There is no Briony

We declared Friday night a movies' night and I finally saw Atonement, one of the Oscar-nominated motion pictures this year. It was nominated in seven categories, including Best Picture. Probably it will also win some – my movie sniffing nose has never been precise in knowing who will win and who won't.

Anyway, as we saw the film at nearly 3AM, there is little of the dialogues I do remember, and probably they weren't even meant to be that interesting, as the cinematography was absolutely dazzling. This is a classic movie, with classic pictures and some annoyingly good scenes, set in a rich mansion of the 1930s England, some time before the war began. The love story (yes, there is one) unravels quite suddenly but is predictable, except for the double perspective, which is not something you necessarily expect; the watchers are shown what really happens and also how the scenes are seen by a 13-year old Briony, the main female character's sister. Not having yet outgrown the innocence of her age and thus only understanding half-truths of her sister's love story, she tells a lie which changes lives and gives life to a book she will analyse years later.

With the epic storyline, you would expect some more intricacy on character level – but they don't become very complex, although well played. It's the usual He (James McAvoy, really cool) in love with Her (Keira Knightley, at her most beautiful), not knowing if he will return from the war safely to marry and love her, and it's the She who only shines in the pre-war moments (the rest is a combination of “Come back to me” mantras and arrow-looks pointed at the younger sister). What “Atonement” does, however, is to erase the thin line between what is real and what can be imagined as being real in love. Briony is trying to find atonement for her childhood lie by restoring what should have been real, the life that should have been lived. The end of the story gives little encouragement, though. You start wondering if there was a point – at all, and if a few moments of bliss could justify the suffering. In Cold Mountain, for example, there was a sort of an ending, because both character's travels were directed to the future, to the hope that they would see one another again. In Atonement, all you can ask yourself is if forgiveness should be granted to the story – or to the deceiver.

Hair that twirls on finger tips so gently, baby
Hands that rest on jutting hips repenting
Hurt that's not supposed to show
And tears that fall when no one knows
When you're trying hard to be your best
Could you be a little less
(Madonna, Do you know what it feels like for a girl)