This "thinker" movie is a prime case study for Drama 301. In this film, Paul Giamatti plays himself as an introvert stuck in a mud hole of neurosis. His wife tolerates his seemingly random behavior, but, hey! aren't actors supposed to be endowed with with psycho pedigrees?
Does Giamatti's role in an upcoming Chekov play push him off a cliff? Is he so ignorant of science (and a dupe for huckster hype) that he can't see the truth? Chekov looks for truth, and Giamatti flushes it down the septic tank.
David Strathairn puts a clown face on his carnivalesque role. He's the salesman/businessman/scientist who swaps souls for paying customers. "Pick a new soul from this catalog", Strathairn offers. Giamatti falls for the con, but the film goer doesn't get clarity in the end. In fact, the film ends about two days before the story comes back around.
After you come out of a nice restaurant and find eight bucks, go see this movie because of the great Russian winter scenery. That's the part I enjoyed. Scenery-8.5, Paul Giamatti's craftsmanship-8.5, story 4.0.
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