A MISTAKE is a paint-by-numbers approach to a complicated tragedy
A Mistake
Written and Directed by Christine Jeffs
Starring Elizabeth Banks, Mickey Sumner, Fern Sutherland
Runtime: 101 minutes
In theaters September 20
by Carmen Paddock, Staff Writer
From its title alone, it is clear that A Mistake – director and writer Christine Jeffs’ latest feature – will center around a seismic error that changes many lives. Accomplished surgeon Elizabeth “Liz” Taylor (Elizabeth Banks) is woken by a call for emergency surgery on a patient, Lisa (Acacia O'Connor), who has returned to hospital with agonizing abdominal pains. Her registrar, Richard (Richard Crouchley), is well versed on Lisa’s case and symptoms – she was previously discharged with painkillers three days before – and confident in this high-pressure situation despite the fact he has not yet finished his full training. The laparoscopic procedure uncovers advanced septicemia, and Liz encourages Richard to insert the final trocar that will help drain the area of fluid. After a small hesitation and a few false starts, he does so – and immediately bursts an artery, requiring emergency surgery to stop the bleeding. The rest of the surgery goes as planned, and Lisa seems set for recovery. It does not seem to be a mistake worth notifying Lisa’s parents of, but when she dies of the sepsis in the ICU Liz has to make choices to tell the whole truth, the partial truth, or none of the truth to shelter herself and Richard from the fallout.
A Mistake thus feels like a misnomer; more than one accident, error of judgement, and little white lie push the plot forward, yet each one feels driven by good intentions and honest slip-ups rather than any sort of calculation. While technically everything that happens is a mistake, the worst consequences and escalations come from subterfuge and half-truths, making the titular occurrence feel less monumental and more expository.
However, A Mistake is hampered more by its artistic choices than its title or pacing. Had there been some invention in the editing, cinematography, or score, the film might work as a gripping slice-of-life drama that sheds light on the conflict between medicine and bureaucracy, the horrifying choices doctors face every day, and the (in)ability to live with innocent slip-ups that cost people their lives. Unfortunately, these often-overlooked yet all-important artistic elements are bland and cheap, lending A Mistake the air of an extended soap opera rather than a feature film. John Toon’s cinematography has no variation in depth or colour, and Paul Maxwell’s straightforward editing chooses no emphases. The worst offender is the score by Frank Ilfman, which begins at the same tempo, volume, and constancy as it finishes. With no such dynamic changes picking out emotional and thematic highs and lows, the dramatic journey feels foregone and stunted. A Mistake is, if anything, a masterclass in illustrating the importance of a score in defining a film’s impact, memorability, and quality; with a better, more interesting score attuned to the nuances of such a story, the film’s stakes would feel far more gripping.
Elizabeth Banks is presumably a major force behind the film’s greenlighting and funding, but her New Zealand accent never convinces and the script gives her Liz no true moments of reflection and growth, throwing her between operating theater, staff meeting, and home-based disaster with barely a chance to reflect – and barely a chance for the audience to breathe. Jeffs’ script similarly allows no other character lines that go beyond the expository, and the supporting performances and plot’s developments feel perfunctory as a result.
A Mistake takes a complicated scenario and washes it of artistic finesse, making the ensuing emotional impact negligible. The end result feels more like an infomercial on the risks and limits of modern medicine – as both a patient and as a practitioner – than a feature film. With great medical realist dramas like This Is Going to Hurt having been released in recent years, A Mistake lives up to its title.