..Gary Dretzka
..Noah Forrest
..Leonard Klady
..R.J. Matson
..David Poland
..Douglas Pratt
..Ray Pride
..Michael Wilmington

Far From Heaven
Directed by: Todd Haynes

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It turns out to be a cheap shot to dismiss writer-director Todd Haynes’ Far from Heaven as a gimmick movie. Though swathed by intention in the Technicolor glow of bygone melodramas (specifically those made by Douglas Sirk at Universal in the 1950s), the film has a lot more on its mind than technical homage. The choice to emulate the style of a certain type of film from the era in which the story is set is simply the jumping off point for a thoughtful, quietly emotional tale with deep and disturbing resonances. Exquisitely made with nuanced performances Far from Heaven is the filmmaker’s breakthrough movie and while its initial appeal is to a discerning audience, positive word-of-mouth should allow it to reach beyond the high-brow movie ghetto.

Haynes exploits the notion of the era as a time of comfort and security. The Whitakers - Cathy (Julianne Moore) and Frank (Dennis Quaid) _ could well be the Anderson clan of television’s “Father Knows Best.” On the surface they are the idealized family with two young children and a model home and neighborhood. He’s a senior executive at a major company and she’s a homemaker with a lively social circle.

Of course, nothing is ever that good. The script begins to explore all the areas that were conveniently left out of the television series _ race, sexuality and personal demons. The Whitakers have a “colored” housekeeper and somewhere beyond the suburban bliss there’s a black community with a parallel life that barely abuts their manicured lawn. There’s also a downtown of bars and strip joints situated between the office and home that would never be seen in a vintage sitcom.

Initially the film is guilty of wowing us with its painstaking replication of the look. Cameraman Ed Lachman and designer Mark Friedberg - with no small assist from costumer Sandy Powell - capture the palate and tidiness of the make believe world to a degree that’s frightening particularly considering that most involved know it only from reruns on Nickelodeon. Eventually one simply becomes inured by it and then, thankfully, the substance of the piece kicks in.

The Whitakers have a loveless marriage. He’s mediocre at his job and she dives into social causes to stave off the emptiness in her life. But, like her friends, Cathy is half hearted in her community efforts. The plight of the Negro and disenfranchised is separated by more than simple geography.

The film is essentially about stripping away the walls. The couple find it difficult to confront the obvious. Frank cannot grasp that he’s not up to the job, personally or professionally. Alcohol is a way of coping and when he seeks solace in the bottle at an all-male bar, he’s perplexed by his attraction to other men. Cathy meanwhile develops a warm relationship with Raymond Deagan (Dennis Haysbert), the black man who tends their yard. He’s centered and warm, two qualities absent from her marriage.

The truth has enduring consequences though its ferocity is all the more extreme in this repressive era. What Haynes manages to do is dramatically heighten the impact by turning back the clock without diminishing the contemporary relevance of his script. It’s a deft sleight-of-hand that places him a rarified group of filmmakers.

A trio of extraordinary performances exemplifies these lives of quiet desperation. Quaid is the sort of actor who excels at characters whose surface belies what makes them tick. He neither betrays his character nor telegraphs his feelings. The power of his performance comes from experiencing his change as it happens. Haysbert imbues Deagan with a dignity that eschews the mawkish. It’s the kind of role, when played well as it is here, can changes a career. While he’s not oblivious to the mutual attraction with Cathy, he knows certain lines cannot be crossed without dire consequences.

However the soul of this piece is Moore’s Cathy, a character simultaneously cognizant and blind to the world around her. She never quite gets it. When she comes close, it’s as if a protective shield comes up to mask what’s too harsh or damaging to her very existence. Her work is truly sublime.

Rife with irony, Far from Heaven is, more importantly, a touching piece. It’s a miracle in this age of cookie-cutter entertainment that Haynes was allowed to cut his own path and from conception to execution could not be dissuaded from an unflinching, compelling course.