It's an astonishingly minor film, content to withhold even the satisfaction of generic closure; the randomness of the title, with its implication of turbulence and drama, is the very thing that's missing from the film, which is carefully composed, meticulously played by two very restrained actors, accompanied by discreetly elegant jazz. The main idea seems to be about doubling and echoing - their twin interest in what happened and the pain of the loss and the absence pulls them together such that they're not sure what's a truly experienced emotion and what merely arises as a matter of structure and proximity at a time of crisis; Ford's job as an internal affairs officer, both pursuing and goading a dirty cop, ought to be further elaboration on this, as should be the theme of projection and image-making (as in her political campaign). But it never really gels - the melodramatic structure doesn't facilitate things when it's as stifling and solemn as it is here - what should have been a quivering pain becomes merely turgid.
Review of Random Hearts
