Silver Tongues (2011, Simon Arthur)

59/100

MASSIVE SPOILERS. If you're into oddball films even when they're flawed, watch this one cold and come back to read my thoughts later.

Silver Tongues, as a title, suggests a certain practiced smoothness that isn't quite what this film showcases, but I suppose The Mindfuckers had some commercial drawbacks. First-time filmmaker Simon Arthur (who hasn't yet directed a followup, 14 years later, probably because virtually nobody saw his debut) starts pulling bait-and-switches almost immediately, introducing young honeymooners who appear to be the film's protagonists but turn out to be just the first of many...is "victims" the right word? What do you call it when someone's goal is nothing more or less than to instill chaos and doubt, strictly for the sadistic (and psychosexual) fun of it? As Gerry and Joan, a couple of uncertain provenance—they variously claim to be married or siblings, just like the White Stripes—Lee Tergesen (who I know mostly from Oz) and Enid Graham (a familiar small-role face—she's in House of Dynamite right now—making the most of a rare lead part) create a pair of ordinary-looking Jokers who just want to watch the world burn, running the equivalent of short cons that aim not to score money but to feed their need for schadenfreude. Think of Merteuil's revenge on Valmont, except directed at total strangers for no apparent reason. My favorite scene, set in a church, sees them actually do some good, manipulating parishioners into filling what had been a nearly empty collection plate...but at the expense of one semi-destroyed life and the faith of all present. There's also a sub-narrative regarding who's in control of this twisted performance-art project, which I didn't love until it dawned on me that we might be seeing role play even when Gerry and Joan are by themselves (which eventually gets more or less confirmed). Both actors are superb, but Graham has to pull off an especially tricky high-wire act by the end, masking steeliness with vulnerability rather than the other way around.

Hate to say it, but what dings Silver Tongues significantly are just basic plausibility issues. For one thing, some of what we see requires major hindsight rationalization on the viewer's part—you can juuuuust about make it work, with some effort, but there's no question that certain things exist solely as misdirection for those watching the film, and would almost certainly not happen "in real life." That bothers me less, than, though, than does each scene's One Big I Don't Think So. Because each one's different, and collectively they undermine a scenario that's psychologically tenuous to begin with and so really needs to be meticulous about verisimilitude in every other respect. Opening scene's the...best offender? Opposite of worst offender, anyway—I just didn't quite buy the speed with which matters escalate, and in particular did not believe that Alex, upon being caught checking out Joan's rack, would say "I can still look, can't I?" (or words to that effect), rather than a denial or an apology. That's pure screenwriter fiat. Also had trouble accepting that none of the churchfolk would question the presence of those two strangers (it looks like a congregation small enough that people would know each other by sight, at least), and really couldn't swallow that elderly dude's conveniently variable degree of lucidity. Each of their fucked-up escapades requires everything to go absolutely perfectly, and here we don't get a wry acknowledgement of the unlikelihood (à la The Game's invitation that provides a 21-minute window during which Nicholas is anticipated to crash through the ceiling). Also, I see now that Arthur expanded the feature from a previous short he'd made, and it has a short film's narrowness of purpose, concluding with a punchline of sorts. Still, happy to have been prodded to see something so unusual, anchored by two terrific actors who almost never get opportunities this juicy.