A few weeks ago I came across the book Perfume: Story of a Murderer among my favourite fandom, Sherlock. It all makes sense now. If you know of Perfume already and of Sherlock you’ll more than likely spot the connection (and I apologise now for any subconscious references in this piece). But anyway, three sentences in and I digress. Something about it sparked interest, and I promptly bought myself a second hand copy on Amazon marketplace.
A short synopsis.
Protagonist Jean-Baptiste Grenouille is born during the mid 19th century in an unrelentingly disgusting, dirt-trodden Paris. Utterly sociopathic pretty much from birth, he has an unparalleled sense of smell and discovers the emotional control scents can have on human beings.
I won’t lie; the prospect of a good murder was my main interest. But in fact the book spends the entire time skirting around everything it sells itself to be. Perfume is a superb character study of Grenouille, with a good narrative foundation to keep you from wandering off.
Grenouille commits his first murder fairly early on in the book, where he first discovers the ultimate scent of a female. The killing is an accident, a moment of passion, and one that in the hands of anyone but Grenouille and Süskind would entail rape and extreme sexuality. But it’s completely non-graphic and almost underwhelming. Which is why it is so perfect. Grenouille hasn’t committed a murder for a sexual purpose; in fact he could be described more accurately as asexual. He is so intoxicated by her scent that takes her life mercilessly and leaves the scene of the crime with absolutely no remorse; only an intense desire to keep that smell, or at least its memory, with him until he dies. Scent is his only passion, one that gravely removes normal human traits – like guilt or love.
Some of the book classics we all know, A Clockwork Orange, Frankenstein, Lord of the Flies, deal with between humans and their relationship with ‘something else’ – God, perhaps. It’s safe to say Perfume follows this line of enquiry, to a point where our protagonist Grenouille actually sees himself as a God. Süskind has written him in such a way that we aren’t sure if Grenouille himself can really distinguish between his reality and his fantasies. One of the most intense sections of the book takes place over 7 years, inside a cave out in the wilderness of France, with only earthworms and silent vegetation for company. To you or I, this would seem utterly terrifying, but to Grenouille, to be removed from all other distractions allows himself to literally live inside a fantasy, where he spends all day sleeping and dreaming. The biblical connotations concerning this time spent in silence inside a cave, and his move back to civilisation where he is greeted as some kind of prophet are clear. Actually, I couldn’t help but find an amusing connection between this and Monty Python’s Life of Brian with the man inside the hole.
I don’t want to go too far into my thoughts on Grenouille as a character study because I won’t do it justice, and well, I can’t recommend the book enough. You’ll be equally intoxicated with it and probably develop your own obsession with scent over the course of its pages.
I battled with my own feelings of sympathy toward Grenouille (in line with many of the sub characters in the book), with Süskind’s descriptions of claustrophobic sense of smell. You wouldn’t be able to get away from it, you’d be so conscious that maybe spending seven years inside a cave masturbating over the memories of everything you are obsessed with wouldn’t be such a terrible prospect after all.
Now the adaptation. Directed by Tom Tykwer (Run Lola Run) and starring Ben Whishaw (yes, that guy, what’s his name, Pingu? Off Nathan Barley!) as Grenouille. Minutes into the film and I already concluded that I believe Whishaw, while giving a superb performance, is far too pretty to be Grenouille and isn’t as disease-ridden-looking (if that’s a suitable description) as I envisaged when reading. Perfume actually delivers quite an impressive piece of casting - Dustin Hoffman and Alan Rickman to name but two, and well, they certainly don’t displease.
The film is fairly lengthy at 145 minutes and this said, misses out huge chunks of the source text. Naturally this occurs with adaptations, novels just aren’t the same as screenplays, and this adaptation certainly won’t impede upon your enjoyment of it as a story. It does however take a path away from the ‘character study’ element of the novel, one which probably is more to do with making a more mainstream and accessible movie than anything else, but all the same…
Grenouille of the novel is outwardly sociopathic and point blank lacks the ability to love, feel guilt, or even acknowledge consequence. The Grenouille of Tykwer’s world is more ambiguous and lacks that epic God-complex that made the novel so enthralling. From his first killing one not acquainted with sociopathic Grenouille may well be fooled into thinking that he did in fact fall in love with the victim. The way he rips clothes away from her body, and delicately presses nostrils against skin will certainly provide titillation for many audience members. It’s sensually lit, bathed in gold light and could be mistaken for a sex scene. This sexual ambiguity runs for the remainder of the film, (until the very end where Grenouille himself admits he cannot experience love and commits suicide with the aid of his ultimate human perfume) and it is the only problem I have with it as a whole. I feasted upon the book because it was a fabulous exploration of human sense. Perfume the film is not.
Sexual or asexual?
The length may put off some viewers, and admittedly it is a very slow 145 minutes. I don’t think however it would settle within 90 minutes and its slowness does everything to exacerbate and make example of Grenouilles lonely, meandering life where he knows we’re all just working towards the end. Everything you experienced with speed, soundtrack and editing with Tykwer's Run Lola Run, just think the opposite and that's everything you need to know about Perfume.
I read the book before I watched the film. I recommend you do it the other way around. The book is a genuinely intriguing read, but the film perhaps deserves to be seen more as a standalone work to be enjoyed. The cinematography is nothing new or particularly note-worthy, but I cannot fault Whishaw’s performance, and well, could anyone say no to a bit of Rickman in 18th century costume?
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