To what extent do we protect those we love? Is it possible to support someone through particularly tricky circumstances while still being able to maintain not only a very particular public image, but also your inner peace? This is a question that we often find being asked in instances where someone discovers a family member or close friend has committed a crime or become embroiled in something that could be a threat to their safety or freedom, and can often stir quite a bit of conflict as we are forced to assess whether to protect them and possibly be viewed as an accomplice in their wrongdoing, or make them pay the consequences for the sake of everyone involved. This is the starting point for Separate Lies, the directorial debut of Julian Fellowes, who is best known for being the scribe behind Robert Altman’s Gosford Park, and a few television series in recent years that explore social strata at different points in history. In this particular film, Fellowes is adapting the novel A Way Through the Wood by Nigel Balchin, which follows the trials and tribulations of a mild-mannered London solicitor who is content with his pleasantly mundane life, but finds himself thrown into a state of crisis when his wife inadvertently becomes the perpetrator of a brutal hit-and-run accident, which he discovers occurred as a result of an affair she was having with a neighbour, the haste in which they rushed to return home leading to a death that shakes the entire community and plunges them into the search for justice. A fascinating social drama in which Fellowes examines several existential concepts in relation to a scathing indictment on society (albeit a limited one, considering Fellowes is not someone we usually expect to be a keen observer of the plight of the working man) and how we tend to conceal information for the sake of saving face and protecting our reptations, Separate Lies is quite ambitious, even if there are a few visible seams that prevent it from truly achieving greatness.

Separate Lies is a film that is most appropriately described as a blend of a marital melodrama and a tense psychological thriller, starting as a depiction of a seemingly happy couple working through their individual crises of identity after realising that they have immersed themselves so deeply in a state of domestic bliss, they are adamant in finding more exciting endeavours to counteract their growing boredom. The “trouble in paradise” motif may seem overdone, especially since stories about relationship problems are a dime a dozen, but when done well, they can be absolutely magnificent, and Fellowes has some terrific ideas in terms of how he sets out to explore these themes, which is done with such extraordinary vivacity and commitment to its premise. The film has echoes of the classical domestic melodramas that we found produced frequently in the United Kingdom in the 1950s, these small-scale, painfully human dramas about ordinary subjects that are rendered as slightly more dramatic than they are in reality, but reflect some very real ideas that are rooted in recognizable issues, which are seamlessly brought to life through a story that centres around the challenges that come with being in a long-term relationship and the ease of deviation that can occur when the spark is gradually extinguished. Fellowes has made a career from crafting works that seem to be quite traditional at a cursory glance, but gradually reveal themselves to be far more complex and unconventional than we would initially expect, which leads to some very disquieting depictions of seemingly ordinary concepts. It’s bold and ambitious storytelling from a filmmaker that has done quite a bit to establish himself as a unique voice, and while it may struggle to see all of its ideas through to completion, the candour with which Fellowes sets out to explore these subjects and their underlying implications in terms of addressing what they represent beyond the simple confines of this narrative, an audacious experiment that feels both rich and provocative.

The heart of Separate Lies sits within the presence of the three actors who play the central roles, and help Fellowes bring these fascinating characters to life. Tom Wilkinson was one of the greatest actors of his generation, and someone who rarely delivered anything less than stellar performances. He had a magical quality in being able to elevate even the most paltry of material, and while this film is still strong on its own terms, there’s very little doubt that what makes it effective is his performance, which anchors the story and lends it both a sense of gravitas and curiosity, the two combining to form one of his most surprisingly deep, complex performances, and one that plays off his ability to play these patrician, orderly older men who are secretly very vulnerable and conflicted, almost to the point of constantly being on the edge of complete psychological collapse. Emily Watson also delivers a wonderful performance as the frustrated housewife who is seemingly content with her pleasant life, but is still growing uneasy and worried that the best years of her life are fleeting; this psychological fidgeting eventually manifests in the physical act, which leads her down a dark path of self-destruction and erratic behaviour, which becomes the central conflict of the entire film. The main cast is rounded by Rupert Everett, who has rarely been more of a scoundrel than he is here, playing this old-money hedonist who foolishly believes that everything is his dominion, and those who exist within it are merely his pawns, something that is not disproven by the sway he has over other characters. Everett is so effortlessly charismatic, but he also has a set of dastardly qualities that make his more villainous characters feel so much more complex than we would expect. The three main actors work together splendidly, bringing out the very best in one another and strengthening the entire film by extension.

Many complex ideas persist throughout Separate Lies, a film that works best as a chamber drama about a dysfunctional marriage teetering dangerously close to complete collapse, exposing the brutal reality that lingers beneath the surface in the process. The tone that this film takes is quite remarkable – it’s a very simple approach that is bolstered by Fellowes’ unique command of the atmosphere of this film. At a cursory glance, it seems very rudimentary, evoking a bygone era in domestic drama, but as it goes on and we see the layers gradually unravelling, we begin to notice some very bold stylistic and narrative choices that strengthen the film and make it so much more compelling. Had the material not been so strong, the unfurnished simplicity of Separate Lies would not have been even nearly as captivating or effective, since it required an assured hand to guide the story and highlight the quieter and more subtle areas that actually conceal something much more profound, and which would have been overlooked had the film been directed by someone who didn’t possess this kind of meticulous attention to detail. Traditional means of telling these stories may seem old-fashioned, but this is one of the many instances where it actually feels like it is saying something about these ideas rather than just existing as a means to tell a superficial story without diving deeper into the character dynamics and the implications that emerge from crafting such a sinister little sociocultural fable, which is the perfect description of what Fellowes set out to achieve here, using the story of a man trying to do what he thinks is right, but finding himself thrust into a state of existential despair through trying to make sense of a hostile world that he thought he understood, only to realize how deeply misguided his initial beliefs were, and how certain events can change the way he perceives society, gradually corrupting his view and leading him down the exact path he sought to avoid.

A well-crafted and complex character study in which the director makes exceptional use of the skills he amassed over the decades in both film and stage, Separate Lies is a fascinating curio of a film that has not left too much of an impression, but feels primed for a rediscovery, especially as we see ourselves venturing back to a point where simple, well-told stories are highly-favoured over those which lose themselves in the pursuit of overly ambitious goals, which can cause some stories to fall apart at the seams. There’s something so captivating about a story that is simply told well, moving from one point to another with elegance, curiosity and a vested interest in its characters, which it commits to developing exceptionally well, finding the smallest and most peculiar details and following those threads as they unravel and present us with these raw, deeply complex characters that are brilliantly brought to life by a trio of excellent actors, and who become the main players in a deeply unnerving but profoundly brilliant chamber drama that tackles themes such as domestic ennui, existential despair and trust, all of which form the foundation for this brilliant blend of melodrama and psychological thriller, two very disparate genres that somehow work in tandem to create this masterful, incredibly compelling drama that deserves a reassessment, both for its unique approach to deeply unsettling themes, and its wholehearted commitment to creating something that feels both innovative and old-fashioned, a blend that defines this wonderful film.