Seven Veils

Atom Egoyan explores the entangled mess of life and art in Seven Veils, his film about the revival of a famous stage production of Richard Strauss’ opera Salome, which is based on Oscar Wilde’s play—itself inspired by a biblical story. With the film’s intertextual threads raveled and knotted from the outset, the Canadian director considers violations—past and present, onstage and off—in the pursuit of art. Egoyan mines the behind-the-scenes drama of stage rehearsals, promotional discussions, and the artists’ complex relationships with art, confronting myriad themes from appropriation to repressed emotions to accountability for toxic behavior. To be sure, the film, written by Egoyan, has much on its mind, almost certainly too much. While Egoyan’s intricate and thorny film proves dizzyingly metatextual, it’s also so thoughtfully constructed and acted that it’s impossible not to feel intrigued by its layers. 

The perfect viewer of Seven Veils is anyone familiar with Salome, especially Egoyan’s 2023 stage production with the Canadian Opera Company—a revival of a version he first directed in 1996. (Admittedly, I am not the perfect viewer, having never seen Egoyan’s stage work.) After nearly thirty years, the director shows no signs of reaching the text’s limits, stating in the press notes that he considered how Salome could reflect “today’s complex environment of identity politics and sensitivities to sexual misconduct.” Egoyan shot Seven Veils during the recent stage production, using many of the opera singers in his film. Most prominent are Michael Kupfer-Radecky, whose lecherous character Johann plays John the Baptist in the play-within-the-film, and Ambur Braid, Salome’s renowned Canadian soprano and captivating lead. And while the opera rehearsals provide a backdrop to the film, they also function as a platform to work through the characters’ internal conflicts.

Amanda Seyfried stars in her second collaboration with Egoyan after 2009’s Chloe, playing Jeanine, a stage director tasked with overseeing the production originated by her late mentor Charlie. The experience brings to the surface disturbing memories—not only of her complex personal and professional relationship with Charlie but also of her father, who shot strange, experimental videos of her as a child, suggesting some unspecified manner of abuse. Charlie used those videos as inspiration for his version of Salome. Jeanine has never fully unpacked that association, its links to the opera, and how that shapes her relationship with the production. There’s also her husband, Paul (Mark O’Brien), from whom she’s separated. He regularly visits Jeanine’s declining mother, Margot (Lynne Griffin), though perhaps only because he’s sleeping with Dimitra (Maia Jae Bastidas), Margot’s caregiver. 

Jeanine’s production isn’t so much her own as the opera company’s attempt to recreate Charlie’s vision. The producers even refuse to allow her to publish a director’s statement and express concerns about her plans to make “small but meaningful” changes. This leaves her in a curious space, caught between her need to confront questions from her past and being prevented from exploring ideas that would contradict the work of someone who exploited her. This thread is echoed in a subplot involving a sculptor named Clea (Rebecca Liddiard), who is assigned to make the prosthetic head for the John the Baptist decapitation scene. She records her progress for social media and, in one session, captures Johann’s aggressive pass at her—an incident the producers hope she will keep quiet about to preserve the integrity of the show. Clea uses her leverage to get her partner Rachel (Vinessa Antoine), who’s been understudying as Salome, the lead role. 

Egoyan’s films often have a precise aesthetic, and Seven Veils is no exception. Paul Sarossy’s cinematography is sharp and clear, emphasizing the complex relationship between art and those who make it. Phillip Barker’s production design draws from Egoyan’s stage production of Salome, which incorporates expressionistic, off-kilter stage designs with video and shadow play elements as well. A recurring theme in Egoyan’s work is how technology frames relationships, creating a filtering or distancing effect while also establishing the illusion of closeness—see Family Viewing (1987), The Adjuster (1991), and Adoration (2008). This is most evident in Jeanine’s childhood videos shot by her father, where he blindfolded her and had her perform in an obscure video art piece. But there’s also Jeanine and Paul’s regular video chats, the digital connective tissue of their relationship.

Like Egoyan’s The Sweet Hereafter (1997), Ararat (2002), Where the Truth Lies (2005), and other offerings in his filmography, the director’s latest ruminates on memory, secrets, and trauma with an ingrained interest in his characters’ inner lives. Seyfried, who seems to get better with each successive performance, is excellent here, playing a character who yearns to control her art (an opera about “the first recorded sex crime in biblical history,” she says) yet remains tied to her past. She’s backed by the whole production, particularly the superb singers from the Canadian Opera Company who, along with the actual stages, lend authenticity to the proceedings. Egoyan’s script can feel overly elusive and searching at times, and arguably unresolved. But it’s no less fascinating to spend time with such complex characters in a thought-provoking drama.