city-at-night atmosphere that feels both real (the brownish tones from actual streetlights) and fantastic (New York restaurant Panna II, as covered in colored lights as a highland sheep is in wool). But while DeCubellis and producer Steve Klinsky tout the importance of authentic locations in the film’s press notes, they never quite go the extra mile and have the locations or the look reflect the story beats or moods, beyond some obvious interior uses of blue and red lighting. It’s great to have nice locations, but one rarely gets the sense that they are helping to tell the tale rather than just looking awesome.
There’s nothing too painful overall to watch about Trust…but maybe there should be? Are we supposed to be hurt by the antics of its leads, or just root for soap-opera style catfights? I feel like the film wants me to say the former, but honestly, an ending in the Thunderdome would have been just fine. I appreciate the aspiration to art, but just like Ansgar’s erotic paintings, I’d like to see them reach for even more.
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