Director George Miller’s unusual new fantasy is both intimate and opulent, delicate and explosive, genteel and vulgar.
It seems a highly unlikely film to be made at a time when so much of the world is bitterly divided along partisan and sectarian lines … and yet, perhaps, this is precisely the right time to be reminded of the comforting and enduring power of storytelling and myth.
Miller and co-scripter Augusta Gore based this beguiling piece on the title tale in British novelist A. S. Byatt’s 1994 short story collection, “The Djinn in the Nightingale’s Eye.” Byatt — the pen name of Dame Antonia Susan Duffy — also holds the conventions of folk and fairy tales as a revealing mirror of contemporary society; there’s a strong sense in her work — and in Miller’s film — that those who ignore or dismiss myth are much the poorer for having done so.
Dr. Alithea Binnie (Tilda Swinton), a narratologist who has focused her career on how fables and myths have affected human development, is introduced as she arrives — the guest of honor — for a conference in Istanbul.
Her scholarly focus notwithstanding, she’s a stoic academic and creature of logic and reason: someone who long ago abandoned any desire to pursue romantic intangibles such as true love or unbridled passion. Swinton’s performance, in these early scenes, is brusque but not unfriendly, although close colleagues find Alithea’s demeanor a bit baffling (given her field of study).
That said, she’s also prone to occasional visions of fantastical beings from some sort of long-ago realm.
It’s no accident, as she and her entourage make their way to the packed auditorium that awaits her presentation, that they pass a reference to a local production of Scheherazade.
The following day, seeking a bauble to commemorate this visit, she impulsively selects a delicate blue bottle from within an exotic gift shop. Back in her hotel room, she cleans it in the sink, snatching an electric toothbrush to scrub away the inset swirls.
And poof! The bottle top shoots out, and the room fills with a purplish-red mist laced with sparkling electromagnetic elements. They coalesce — at first massively, but ultimately at a somewhat more conventional size and shape — into a regal Djinn (Idris Elba) whose voice suggests thunder, even when calm and restrained.