Review: An ‘Affair’ to forget, almost immediately

The multi-decade-spanning drama “The Affair” raises more questions than it answers: Questions such as “Who?” “Which?” “What?” “Where?” and, mostly, “Why?”

The primary question is “Why is this movie called ‘The Affair’”? The answer is doubtless found in some marketing office in which it was decided the original title of the film, and of the Booker Prize-shortlisted novel on which it’s based, “The Glass Room,” wasn’t hot ‘n’ sexy enough. But “The Glass Room” would have been far more appropriate for this decidedly unerotic (for the most part) film not so much about any particular affair than 40-ish years of Czech history through the significantly removed prism of the glass-walled, futuristic home in which much of it is set.

You may be asking, “What affair?,” but you might as well be asking, “Which affair?,” as there are four (maybe three, it’s not clear) in the story, and the most important one, between the two female leads, isn’t really an affair.

The film is set in the former Czechoslovakia; that’s necessary to clarify because otherwise you’d no doubt be wondering early on, “Where is this?,” as there’s no mention of the country for some time. It’s a Czech production, but everyone speaks English, with various accents. Anyway, we begin with Liesel (Hanna Alström) and Viktor (Claes Bang) getting married and engaging revered architect Rainer von Abt (the venerable Karel Roden) to design them a masterpiece both sleekly futuristic and timeless.

Time jumps forward fitfully in fleeting scenelets — they’re married, the house is built, she’s pregnant, she’s pregnant again — but one of the constants in Liesel’s life is her best friend, Hana (Carice van Houten). The women are drawn to each other sexually, but Liesel can’t act on it, then the scene changes again and whoops, we realize the “When” part; there are rumblings of the Nazis rising not far away. Liesel and Hana, says Hana, are both married to Jewish men. “What? Hana is married?” Yep, all of a sudden, it’s so.

This is all in the first 20 minutes; without spelling out too much of what’s to come, there’s an affair (not Liesel and Hana), Liesel and family flee for another country, Hana sticks around for some reason, and there’s another affair (also not Liesel and Hana, but it also may reveal yet another affair), and fine Danish actor Roland Møller (so great in “Land of Mine”) shows up as, I think, a collaborator who is installed by the Nazis in the glass domicile.

Von Abt’s creation houses first the fabulously wealthy (Liesel and family), then a Nazi office, then becomes an example of postwar dilapidation, then is used by the Communist Party for decadent, um, parties. Then it’s a museum to something or other.

It’s all well and good to require viewers to do some work, to figure things out, but the brevity of the scenelets and the important things that go unexplained will have plenty asking, “Who’s that? Where is the kid? Why are they staying?”

Liesel and Hana don’t have any scenes together for nearly an hour, leaving us with little that would involve us in their relationship. And the film’s depiction of sex tends to be of physically uncomfortable encounters between people who don’t care for each other.

So what’s “The Affair” about? When persuading Von Abt to take the job, Liesel tells him she wants “clarity and light.” The architect introduces the idea of truth, asking if she is “ready to live in the light.” He designs the home so one enters at the streamlined, transparent top and descends into “the heart of the house,” setting up potential metaphors about delving into the truths of the characters and, presumably, Czech life over tumultuous decades.

But that’s not what we get. We get slivers of moments and feelings described rather than experienced. The very setting, the ultra-modern house on the hill, is too far removed from the average citizen to offer much insight into changing mores. There’s no new commentary into how people respond to drastic change, personally or socially. There are just shards. And lingering questions.