A fine cast scuttles around, to rapidly diminishing returns, in London-set dramedy "Chromophobia," an over-long ensembler set among a bunch of self-absorbed neurotics that starts as a wannabe comedy and later expects auds to sympathize with its characters' plight. Sophomore outing by writer-director Martha Fiennes ("Onegin") could marginally profit from curiosity over its tony cast, but its highest profile may turn out to be its selection as closing film of the 58th Cannes fest, where it followed in the line of recent duds like "De-Lovely" and "Ladies and Gentlemen..."

Pic starts out in promising fashion as it rapidly intros a raft of characters in ironic style. An eight-year-old boy, Orlando (Clem Tibber), watches a breast-implant video, while his mom, art dealer Iona Aylesbury (Kristin Scott Thomas), concentrates on her zen exercises in their post-modern, minimalist home, all glass frontage and white walls.

Iona's husband, Marcus (Damian Lewis), is a financial lawyer who, to his great surprise, is suddenly elevated to partner in his snooty City firm. On the fringes of the family is Stephen Tulloch (Ralph Fiennes, brother of helmer Martha), a pedophile art historian who's godfather to the introverted, mixed-up Orlando.

Also in the mix is Marcus' old friend, Trent (Ben Chaplin), an investigative journalist who's being harried for a real story by his bitch-on-wheels boss; and, at a much lower end of the income scale, single Spanish mom Gloria Ramirez de Arroyo (Penelope Cruz), who moonlights as a hooker and whose case is assigned to newbie social worker Colin (Rhys Ifans).

Cross-cutting between all these characters -- including Marcus' dad, retired judge Edward (Ian Holm), and Marcus' rose-pruning stepmother, Penelope (Harriet Walter) -- film seems to position itself as a wry comedy on screwed-up achievers, with Gloria and Colin's story in there for, uh, social balance. But it soon becomes clear that Martha Fiennes' uninspired direction -- very different from her sweeping, Russian-set costumer "Onegin" -- and forcedly witty dialogue just isn't jelling consistently on any level. (In a possible first, pic's d.p. is credited with "additional screenplay material.")

Things turn much more serious after the halfway point as Marcus gets drawn into illegal financial maneuvers by a high-up politico; Trent decides to break his friend's confidence and publish the details; Stephen's propensity for young male flesh proves his undoing; and the sexually frustrated Iona obsesses about whether to have a boobs job. Viewers are then expected to become emotionally involved with them.

Aside from Scott Thomas, who has her comic moments as brittle, shopaholic Iona, most of the cast are leveled by the script and the pic's lack of comedic or dramatic rhythm. Ralph Fiennes tiptoes through the role of the gay godfather; Lewis is considerably better in the first half than second; Chaplin competently incarnates a typical movie-style journo; and Cruz, despite performing a pole-dance in her scanties, leaves no impression at all.

Lensing by George Tiffin is pro but no more, and Magnus Fiennes' score fails to provide much shape or viewer involvement. Use of Beethoven's 9th Symphony over the final reel seems more an act of artistic desperation than anything else. Title refers to a color-changing art installation that Iona buys to hang on her living-room wall.

Camera (color), George Tiffin; editor, Tracy Granger; music, Magnus Fiennes; production designer, Tony Burrough; costume designer, Michele Clapton; make-up, Darren Evans; sound (Dolby), Mark Holding; additional screenplay material, Tiffin; casting, Lucy Bevan. Reviewed at Cannes Film Festival (non-competing, closer), May 20, 2005. Running time: 136 MIN.

It's hard to find a more impressive lineup of British talent: Kristin Scott Thomas, Damien Lewis, Ian Holm, Ralph Fiennes, and Penélope Cruz. A glance at the poster and you'd assume this film will make it big. Indeed, with all that red carpet potential, Chromophobia closed Cannes Film Festival in 2005. But it's only now - more than 18 months later - that we get to glimpse a UK release, only on a single London screen, and only if you dare after reading the distinctly mixed reviews.

It has been a nightmare journey for writer-director Martha Fiennes, whose outstanding skill as a film-maker we've known since Onegin (1999). While there has been trouble with the business side, however, you can't help but wonder if whispers of nepotism have worked against her with the critics. Is there some kind of feeling out there that if you have easy access to talent you deserve a cruel grilling?

Britain can be a funny old place when it comes to class. We'd rather support a one-dimensional gritty flick about working class struggle - something we've seen time and time again in different guises - than we would a complex, brave piece of writing about the emotional poverty and contraction of privilege like Chromophobia. Anyone would think we had it in for the upper classes. This is strangely uncharted territory for our screens. We're happy to watch the rich if they're in period dramas, or based in LA, but when it comes to the realities of over-privileged Londoners we find ourselves bristling and becoming hyper-critical. And so, in this context, it seems we just can't tolerate flaws, however admirable the intent.



Chromophobia is hugely refreshing in its ambition and complexity. As one woman said after a screening last week: "At last! A grown-up film!" - something we could do with a lot more of in Britain. The parallel plots aren't equally successful and a prudent producer might have been a little more ruthless with the less effective elements. But it's testament to the intelligence and insight of Fiennes's writing that the film keeps the audience captivated and responsive, despite undeniably weaker strands. Characters are brilliantly observed, aided by some stunning performances (Lewis, Holm and Scott Thomas stand out for me). Give me a film that dares to sometimes fail over tried and tested dullness any day.

We held a Q&A with Fiennes and the cinematographer George Tiffin at the sell-out Birds Eye View First Weekenders Club event last Friday. Not everyone, of course, said their piece but the buzzing praise and engagement from the audience felt genuine and deserved. We haven't been instructed by British critics or our film industry to support Chromophobia, but I say let's dare to. And here's hoping Fiennes dares to delight us again with another feature just as soon as she's recovered from this one.