“Providence” depends on a unique screenplay by David Mercer, the English author (“Morgan: A Suitable Case for Treatment”) who is also called a dramatist, and, to be sure, disregarding the majority of the film’s lively, urgent cutting around among old Clive Langham’s dreams, the film has the static way of an effortlessly mountable yet lethally exhaust play script.
The stun of “Providence” is the way Mr. Resnais (“Hiroshima, Mon Amour,” “La Guerre Est Finie,” and so forth.) could have succumbed to such breezy demands. Is it since English is not his first dialect or might it be able to be that he’s resounding an announcement made inside the film by Clive Langham such that “style is feeling”?
Assuming this is the case, the sentiment “Providence” is the sort of cool chic that can be effortlessly bought by contracting the right cameraman, set planner, writer and on-screen characters who, notwithstanding Mr. Gielgud, incorporate Dirk Bogarde, Ellen Burstyn, David Warner and Elaine Stritch.