Fur

Bless its hirsute heart, Fur attempts a nontraditional tribute to photographer Diane Arbus (Nicole Kidman), known for her portraits of sexual deviants, giants, little people and others on society’s fringe. But this Alice in Wonderland-esque fable, tracking her theoretical evolution from repressed wallflower to visionary artist, doesn’t go deep enough down the rabbit hole.
 
In 1958 New York, Diane (pronounced DEE-ann, thank you very much) Arbus is a devoted wife and mother who works as an assistant in her hubby’s photography biz. Then a mysterious, hooded figure (Robert Downey Jr.) moves into the upstairs apartment. Arbus shares an immediate connection with her new neighbor, who suffers from a genetic defect that covers his body with hair. Drawn into his bizarre world, she starts fraternizing with “freaks,” which puts a strain on her marriage but also pushes her along the path of self-discovery.
 
Ironically, as her relationship with Downey's character develops, the narrative stagnates somewhat, for beneath all the woolly weirdness is a very standard love story—part beauty and the beast, part desperate housewife hot for exotic stranger. Would that Fur had further pushed its premise, delving more into the perverse and hinting at her eventual suicide.
 
Still, the film features some lovely, seductive passages, thanks to director Steven Shainberg’s fluid visual style (as in his previous pic, Secretary) and a capable cast. Understated Kidman plays nicely off Downey, who gives a surprisingly soulful per-fur-mance despite being buried under pelts befitting Chewbacca.