DRAMA

‘In Secret’: Few secrets here | 2½ stars

Updated: 2014-02-20T01:26:42Z

By ROGER MOORE

McClatchy-Tribune

Think of “Therese Raquin,” the Emile Zola novel that is the inspiration for “In Secret,” as the original film noir. It has an illicit love affair, a murder and the guilt and fear of discovery that come with it.

Filmmaker Charlie Stratton, working from Neal Bell’s stage adaptation of the book, delivers a moody, melodramatic and somewhat overwrought version of the tale, sort of a 19th-century Paris “Postman Always Rings Twice.” It benefits from brooding performances by the leads and another fierce turn by Jessica Lange in an unpleasant supporting role.

Elizabeth Olsen is Therese Raquin, a tragically illegitimate child whose father leaves her with distant relatives after her mother dies.

“Illegitimates have been dealt an unlucky hand,” Madame Raquin (Lange) purrs. She then sets out to create a self-fulfilling prophecy. Therese is forlorn and unloved in the present, and Madame has her future planned in ways that won’t change that. She will marry Madame’s pampered son, Camille (Tom Felton), a sickly lad who has grown up with Therese, more of a coughing brother than a potential lover.

They move from the country to Paris, and that’s where Camille re-connects with childhood pal Laurent (Oscar Isaac of “Inside Llewyn Davis”), a smoldering rake of an artist who awakens the woman in Therese.

“Save me,” she pleads to him. And he does. Often.

As the clueless Camille frets that “I don’t know how to make Therese happy” to his “friend,” Laurent is making her happy every day over lunch.

“In Secret” is a genuine “bodice ripper” of a thriller, with the requisite heavy breathing that comes after said bodice is ripped. The sex isn’t explicit, but Olsen and Isaac suggest the heat that gives this doomed affair its momentum. Olsen’s version of Therese is a lovelorn Madame Bovary who decides to take things further than Flaubert’s Emma Bovary ever would.

Unfortunately, there’s no way to back-date this original noir to keep us from seeing where it’s going long before it gets there. We’ve seen too many variations of this story. The overwrought, 19th-century melodramatic conventions of the plot creak like the springs and joints of a worn-out stagecoach.

(At the Glenwood at Red Bridge and Studio 30.)

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