Paul Cole wakes up in peculiar surroundings – it appears to be a small Midwestern town, and it seems to be somewhere in Ohio, according to the people he encounters. He doesn’t know how or why he got there, and he is desperate to get back to New York City – no one in this quaint hamlet seems to recognise him, despite him having a starring role in the most beloved daytime soap opera, and even fewer seem willing to go out of their way to help him, which only plunges him further into a state of confusion as he gradually begins to piece his memories together. This is the primary plot of The Actor, in which Duke Johnson adapts the novel Memory, one of the many fascinating works written by prolific author Donald E. Westlake, who crafted quite an engaging narrative about the nature of memory and our relationship with our surroundings, which the director brings to life on screen with this captivating blend of psychological thriller, melodrama and satirical dark comedy, all of which form the foundation for one of the year’s most intriguing works. Not a film that necessarily intends to make much sense, but still offers us something truly valuable, The Actor is a peculiar provocation of both form and content that may not always hit the intended targets, and certainly does not play as smoothly as we would expect (likely a result of it being the director’s first entirely live-action endeavour after years of working in animation), but where the sheer ambition, combined with some tremendously intriguing stylistic choices, make a remarkable difference in the development of the core themes as Johnson openly explores the many complex ideas embedded in Westlake’s novel, which is as disquieting as it is darkly comedic. It all adds up to quite a unique film, helmed by someone whose passion for the material nullifies all of the shortcomings, making The Actor one of the year’s more engaging and unsettling films, for better or worse.

Every film is essentially formed through deciding where more emphasis is placed on a metaphorical scale – on one side is the narrative, on the other is the execution, and the most successful or those which either find an equal blend between the two, or those which take the risk of heavily emphasizing one over the other creatively. The Actor is the rare film that is almost entirely driven by its atmosphere more than anything else – it has a solid plot, but other than serving as the set-up for each scene (so that we understand its setting and the underlying implications that we eventually encounter), it’s not all that useful. Instead, the tone is what draws us in – The Actor is enshrouded in a dreamlike quality, which is only assisted by the intentionally hazy, off-kilter imagery in which everything seems to be filtered through both a metaphorical and literal fog that lingers throughout the film. Ultimately, it all draws our attention to the core premise of both the novel and this adaptation – a film does not need to contort itself to make sense when the entire purpose is to plunge the viewer into a state of confusion, provoking thought through removing logic and instead forcing us to flail in bewilderment as we attempt to piece together the various clues that determine whether what we are seeing is fact or fiction, the boundaries of which are blurred throughout this film, a stylistic and conceptual choice that bears remarkable results in terms of establishing a very clear atmosphere. Ultimately, The Actor is a film that acknowledges that a film does not need to make sense to be effective – why strive to give answers when what is truly fascinating are the questions that the viewer asks throughout? It’s an enigmatic film, and has an approach that is certainly not going to be to the taste of everyone, but which nonetheless still provides us with more than enough insights into the underlying themes for this entire project to be quite worthwhile, even at its most offbeat and disconcerting, which appear to be entirely intentional.

The qualities that draw us into The Actor are not only related to the very enigmatic tonal decisions, but also the approach – Johnson may not be as skilled of a storyteller as some of his contemporaries, and the screenplay he wrote with Stephen Cooney is not entirely convincing a far as its narrative structure is concerned, but where the writing falters, the filmmaking thrives. In a cinematic landscape where realism and authenticity is seen as the most valuable commodity, this film decides to be intentionally artificial, with the entire production being filmed on sets, and where the transition between scenes are intentionally quite tacky. The film aims to evoke those low-budget melodramas of the 1950s, where the viewer is coerced into thinking that what they are seeing is representative of the outside world, and while this could initially just be viewed as a stylistic decision made to help the film stand apart, there is conceptual relevance that we find bolsters the entire film, making it an unexpectedly complex examination of the themes at its core. This does prove to be quite an acquired taste, since not everyone will find the intentionally over-the-top artifice particularly endearing, and some may not even connect the choice to make the film in such a way with its narrative, especially since the film doesn’t feel compelled to explain this choice. Ultimately, The Actor is a film about the blurring of fiction and reality, implying that we are all nothing but actors, performing in our bespoke plays that often crossover with those around us, but are all worth watching. Johnson’s prowess as a visual stylist is fully evident throughout, and we find that some of its most interesting moments are those in which he embraces the underlying absurdity and leaps into the unknown, not being afraid to challenge the artistic status quo, since he is armed with enough artistic originality to justify his often peculiar and unconventional decisions made throughout this film.

Based on the title and the themes that govern the narrative, it’s quite obvious that The Actor was going to be a work that paid careful attention to the cast, considering this is a film that proposes that we are all actors playing parts in the theatrical revue known as life. The lead of the film needed to be portrayed by someone with a very particular set of skills – it couldn’t be a major star, since their presence would be distracting and likely could not be all that convincing in the part of someone whose anonymity is a primary theme of the film, but also required someone who was seasoned enough to draw the viewer in, particularly when it came to examining the innermost details of this character. Ultimately, the role went to André Holland, who was a tremendous choice – an actor who has been working steadily for well over a decade, but who has chosen smaller and more original projects rather than those that would skyrocket him to the upper-echelons of the industry, but at the expense of his fervent originality. He’s as good as we would expect, rarely overplaying a scene but still creating a character that is honest, complex and emotionally vulnerable, being the perfect combination of elegant and insecure, a quality that was not at all negotiable when it came to creating this role. The rest of the cast is populated by several familiar faces such as Tracey Ullmann, Toby Jones, Joe Cole and Fabien Frankel – and except Holland and co-lead Gemma Chan (who acts as the femme fatale) of the piece, they are all collectively credited as “The Troupe”, playing multiple roles, evoking the spirit of a classic play, where the ensemble occupy many different parts, and where the connections between their various characters factor quite heavily into the narrative. It’s a fascinating approach that only strengthens the film and makes its underlying themes all the more prominent.

The Actor is not a film that intends to be particularly easy, and it can often be impenetrable to the point of becoming frustrating and too challenging to embrace fully. However, this is all by design, with the ideas embedded right at the heart of the film being far more intriguing than anything else that we would imagine coming from this material. Johnson does deserve credit for taking what is essentially a slightly elevated work of pulp fiction from an author who bridged the gap between generations of genre-based writers, and turned it into an enigmatic, daring existential odyssey that is simultaneously daring and provocative, while also being a tribute to the past in both the themes and the execution, both of which evoke a bygone era with a lot of attention to detail. Not a film that will necessarily be considered a universally beloved work, but rather a peculiar little curio with bold ideas and an even more unconventional execution. Johnson seems poised to become one of our next truly great filmmakers, with his ability to evoke both the experimental and orthodox being an incredible skill, and something that stands him in good stead for his continued growth as a visual storyteller. It’s far from perfect, but The Actor is a truly tremendous work, and has enough complexities and intriguing details to keep us fully invested and wholeheartedly engaged, a tremendous merit for a film that proves to be far more engaging than we would expect based on a cursory glance, and which proves that some of the most original works are those which require more patience than usual.