It just takes a little while for them to actually deliver.
At first glance, the new romantic thriller Siberia has the kind of pedigree a film producer just couldn’t buy. The script comes courtesy of Scott Smith, author/screenwriter of A Simple Plan, the acclaimed Sam Raimi thriller which topped every “best of” list back in 1998 thanks to it’s tight plot weaving and cat-and-mouse feel. If that weren’t enough, the director of Siberia is Matthew Ross, the filmmaker behind 2016’s Frank & Lola, a romantic noir which brilliantly explored the dark intensity of uncontrollable passion. Given said talent and their proven abilities, it’s more than understandable why most cinephiles would be looking forward to the release of Siberia. What’s not understandable is why the film isn’t as good as it should be.
In Siberia, an American diamond expert named Lucas (Keanu Reeves) has traveled to Russia in order to facilitate the authentication and sale of some highly sought-after diamonds to a wealthy, but dangerous, businessman Boris (Pashda D. Lychnikoff). Eventually the search for his missing partner (and the diamonds) takes Lucas to a small town and to a beautiful cafe owner named Katya (Ana Ularu). Before he knows it, Lucas finds himself in a passionate affair as the search for his partner intensifies and his client seems hell bent on tracking him down.
There are mixed feelings to be had when it comes to the romantic elements of Siberia. It isn’t so much that the two actors have a hard time finding some sort of chemistry, it’s just that there aren’t as many moments for them to explore it early on. Because of this, the affair that develops between Lucas and Katya in the first half of the film feels more like a convenience than anything else. The moment in which we see Katya fling herself into Lucas’s search for his missing partner feels half-hearted; as if Katya herself is having trouble finding a reason to be interested. Eventually though, Siberia does manage to have its characters form a solid romantic connection. There’s something about the way the couple see each other; as two people that life essentially forgot about who have been wounded by the loneliness and darkness of their worlds. The idea that someone cared enough to acknowledge the broken sides of Lucas and Katya, and that it should be each other, is something incredibly special which the movie gets right. Despite any lack of sparks early on, when the two sides of Siberia’s story merge and Katya is inevitably thrust into Lucas’s situation with higher stakes attached, it’s impossible not to feel protective of this union and the danger circling it.
Yet much like the romance, the suspense level of Siberia is as slow-burn as it gets. Early on, the audience is given enough small glimpses into Lucas’s world and the existence he must adopt as a result of being a part of it. After a while though, the glimpses stop and all the audience is left with is the occasional call from Lucas to his missing partner that is depended upon to deliver intrigue. We are never totally sure of Lucas’s past, his motives or how he got to dealing with the kind of characters who are so hot on his tail. What’s more, we never get to find out. The action does finally ramp up in the last 30 minutes, and what happens on screen is diverting enough by action/thriller standards (especially in the telling, pulsating final few scenes). Yet it all seems to have been ripped away from a different movie altogether; one which DID in fact lay the groundwork for the kind of movie Siberia is trying really hard to be, or sadly thinks that it is.
The nature of Siberia’s script means that Reeves gets to do some genuine character work here, which he more than proves capable at. The actor conveys the fear and sensibility of a man over his head, who also finds himself at a new crossroads in life. Ularu meanwhile radiates the screen and comes across as such a magnetic figure. The level of physicality and overall commitment she’s made to her character means you know so much about Katya without the actress ever needing to say a word. Lychnikoff makes for a perfectly menacing heavy while Dmitry Chepovetsky as Katya’s brother brings a surprising touch of depth near the film’s end. Rounding out the cast is a conspicuous brief supporting turn by Molly Ringwald as Lucas’s wife. Yet her role is so inconsequential, I very nearly forgot about her involvement until I started writing this very paragraph.
I’m well aware that my complaints surrounding Siberia might lead one to believe that the film is an inconsequential waste of time. That’s certainly not the case. Siberia is far from straight to DVD fodder, but it’s also not first class either. The film lays comfortably somewhere in the middle thanks to it’s sometimes plodding nature and lack of almost total engagement with the genre it’s claiming to be. On the other hand, maybe because it came from the makers of two films I found to be so remarkable, I’m judging it a higher level than I otherwise normally would. Still, by the time Siberia ended, I found myself undeniably moved by the characters and somewhat devastated by the outcome awaiting them.
