>>213767010
At the center of the film is the intoxicating beauty of Nastassja Kinski, and Schrader's obsessive infatuation with her permeates nearly every aspect of it. From the first frame she is on screen the camera lingers on her reverently: a close-up of her hypnotic hazel-green eyes pulls back to reveal full pouting lips, a flawless complexion, and short, lustrous walnut hair before watching her glide gracefully across an airport terminal. Her performance as Irena is electrifying, oozing with effortless sensuality as she moves through the phases of naive innocence, coquettish flirt and finally full on seductress each accompanied by an increasing level of cat-like body language. She plays the emotional side of the character equally well, we can see the subconscious wall of Irena's denial slowly chip away as her true nature becomes more and more undeniable. Her torment is palpable as her normal life falls to pieces and she is pulled away from the man she loves by the cruel wheels of cosmic indifference, doomed to repeat the cycle of her ancestral curse passed down from time immemorial despite her personal innocence. The pathos of her misfortune is enhanced because the viewer wants to see her loved, we want to reach through the screen and hand her the world on a silver platter as she deserves. Alas it can never be, judgement made can never bend.
John Heard's character Oliver serves as a stand in for Schrader and to an extent the viewer; we transpose ourselves onto the him because like them we find ourselves drawn into the vortex of Kinski's siren song. Despite a muted, borderline Bressonian performance and a corny line or two, Heard effectively conveys the impression of a man forsaking everything; his previous relationships, safety, and reason itself in pursuit of his muse. It is no coincidence that he is reciting Dante in the scene before he meets Kinski, and a bust of Beatrice is on a mantle in her bedroom.
