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Ivan Sors (Ralph Fiennes) pursues an illicit affair with
a married woman (Deborah Kara Unger) in director
Istvan Szabo's, Sunshine.
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War, political turmoil, family deceit, personal ambition, forbidden desire and racial hatred fill director Istvan Szabo's laundry list of movie drama. Spread over 100 years and four generations of the same Hungarian family, Szabo's intentions for his epic drama Sunshine are decidedly larger-than-life. He uses the theme of the corrupting influence of power to connect his chapters of Hungarian history: two world wars, the collapse of monarchy, the Communist period and the rebel victory in the 1956 revolution. It's also a way for Szabo to make sense of the chaotic lives of the Sonnenschein family, his protagonists. But clumsy symbolism over a secret family recipe for tonic, a grandfather's pocket watch and broken dishes soon reveal just how transparent Sunshine's story turns out to be. Szabo wants to use a middle-class Jewish family's quest for identity as the core theme behind his film's colorful emotions. But his sweeping epic, co-written with playwright Israel Horovitz, never feels personal. The human emotions are overwhelmed by Sunshine's beautiful trappings and detailed period setting. Szabo's Sonnenschein tale turns out to be a cool Hungarian history lesson.
In the mid-19th century, after the tragic death of his father in a distillery accident, the Hungarian Jew Emmanuel Sonnenschein (David de Keyser) moves to Budapest and turns the family recipe for "Taste of Sunshine Tonic" into a family fortune. Later, three generations of Sonnenscheins struggle with the desire to rise in power and become part of the establishment.
Emmanuel's son Ignatz (Ralph Fiennes) changes the family name to the Hungarian name Sors in order to assimilate. He's a judge intent on a high-ranking political career. After a controversial marriage to his cousin Valerie (Jennifer Ehle), Ignatz struggles to remain loyal to the monarchy in the wake of political unrest. Later, Ignatz's son Adam (also played by Fiennes) is an Olympic fencer who converts to Catholicism in order to further his sports career. But World War II and the conquering Nazis have other plans for Adam and his family, including his son Ivan (Fiennes in his third role). After time spent in the Jewish ghetto and Nazi death camps, Ivan becomes a Communist Party official. Still, like his forefathers, Ivan remains focused on a desire to be accepted. Only Ivan's surviving grandmother, the now elderly Valerie (Rosemary Harris), offers any connection to his troubled past.
Fiennes tackles the difficult task of portraying three generations of Sonnenschein men with surprising success. It helps that he possesses a calm face, capable of subtle changes. His intense stare alone is capable of aging 30 years. But Szabo offers Fiennes little opportunity to make use of his elaborate make-up. Fiennes is distant from the history that is unfolding at his feet.
An impressive collection of historical backdrops overwhelms Sunshine's human characters. A massive arena serves as the location for the fencing competition at the 1936 Olympic games in Berlin. The Sonnenschein family mansion comes alive for a festive New Year's Eve 1900 celebration. None of the troubled women in Adam and Ivan's lives -- actresses Rachel Weisz, Molly Parker and Deborah Kara Unger -- prove capable of jumpstarting Sunshine's lumbering story. Appearing late into the film, William Hurt's performance as a Communist official is also dramatically handcuffed. Only Ehle, as the headstrong Valerie, and Ehle's real-life mother, Rosemary Harris as the older Valerie, create any emotional spark that can withstand Sunshine's operatic production.
By the Hungarian revolution of 1956, the Sonnenschein tale comes full circle. But you wouldn't know it by Szabo's cool, detached method of storytelling.
Szabo is an extraordinary technician. Every image is artful, courtesy of his frequent collaborator, cinematographer Lajos Koltai. The period settings are meticulously detailed, thanks to designer Atilla Kovacs and costume designer Gyorgyi Szakacs. The problem with Sunshine is its lack of a substantial story. Sometime, late into the third generation of Sonnenscheins, it's clear that Szabo and Horovitz have failed to make their case that this is a family worth watching. Sunshine contains every melodramatic plot device -- infidelity, political arrest and social revolution -- and still the story never comes to life. It doesn't matter if Koltai knows how to light Fiennes' face if audiences have lost interest in what he has to say.
Szabo has looked at 20th-century politics and the rise of Nazism before. Mephisto dealt with a German actor who was co-opted by the Nazis. Colonel Redl portrayed the treachery and homosexuality of an Austrian officer in 1914. Hanussen told the story of a clairvoyant whose occult power predicted Hitler's rise to power. All three films shared powerful performances by the same leading actor, Klaus Maria Brandauer. More importantly, by limiting his focus, Szabo was able to tell his stories more powerfully than any moment in Sunshine.
Szabo forfeits a need for emotional intimacy with period detail and spectacular settings. Sunshine transports us back through time gloriously. But Szabo never manages to make the trip feel worthwhile.
CityBeat grade: D.
