Stanley Kubrick is quoted as stating that Patrick Süskind’s novel, Perfume: The Story of a Murderer, to be unfilmable. However, the mere act of German director Tom Tykwer setting the tale to celluloid doesn’t mean that Kubrick is incorrect because the American director is of course implying that the novel couldn’t be successfully set to screen. The reason for this is largely due to the author having created the seemingly impossible: To pen a tale in which smell is the primary stimuli, the “impossibility” being that the sense cannot elicit memory recall. For example, when we hear the word “cat,” a person can easily bring forth the image of a feline in one’s mind or hear the animal’s meow. However, when the term “rose” is uttered, one cannot evoke the remembered scent of the flower. Yet herein lies the paradox: Süskind availed his reader to experiencing what Kubrick declared (by implication) was unfeasible. As such, the sentiment that the same could not be accomplished, not through the printed page, but via the silver screen does not so much become a contradiction so much as yet another challenge unto itself, ergo, if the impossible could be done on the page, why not the screen?
Eighteenth century Paris: Jean-Baptiste Grenouille (Ben Whishaw) is born with Hyperosmia. However, with his exacting olfactory sense comes a price: He is without his own personal scent. As a consequence, he is driven to supplement what in his mind is a lack of identity by way of capturing the ultimate fragrance. The rub is that he is willing to accomplish his task at any price.
Perfume’s agenda is to present and explore the nature of obsession. Not unlike the figure of Humbert Humbert in Vladimir Nabakov’s Lolita, Jean-Baptiste’s fixation stems from a young girl who perishes before he can readily obtain her. However, our sympathy for Tykwer’s character is hard-earned in that, though we have circumstantial grounds upon which to pity the figure, atop the fact that–by the film’s decree–Jean-Baptiste is devoid of an essence in that he has no scent of his own (thus is a hollow personage), the crux of the character makes it all the more difficult for audiences to relate in that the sense of smell is often the least utilized and acute sensory organ. Granted, Tykwer attempts to make the character’s plight more applicable by way of presenting his viewer with a barrage of objects which are known for their fragrances, including fruit, flowers, leather, fish, etc., nonetheless–without the aide of olfactory recall–the film’s concept is diluted as the plot becomes crippled on logistic principle.
Turning the thumbscrews in lieu of the fact that there is no central victim for the audience to subsequently associate, Jean-Baptiste is shown to possess a homicidal instinct by way of genetic inheritance in that his mother (Birgit Minichmayr) had disposed of four previous children by abandoning them in the refuse at the local fish market. This, atop the fact that one other literary character shares the distinctive characteristic of not having a smell: The Devil.
Yet, amid all of the restrictive, often self-inflicted, limitations and cinematic and narrative misnomers–much like an alluring fragrance–one is nevertheless drawn into the feature. Perhaps it is John Hurt’s reassuring voiceover narration. Maybe its Tykwer’s refreshing reliance upon image before sound in a medium where such should be the standard, not the exception. Or it is possibly due to Frank Griebe’s exquisite cinematography. More likely, however, the film’s magnetism is a combination of all of these things, atop Süskind’s intriguing story, which supercedes the truly carnal, empty nature of what is occurring onscreen as we ironically come to admire Jean-Baptiste’s drive which, in its dogged determination, is not unlike Geoffrey Rush’s innate demand to create as the Marquis de Sade in Philip Kaufman’s Quills.
We sit mesmerized as the Constable is unable to discover an m.o. for the killer because, much like real-life murder sprees, the police readily assume that a personal justification, as opposed to a philosophic or aesthetic one, lies at the crime’s center. Yet, this is perhaps Süskind and Tykwer’s genius for the audience gains the impression that Jean-Baptiste is not aware of his crimes. Instead, his lust to fashion the perfect scent blinds him from his actions. However, once the film ends and we are permitted to step away from the je ne sais quoi of the murderer, we come to realize that it is for just his reason–the obsessive lengths which the killer will go to reach his goal–that makes the tale so chilling.
But then arrives our rub. With John Hawkian iconoclastic delight and blackly humorous seductiveness, Tykwer’s antihero is subtly cast as a savior despite his character traits resembling those of the Dark Prince. Almost verbatim with the chronology of Jesus, Jean-Baptiste saves humanity while providing it and reminding it of its purpose. Of course, any reader familiar with Patrick Süskind’s work will not find this surprising anymore than the notion that we are enchantingly lead by a plot which, in its essence, houses no innate intrigue. Yet this it the magic which is Süskind and only Süskind.
And this is the undeniable prowess of Perfume: The Story of a Murderer. It is a tale we should abhor, but are captivated by. It is a story which few can relate, but we nevertheless diligently attempt to identify. It contains one of the most contemptible characters in all of cinema, but we forgive his digressions as we come to pity and support him. With this, Tom Tykwer does the impossible twice over as he takes an impossible text which paradoxically conveys smell through words and tells it through images. In the end, only when the mystical aura that is Perfume finally dissipates are we able to understand why so few words are spoken: By depriving us of one sense, our others are subsequently heightened and honed.
-Egregious Gurnow
- Interview with J.R. Bookwalter - January 22, 2015
- Interview with Andrew J. Rausch - January 22, 2015
- Interview with Rick Popko and Dan West - January 22, 2015
- Interview with Director Stevan Mena (Malevolence) - January 22, 2015
- Interview with Screenwriter Jeffery Reddick (Day of the Dead 2007) - January 22, 2015
- Teleconference interview with Mick Garris (Masters of Horror) - January 22, 2015
- A Day at the Morgue with Corri English (Unrest) - January 22, 2015
- Interview with Writer/Director Nacho Cerda (The Abandoned, Aftermath) - January 22, 2015
- Interview with Actress Thora Birch (Dark Corners, The Hole, American Beauty) - January 22, 2015
- Interview with Actor Jason Behr, Plus Skinwalkers Press Coverage - January 22, 2015
