"Head in the Clouds"

During an evening on the town, Gilda and Mia perform that popular staple of art-house period pictures, the Dance Number With Lesbian Overtones. (Apparently Mia's impediment doesn't affect her ballroom dancing -- she's the Mel Tillis of Spanish refugee ballroom dancers.) With civil war raging in Spain, Guy and Mia are drawn to join the Loyalist struggle. Gilda, who secretly believes a fortune teller's prediction that she will die young, doesn't want to lose either of her lovers and tries to make them feel their contributions will be in vain.

War ravages Spain. Mia, her dedication to the cause evident in the saucer-size circles under her eyes, tends to the wounded. (At times, Cruz's pale complexion and dark eyes make it look as if Marcel Marceau had wandered into "For Whom the Bell Tolls.") Guy does what he can to make more work for Mia's counterparts on the Fascist side. Both write letters to their beloved Gilda that are left unopened in her Paris apartment.

Years pass. The Spanish Civil War turns out to have been a mere dress rehearsal for the larger conflagration to follow. Guy works with British intelligence to aid the French Resistance, an enterprise that entails smoking many harsh cigarettes and surreptitiously listening to coded messages broadcast on the BBC. The Nazis take over Paris, hogging the best tables at restaurants and rarely offering to get the check. Events conspire to reunite the long-separated Guy and Gilda for their rendezvous with destiny. Will Gilda see the light and join the cause? Will Guy ever get a decent suit? Will Mia survive to fox-trot in a free Europe?

With a plot like that, a movie doesn't have to do much to be fun old-fashioned romantic trash. To his credit, Duigan doesn't appear at all bedeviled by the guilt that affects some political filmmakers over the display of movie luxury. (For years, Bernardo Bertolucci ignored the lush, sensualist nature of his movies, insisting that his professed Marxism was a truer expression of him.) He wants "Head in the Clouds" to be a rousing tale of political commitment and a plush movie romance.

His production team, cinematographer Paul Sarossy (who has shot many of Atom Egoyan's movies), production designer Jonathan Lee, and costumer Mario Davignon, have put together an ode to '30s glamour. Sarossy shoots the movie in warm browns and golds that give Lee's interiors a glowing richness. And though I can't be certain, there are a few outdoor shots that look enough like a storybook illustration to make you wonder if Lee hasn't -- artfully -- employed painted backdrops. Davignon's clothes, tweeds and wools and silks, move with the actors, conveying elegance and comfort.

Theron, her hair going from a blond Louise Brooks bob to soft, marcelled waves, emerges here as one of the movies' most spectacular clothes horses. The gowns she wears hang beautifully on her long frame, and her accessories are often well-chosen. Acting the spy in one scene, she's given a fedora arched perfectly over one eye, and there's a shot of her with a row of Bakelite bracelets ascending her arm that recalls the famous Cecil Beaton photo of the socialite Nancy Cunard. (Theron's wittiest outfit is her most minimalist. Wearing only a fedora and a tie as she hovers over Townsend in the bathtub, she looks like a Vargas girl come to life.)

Next Page: The chemistry between real-life lovers Theron and Townsend

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