The Double is the kind of film that went over better when there was a Cold War. The sets are drab and depressing. The lighting is dim. The oft-errant technology is identified with the same label-maker stickies that adorned cookie jars in the 1970s. The desperate isolation is palpable. Brazil introduced us to this kind of bureaucratic dystopia. I’m pretty sure it was mocking the standards of Soviet bleakness. What’s your excuse, Double? Even without an Iron Curtain to mock, I know this about the world of The Double: you don’t want to live here; you don’t want to work here; you don’t want to be here.
Simon James (Jesse Eisenberg) is a cog, and not an important one. He shuffles around in a two-sizes-too-large suit and skulks with that frowny face of his hoping something good will happen, but never believing it will. He’s stalking Hannah (Mia Wasikowska), the only pretty face in this entire nightmare world. Simon makes excuses to see her, not quite daring to ask her out. He follows her off the train; he waits for her to pass in a corridor. He gets chastised for only making one copy when he needs two. Hannah works with the functioning copier in the office collective, you see. The two live in the same apartment complex where Simon takes time from crappy 70s sci-fi to spy her across the courtyard through a telescope. Every night, she paints a watercolor with a base of her own blood(!), waits for it to dry, then shreds and tosses it. Simon races to the garbage room below and saves the pieces from the incinerator. Weirded out yet? Good, because there’s more.
Enter James Simon (also Jesse Eisenberg). Same unruly hair; same apartment complex; same too-large suit. And yet, James works it. The patent frowny-face Eisenberg melts into the patent smarmy-confident Eisenberg with ease. There’s humor here in that nobody else seems to recognize that Simon and James are essentially the same person. This, of course, made me wonder if two actually were the same person and The Double was a take on schizophrenia (i.e our literal fragmentation) more than, say, a study of our dual nature (i.e. our figurative fragmentation). Luckily, I’m not terribly fresh on my Fyodor Dostoevsky, so I could be mildly surprised, e
ven if this turned out to be another Fight Club.
It’s funny how we end up rooting for the meeker version (Simon). We know he’s been wronged as we see James take from him his rightful place in the company and at Hannah’s side. There’s even a nifty bit of blackmail in which James does naughty things, takes pictures, and gets Simon to concede without Simon committing a single transgression. Note to self: if I ever encounter my doppelgänger, play nice. (And, yes, I really wanted to use the word “doppelgänger.”) This is one of the more easily imagined screenplays from a different perspective. I would love to see the version where the director sympathizes with the aggressive twin and applauds him for gaining with the same tools where his mirror fails.
A few years back (essentially before The Social Network happened), I couldn’t tell Jesse Eisenberg from Michael Cera. Movies mock me sometimes. Jesse here plays essentially the same dual roles as Michael did for Youth in Revolt: one quirky shy Jesse, one aggressive confident Jesse. One loser, one winner. I’m happy there’s no porn moustache involved in this version. And minus that little detail, I’m giving the edge in these twin studies to The Double.
Hey, can’t you see
That guy is me
In fact he’s better
Most definitely
Now I’m up a tree
Because: replace-y
Is that my would-be
With him?
This won’t stand
Rated R, 93 Minutes
D: Richard Ayoade
W: Richard Ayoade, Avi Korine
Genre: The dystopia where we all have shitty jobs and bleak one-room apartments
Type of person most likely to enjoy this film: People who think Brazil was underrated
Type of person least likely to enjoy this film: Do you identify with the guy who never gets the girl?
