I’ve seen Cold Souls. It’s intriguing and mildly amusing at times, but for a comedy in which a New York actor literally plays himself (in this instance Paul Giamatti) it’s no Being John Malkovich either. My usual reaction to seeing a comedy that doesn’t entirely work is to complain that they should’ve toned down the schtick. But Cold Souls could’ve used a bit more schtick. Odd — I never thought I’d hear myself say that.
I’m saying there’s something a bit too dry and studied about it. The director/writer, Sophie Barthes, isn’t into fooling around for its own sake, but this is exactly what Cold Souls needs. It need a little Buck Henry or Sarah Silverman or David O. Russell attitude. But it’s not half bad.
My only other thought is that Giamatti needs to (a) stop losing hair follicles and (b) get back to his Sideways weight. He needs to be Miles again — seriously. He needs to make time stand still. He needs to dip himself into amber and just be that guy for the next 50 or 60 years.