IFFR 2021 - Lone Wolf
IFFRWith two films now under his belt, director Jonathan Ogilvie’s already recurrent collaborations with Hugo Weaving are beginning to show brief signs of success. Their latest feature together, Lone Wolf, offers dystopian-style drama, following Winnie (Tilda Cobham-Hervey) through a series of surveillance cameras and the corrupt politician who watches her and her loved ones’ actions. This compelling narrative of double-crossing threads makes for a remarkable initial story, but Ogilvie and his crew don’t manage to put the pieces together, fumbling instead their way through a story of grey characters, with dark intentions and unconvincing yet driven opportunities that vindicate or distort their actions.
Villainy for Weaving is clear. The elusive notations of his suited character, simply referred to as the “Minister”, are part and parcel of his twilight years. As he swirls a brandy and brushes off the concern of those around him, Lone Wolf comes head-to-head with a narrative cliché that was set out decades before, by the great writers of our time. Pangs of George Orwell are the obvious conclusion to draw, but Lone Wolf tries to kindle the tongue-in-cheek charms of Brazil and pair it with the gritty, unrelenting criticism of totalitarian governments. Is it a coincidence that Weaving also appeared in V for Vendetta? Probably, yes, but it provides a good basis of reference for what Lone Wolf is crawling toward. Sluggish at times, the odd nature of the novel narrative of surveillance cameras is more of a drag than a draw.
Perhaps the main reason for this lack of a powerful story and the ability to garner interest in its characters is the sporadic utilisation of its single innovation. Surveillance as a topic in dystopian fiction is a steadfast theme, one that appears often and reaps few rewards. Ogilvie soon forgets about the niche theme he looks to include, as the shine of this trinket fades rather immediately. Weaving falls to the wayside too, but Chris Bunton and Tyler Coppin have some varyingly decent supporting performances that make up the odd bit of background noise. These layers of storytelling are thin and opaque, the double-crosses and sense of fear have little impact outside of the turgid, predictable results Lone Wolf barrels towards.
Whatever Lone Wolf is attempting to convey, it doesn’t really get it across. Surveillance and the breaches of privacy it brings are mused on throughout, but there is no clear message or point, and when Ogilvie pairs his audience with a cast of relatively flat and underwhelming characters, the burden becomes heavier and heavier. Not without its moments, though; Lone Wolf is not a lost cause. It just lacks the edge other dystopian dramas provide, feeling like a tonal mess at the most important of times. Had Ogilvie pursued one singular thread and theme for his film, Lone Wolf would be less messy, far greater than a series of vaguely interconnected CCTV tapes.