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We're talking non-sense

So, true story. A couple of years ago I’m walking into town from a particularly crap sports bar on Sauchiehall Street, and as I hit the corner with Dalhousie St get stopped by some woman with a walkie talkie.

“Sorry, you can’t cross the road yet,” she says.

“How come?”

“Horse hasn’t finished yet.”

At which point a big chestnut horse comes wandering past out of some fog. Then there’s a shout from the film crew up the hill, and she lets me cross the road.

Instead I stuck around and watched them film a couple of takes, as a car drives up Dalhousie St (which, if you don’t know it, is a hell of a steep gradient) past the horse.  Whoever was in it was giving a masterclass in hillstarts.

Just another Sunday in Glasgow…

The horse, the woman and the film crew were all there shooting a scene for Perfect Sense, which has finally – after what seems like a hell of a delay – opened in cinemas.

As with von Trier’s Melancholia (which we review on the latest podcast) it’s a movie with an apocalyptic backdrop against which director David Mackenzie explores a story of human emotions. But rather than the bleak journey through depression which the Dane takes viewers, Mackenzie’s film is a look at humanity’s natural instinct to cope and to survive against the odds.

The apocalypse here is vague and sensory – literally – rather than a physical threat. A mysterious condition sweeps the world, which leaves sufferers feeling a moment of grief and sadness, before losing their sense of smell. Glasgow-based epidemiologist Susan is among those struggling to diagnose and treat this new condition, even as it claims more victims around the world.

At the same time, she meets Michael – a chef working in the restaurant next to her flat. Both are damaged people – he emotionally from his failure to support his dying fiancee, she emotionally and physically from an eating disorder when she was a child. Brought together by the loss of their own olfactory systems, they fall into a relationship just as the world starts to go to hell around them.

Other senses are soon removed. Taste disappears, after a moment of paranoid despair, followed by hearing – taken from everyone after a sudden outburst of aggression and anger. And the impact of these is felt as much on a personal level between Michael and Susan as it is on a catastrophically global level.

Mackenzie’s film makes great use of the cliche about other senses kicking in – not within the plot, but within the way he tells the story, depicting how a world without taste or smell deals with things such as food, or bathing, or how a world without sound communicates and appreciates music.

Of most impact is the moment hearing is removed from the main characters. From thereon in the film exists largely without sound – only a sporadic voiceover, a sparse incidental score and a few moments of heavy bass, simulating the vibrations Michael feels as he attends a gig in this newly mute society.

Michael’s world as a chef shows how the minutiae of something so global would impact. While Susan struggles to find a cause and cure for the disease, he has to worry about things like people not wanting to eat in restaurants when they can’t taste or smell the food.

So dining becomes a tactile experience, about the textures and temperatures, and about the sound the foods make when combined – the snap of a popadom, the fizzing of water.

The reason for this is hammered home – none too subtly at times – by the repetition of the line ‘Life carries on.’ Whereas Melancholia is about the failure to cope with impending disaster, here folk continue until they are unable. Moments of panic and chaos, then an almost blitz spirit approach of getting on with things. Thus restaurants continue, binmen still lift the rubbish and gigs still take place. People still smoke and drink and have sex, they just adapt their enjoyment in new ways.

Mackenzie dabbles in showing us the planet around Glasgow – brief glimpses of African and Latin countries as they cope in their newly changed world, soundbites from Obama and other world leaders dropped in to give realism to the events – but ultimately contains the disaster to two people, and those immediately around them. In many ways, it makes the whole thing seem slightly claustrophobic – the drama rarely ventures out of the Merchant City, let alone out of the country – but also emphasises the small, slightly damaged relationship between the two leads.

McGregor – who seems to be having quite the year for quirky romantic roles – shows the sort of acting chops that made him a star. The role gives him full range to portray his emotions – and, obviously, get his cock out – as the triggers to remove his senses take hold. Especially chilling when he loses his hearing, and goes on a bitterly dark rage directed at Susan before trashing his flat, his aggression directed at things of notable aural value – such as his jukebox, record sleeves and telephones.

Green is less convincing – although, like McGregor, does trigger her obligatory nudity clause – though the overwritten nature of her character doesn’t help matters. While Michael is drawn sketchily, and filled in through performance, Susan is overburdened with backstory, family, connections to the outbreak and unlikely character traits (calling everyone sailor particularly jars) which seem to swamp Green’s work.

But there is, at least, a sense of them being a real couple, and finding support from each other, on screen, which makes the ending all the more poignant and impactful. While obvious in which direction the film’s going, that doesn’t stop Mackenzie throwing one last clever trick into the mix, giving the final scenes – as everyone suffers a moment of joy and love before facing the loss of their sight – deserved positivity.

There’s a nice surrounding cast too – with McGregor reunited with Trainspotting chum Ewen Bremner and uncle Denis Lawson at the restaurant, and Stephen Dillane and Alastair Mackenzie at the hospital.

The only real bugbear is Postmortem Syndrome, or CGB – cinematic geographical bollocks. Good luck to anyone who lives or knows Glasgow well in trying to work out exactly where things are happening at any one time, as streets apparently connect at random with each other. Organising the Perfect Sense walking tour should be a challenge, at any rate.

Oh, and of course, there’s another chance to play the Thumbcast’s favourite game – where’s Eva supposed to be from this week?  Using your skill and judgment, spin a globe and stick a pin in it wherever you think her accent’s supposed to be from in the movie.  Chances are, no matter where you hit, it’ll be right.

But that’s being picky. Perfect Sense is a surprisingly charming film, as much about the human condition as it is about global condition. It’s definitely not to be sniffed at.