The Return of the Voiceover: Egoyan’s Where the Truth Lies

Canadian director Atom Egoyan’s latest film, Where the Truth Lies, is typical Egoyan in its use of a complicated narrative structure. The film flits between the present setting in 1972 and flashbacks to the 1950s past. Neither, of course, run in chronological order. Then we have two competing voiceover narratives: that of Karen (Alison Lohman), a young and ambitious journalist sitting down to her typewriter with an admitted “desperate need to prove herself,” and that of Lanny (Kevin Bacon), one half of the famous showbiz duo Lanny Morris and Vince Collins (Colin Firth), who has set out to record the “truth” as he nears the end of his career. Surprisingly, these fragments actually fit together quite seamlessly.

The film revolves around various perspectives of the truth, revealing, of course, the subjective nature of reality and the near impossibility of discovering the “real truth.” What happened to the girl whose body turned up in, depending on who you ask, either a bathtub or a crate of lobsters in Vince and Lanny’s hotel room? Why did Vince and Lanny split up immediately afterwards? Karen thinks she has the mystery figured out in the end, but we’ll never know for sure.

Rather David Lynchian, the film plays with various conventions of film noir. There are the characteristic voiceovers, the confessions, the characters of questionable morality, the high contrast cinematography in the 70s plotline, and lots of close ups framing the subject’s face that emphasizes their subjective point of view.

The plot is often exposed through clumsily-delivered dramatic monologues as Karen thinks aloud, either talking to her best friend Bonnie or accusing Lanny or Vince. It’s easy to write off such problems with the film (including the annoyingly melodramatic voiceovers) as genre satire. In the end, however, its comments on truth and subjectivity come off as rather obvious—once you do the work of unravelling the complicated narrative framework, the truth doesn’t lie all that deep. That’s not to say that the film isn’t worth watching for its entertainment value and eye-pleasing sets alone.

Arguably both femme fatale and feminist, the morally ambiguous Karen attempts to make the best of her power within a limited patriarchal framework: she stands up to her male editor, asserting that she has her own journalistic methods, and fights fire with fire when dealing with Lanny and Vince. Karen takes on the identity of her friend Bonnie while trying to get information out of Lanny (and discover the “real” him). Her bad, overdramatic acting while playing the part of Bonnie is fitting to the overly-ambitious, eager journalist. Does she really feel for Lanny, as “Bonnie” seemingly does? Karen also has a book deal to write about the life of Vince Collins and develops an increasingly personal relationship with him as their interviews progress. She’s not afraid to put herself into her work, as Vince comments after reading her articles: “It’s funny how you’re really in a lot of them.” The question becomes, as Karen herself points out, how far she’s willing to go.

Colin Firth plays a slightly darker (and sleazier) character than usual, unlike his usual bashfully charming romantic roles (Bridget Jones, Love Actually). It’s fun to watch him lose his characteristic British cool while hyped up on bennies on stage. Alison Lohman is competent as Karen, but I fear she may have been cast more for her (admittedly gorgeous) looks than her questionable acting ability. Kevin Bacon holds it together as funny-guy Lanny Morris with his inappropriate quips and lends a certain dynamic energy to the film.

Interestingly, same-sex relations become a potential career-wrecker and source for blackmail in both the past and present plotlines. Vince sets Karen up for a romp with a beautiful young singer who plays Alice in a surreal, sexy, drug-induced segment. The next morning he tells her she’s “just in a dither because you’ve discovered you can swing both ways.” Lanny later claims that this same threat drove Vince to murder at a time when “the slightest hint that he could swing both ways would destroy his show business career in an instant.”

The eerie visual of the dead girl (who caused all this fuss) reoccurs throughout the film. Shot from above, this image rather heavy-handedly invites the viewer to question what truth lies beneath. This girl, Maureen, and Karen are linked throughout the film: visually, both because they look somewhat alike and due to an eerie film blend, and because they’re both young journalists who become sexually involved with Lanny and Vince. Will the young blond succeed in destroying the relationship between Lanny and Vince a second time around?

Sex of course plays an important role in the film, not only because it caused the now infamous MPAA rating scandal. But viewers looking for the hot threesome that made so much press will likely be disappointed, as it is brief and really not all that sexy.

I was glad that the big revelation—that Karen was the same young polio survivor who met Lanny and Vince during the telethon—was understated by Lanny’s non-reaction, because this plot point was a bit too much for me. Luckily, a plot arc focusing on Karen’s relationship with her father was cut from the film (it shows up on the deleted scenes on the DVD), because you can only tolerate Karen’s melodramatic voiceover for so long.