The Two Faces of January

What type of person sees a man grunting and dragging a body at the end of a hotel hallway, and offers to help him and his wife flee the country? Someone with a motive. That’s a pinnacle scene from The Two Faces of January, a thriller film based on a 1964 same-title novel by Patricia Highsmith.

Every character has an agenda in this story, and their complex, calculating minds make them interesting and ambiguous. It’s 1962 in Athens, Greece. Rydal (Oscar Isaac) is a 20-something American tour guide, whose handsome dark features distract female tourists from the ruins of the Parthenon. For the same reason, these besotted women don’t notice when he exploits their amateur Greek to shortchange them during dates. Still, Rydal’s little more than a small-time crook—until he meets Chester MacFarland (Viggo Mortenson) and his beautiful young wife Colette (Kirsten Dunst), a well-groomed, well-mannered American couple on vacation.

Don’t be fooled by Chester’s cream linen suit, his glossy charm, the breezy demeanor. Behind that cool smile is a major-league scam artist who’s just pulled off a con big and serious enough to earn him and his wife a lush early retirement—and a lifetime exile from the United States. Chester instantly recognizes another counterfeit in Rydal and distrusts him, while Rydal finds the couple intriguing, for reasons both intrinsic and unclean. So when Chester asks for help after murdering a private detective, Rydal eagerly offers his services. And so begins the swift downfall of all three characters.

The Two Faces of January (rated PG-13 for some violence, language, and smoking) is elegant and mesmerizing, if a little unhurried in pace and unsettling in mood. It feels as though the actors are playing a cat-and-mouse game: acting coy at first, playful next, and then going berserk with claws and bushy tail out. It’s a performance both subtle and superb, and you’re forgiven if you let your guard down.