Critically acclaimed Danish director Susanne Bier’s first American film “Things We Lost in the Fire” is an emotionally wrenching drama about suffering, addiction and the human response to loss and tragedy. The film is about finding the courage to move on with your life, even if that doesn’t necessarily mean moving forward. A movie with such lofty emotional goals would do well to downplay the Hollywood star power, but Halle Berry (“Perfect Stranger”) and Benicio Del Toro (“Sin City”) consistently work the film’s finest moments to reaffirm their own talents as actors.
At the beginning of the film, Audrey Burke (Berry) has lost her husband and is just beginning to deal with the reality of being a widow. To help her deal with the death, she invites her husband’s best friend, heroin addict Jerry (Del Toro), to live with her and her two children, pulling him out of a rehab clinic to her picture perfect home in the suburbs. Audrey’s husband Brian (awkwardly played by David Duchovny, “Californication”) had provided well for his family before his tragic murder, and most of the film is set in their homestead, located in the impossible beauty of a Seattle area neighborhood. This setting is directly in contrast to the film’s venture down to skid row, a place inhabited by a slew of drug addict zombies.
These two locations serve as static representations of the worlds of wealth and poverty, where the story rescues a man from this underworld and whisks him away to the serenity of lush gardens and indoor pools. Audrey brings Jerry from the slum to the beauty of this environment to be saved, only to have him find himself in direct contrast to his surroundings. He is left to his own recovery in a place where it is hard for him to imagine being able to find anything to relate to. There is no answer for this contradiction, but there is a minor degree of relief when Jerry acknowledges this disparity and asks Audrey: “So, why am I here?” Her reply is simple and obvious, “I don’t know.” She then considers the death of her husband and her previous hatred of Jerry and tells him, “It should’ve been you.” In her own confusion of emotions, she wickedly strikes at all his insecurities, further leaving his recovery in jeopardy.
One can’t help feeling that Halle Berry was typecast into the role of grieving widow, a character she played unforgettably in “Monster’s Ball.” She is a remarkably talented actress, but her role here seems a bit exhausted, and her character’s identity outside her domestic existence is left noticeably undefined. This background may not be necessary to relate to the pain of her loss, but it would help the audience understand why she makes some questionable decisions during her period of grief. When sexual tension arises between her and Jerry, Audrey becomes surprisingly aloof, as if afraid to acknowledge that her widowhood is making her lonely at night.
Del Toro is fantastic for his realistic portrayal of the heroin addict Jerry. His chain smoking grit is fully developed, as he is a glazed-over fragment of his former self. When the story calls for him to show the bright moments of his recovery, he does so as if his emerging optimism is only a thin mask hiding his pain. Jerry is always aware of his sickness and proceeds through the film with this caution. Even his playfulness with the children is subtle and guarded. The suburbanites also seem to possess an overly romanticized view of Jerry’s lowdown character as a pillar of strength. When his house of cards topples, it is fitting that there are parallels of uncertainties and loneliness between these characters.
“Things We Lost in the Fire” suffers in its unrealistic leaps in plot, such as Audrey’s initial acceptance of Jerry after her bitter hatred of him, but the goal of the film is to reach beyond the story and into the nature of suffering. While the story ostensibly focuses on the loss of the paternal figure, Jerry’s struggle gets more screen time and rightly steals the show. By the end of “Things We Lost in the Fire,” the audience feels the weight of a journey into these characters’ psyche and leaves with a profound understanding of the nature of human pain.