‘Foe’ Review: Soul Mates
A fascinating premise running on just vibes and movie star charisma, the sci-fi drama 'Foe' barely registers a pulse.
Slow and steady do not prove a winning formula for Foe (★★☆☆☆), director Garth Davis’ sterile adaptation of the 2018 sci-fi novel by Iain Reid. Davis and Reid co-wrote the film, which unfolds like a novel, allowing ample space to imagine the inner lives of its characters, though the filmmakers might have done more to realize the world beyond married couple Hen and Junior, and the tall, handsome stranger who shows up uninvited one day at their isolated Midwest farmhouse.
The year is 2065, and, predictably, fresh water and habitable land are globally scarce. Still, Hen and Junior, all alone on their patch of prairie, and played by awards darlings Saoirse Ronan and Paul Mescal, appear none the worse for wear. In fact, cinematographer Mátyás Erdély shoots the toothsome pair like models in a perfume ad, particularly Ronan.
Outfitted in chic skirts and blouses, Hen often — and you’d be surprised how often — takes long, pensive walks around the farm, and across picturesque salt flats where she and Junior kiss each other hungrily. Elsewhere on the planet, catastrophic storms, heat, and droughts are ravaging life as we know it, but these two still look photo shoot-ready all the time. A wild stallion shows up out of nowhere, as if to complete the picture.
We might expect Charlize Theron to march over a sun-kissed heath announcing Dior’s latest fragrance, but the only person who shows up on the farm is that mysterious stranger, Terrance (Aaron Pierre). Terrance also could be a model, but actually represents a company called OuterMore, which, in light of this planet’s fast-depleting resources, is launching an “off-Earth habitation” program.
They’re sending folks to live on a colossal space station, and through a rigorous, not totally plausible internal process, OuterMore has selected Junior for the program — but just Junior. He’d have to leave Hen behind on this dying planet, though she wouldn’t be alone.
OuterMore intends to replace Junior with “a dynamic copy” — basically a clone — to keep Hen company. So she has nothing to worry about, right? Of course, there’s plenty for Hen, Junior, and even Terrance to ruminate over as the couple’s dilemma — should Junior stay or should he go? — prompts questions about what it means to be human, and what it means to be or not be the one and only version of you that exists.
Can the love that binds Hen and Junior withstand the strain of merely contemplating this opportunity, let alone following through with it? The setup intrigues, but, ultimately, the execution doesn’t inspire.
Davis stages the action almost entirely on the farm, which might have generated a greater sense of intimacy, but also feels stifling. Except for a few brief glimpses of Hen working as a smartly dressed diner waitress, and Junior at his mind-numbingly repetitive job on a factory line processing chicken, they exist in their own bubble, disconnected from the cataclysmic changes affecting other humans.
The movie lifts off once or twice to the stratosphere for tidy, CGI shots of the slowly orbiting space station, and offers a briefly exciting dust storm that blows in, engulfing Hen and Junior’s farm. Alternately, the pair spends a lot of time wandering the wide-open range, in their truck or on foot.
Usually, though, they and the story tread the boards inside the farmhouse, sometimes with Terrance, the whole trio like actors in a play about the end of the world, characters removed from real events.
That uncanny atmosphere is accentuated by all the past-century signifiers, from the conspicuously 200-year-old farmhouse, to Hen’s prairie couture wardrobe, and the oldies soundtrack, which makes prominent use of Joyce Heath’s haunting 1961 country hit “I Wouldn’t Dream of It,” and Brenda Lee’s 1963 ballad “The End of the World.”
“Why do the birds go on singing, why do the stars glow above/ Don’t they know it’s the end of the world, it ended when I lost your love,” Lee sings, summing up the drama succinctly. Ronan brings a similar subdued elegance to her performance as Hen, the movie’s most compelling character, doomed to wonder “Why not me?”, and forced to wrap her mind and body around the idea of living with a copy of her husband.
Hen does much of that pondering while pounding out Michael Nyman-esque piano suites on the upright in the cellar. Junior’s off sobbing naked in a barn or something. Overwrought and overly precious at the same time, Foe leads us to imagine a fascinating, futuristic world out there, full of twists we might not anticipate, and then keeps us stuck in this house.
Foe is Rated R and is playing in select theaters. Visit www.fandango.com.
Support Metro Weekly’s Journalism
These are challenging times for news organizations. And yet it’s crucial we stay active and provide vital resources and information to both our local readers and the world. So won’t you please take a moment and consider supporting Metro Weekly with a membership? For as little as $5 a month, you can help ensure Metro Weekly magazine and MetroWeekly.com remain free, viable resources as we provide the best, most diverse, culturally-resonant LGBTQ coverage in both the D.C. region and around the world. Memberships come with exclusive perks and discounts, your own personal digital delivery of each week’s magazine (and an archive), access to our Member's Lounge when it launches this fall, and exclusive members-only items like Metro Weekly Membership Mugs and Tote Bags! Check out all our membership levels here and please join us today!
