Stop the presses: International finance is designed to make the rich richer and the poor poorer. And that’s a bad thing. If either of these pronouncements comes as any surprise to you, then you’re the prime audience for “The Confessions,” an international thriller that has nothing new to say about either subject, but treats both of them as earth-shattering revelations.
This is one of those stiff, polyglot, all-star affairs that resembles a 1960s international co-production where stars like Adolfo Celi and Mai Britt appeared in boxes along the bottom of the poster. Here we have a story set at the G8 summit, and each character goes out of his or her way to mention the country they’re from. (“Who but an Asian could best appreciate your silence?” the Japanese representative asks at one point.) Perhaps they should have all just worn their flags, like Olympians in competition.
Toni Servillo (“The Great Beauty”) stars as Roberto Salus, a reclusive monk who has published several books decrying contemporary capitalism. He is summoned to the summit by IMF chief Daniel Roché (Daniel Auteuil), who wishes to engage in the act of contrition. When Roché commits suicide afterward, the other G8 representatives lean on Salus to reveal what Roché told him, even going so far as to threaten to arrest the cleric for the financier’s murder. (Roché asphyxiated himself with a plastic bag that contained Salus’ tape recorder.)
Salus, of course, falls back on the hoary old “sanctity of the confessional” argument as a reason for remaining silent. (And if we weren’t already familiar with how overplayed this trope is, one character helpfully cites Hitchcock’s “I Confess” as a reminder.) Salus’ neighbor in the hotel is Claire Seth (Connie Nielsen), a mega-successful, J.K. Rowling-esque children’s book author who’s at the summit to write her first thriller. She comes to Salus’ aid, sleuthing for him and hiding him when necessary.
Much of “The Confessions” is taken up by the machinations of the G8 ministers, who are generally portrayed with all the dimension and delicacy of Snidely Whiplash. (It’s saying something that Richard Sammel, who plays a vampire Nazi on FX’s “The Strain,” is dialing it down only a notch or two in his portrayal of a German banker.)
And while the film takes occasional pains to portray Salus as a flesh-and-blood human being (He smokes! He likes bird calls!), the character is essential Sanctimony itself in sandals, spouting director Robert Andò and co-writer Angelo Pasquini’s homilies about the modern world when he’s not placidly acting as an exposition dump for the other characters.
“Banks are the ultimate secret societies,” says Italian representative Pierfrancesco Favino (“Marco Polo”). “And like the Mafia, they answer to no one.”
By the final act, in which it’s implied that Salus isn’t just a moral paragon but also possibly magic, it’s difficult to care much about what’s happening. Cinematographer Maurizio Calvesi (Andò’s “Long Live Freedom”) deserves praise for finding new and different ways to shoot the hotel rooms inside which the film is trapped, but he brings the only sense of variety and vitality to the proceedings.
Even if you agree with everything “The Confessions” has to say about the problems of our era and who caused them, you’ll learn nothing new and will find little entertainment in hearing your opinions espoused.