2.5/5 stars
Greta may benefit from elegant cinematography and a typically intense performance by Isabelle Huppert, but that can’t hide the fact that it’s a basic B-movie dressed up to look like something more meaningful.
The story begins as a credible psychodrama, but gradually gets so absorbed in its own derangement that it ends up as a campy horror fantasy. That could be fun, but Irish director Neil Jordan always goes for the obvious. The scary scenes are therefore duller than they should be, and the ending is a bore. There are also many bewildering plot holes that even genre addicts will find annoying.
The story is set in a by-the-numbers version of New York that completely misses the feel of the city – mainly because most of it was filmed in Ireland. Frances (Chloe Grace Moretz) is a young Bostonian who is relatively new to the city, where she’s staying downtown in her best friend’s luxurious Tribeca loft.
Although Frances has been told to be careful in New York, she personally returns a handbag she finds on the subway to the home of its owner, the lonely Greta (Huppert). Greta’s lovelorn persona, and her mastery of Liszt’s passionate solo piano work Liebestraum No. 3, intrigue Frances, who has recently lost her mother, and the two strike up a close friendship.
But a chance discovery in Greta’s house leads Frances to believe there is something dangerously wrong with Greta. Disturbing events escalate after that.
Huppert’s hyperactive performance is the best thing about Greta, and there is some fun in watching her move from a mentally disturbed character into a full-blown Cruella De Vil. Realising that there is no real motivation for her character’s evil nature, Huppert simply goes at it hell-for-leather, acting as mad as she can and trying to out-nasty her character in The Piano Teacher.
Lack of originality is a bigger problem. The nuttiness reminds of Dressed to Kill, without Brian De Palma’s customary flair; the story is similar to Adrian Lyne’s Fatal Attraction and the direction draws on all number of previous horrors to play out exactly as you think it will. There are no postmodern touches or ironic humour, and that makes Greta seem old-fashioned.
Characters do the usual dumb things like rush into basements to escape their captors, and the police aren’t called when it’s obvious that they should be – especially as they are around in the earlier, more grounded parts of the film.
Still, the lush look is easy on the eye and it’s interesting to see Stephen Rea, the star of Jordan’s vastly superior 1992 hit The Crying Game, turn up as a private eye.
Want more articles like this? Follow SCMP Film on Facebook
