Roman Polanski is no stranger to making movies of characters trapped by their environments.

Whether it be his all-time classic "Rosemary's Baby," which took place in few locations and was dominated by its claustrophobic nature, or even his far grander "The Pianist," which played with isolation in a historic context, the filmmaker has always had a way of revealing the psychological turmoil of characters who are persecuted by the world around them. A few year ago, the filmmaker took a stab a literally restricting his characters to one location in the entertaining if not always successful "Carnage."

Now he has taken those theatrical roots and pushed them to their limits with his latest film "Venus in Fur." The film caps the filmmaker's non-English language film in about four decades and is among his finest achievements in recent years.

The film's premise is rather basic. An actress (Polanski's wife Emmanuelle Seigner) arrives for an audition at a theater and meets the director Thomas (Mathieu Amalric) who is frustrated by his inability to find the right woman for the part. Their initial interaction is rather cagey, but as the drama unfolds (literally and metaphorically on-screen and onstage) the relationship develops into something quite complex. The film only features two actors for its entire duration and is dominated by long flourishes of dialogue.

But that does not mean that this is merely a conversation piece with talking heads. The underlying power struggle is not only expressed through the characters, but Polanski also manages to break the fourth wall with the viewer (as the characters do when they go from playing roles in a play to conversing as their everyday personas) throughout. For example, when the female character arrives (known as Wanda throughout), she is wearing a long coat and seems a bit disheveled and disoriented. 

The immediate reaction is that Wanda is in the wrong place and at the wrong time; she even comes off as a bit irritating. But then she takes off the coat and reveals S&M attire that not only adds tremendous sexual tension to the scene but automatically changes the audience's perception of her. She is no longer some dumb blonde, but there is an intrigue and fascination with her.

Polanski is playing on this idea of male gaze throughout, framing Wanda as desirable, but at the same time a bit alarming and strange. While she plays to the dumb blonde stereotype at times, she slowly takes on a more imposing presence as she effects a brilliant role reversal with Thomas. On the other side of the battle, Thomas starts off as the imposing no-nonsense man who has no interest in wasting time, but he himself like the viewer finds a certain attraction to this disheveled woman.

The film takes numerous unexpected turns despite its limited settings, and the characters' psychological twists and turns make it truly hard to pin where this story is going. And the beauty of it all is that Polanski's big coup comes at the tail end when he not only melds the fantasy of the play with the reality of the story but in how he exerts the film's ultimate thematic idea with such glee and exuberance. The tone is the ultimate masterstroke here as the rather dark material retains a sarcastic feel thanks to the joyous music by Alexandre Desplat. And yet this rather youthful score feels a bit out of place in the overall context; Polanski clearly wants to keep the audience unsettled throughout, and he manages this task wondrously.

A tremendous amount of credit must be given to Amalric and Seigner who really engage the viewer with fearless performances. As noted earlier, this film is filled with unpredictable plot twists, but none are more apparent than those given off by the actors themselves. Seigner manages to walk a tightrope between inner rage and naiveté that makes it rather difficult to truly articulate what she is thinking at any particular moment; she is irresistible at times and yet polarizing at others. Amalric's performance is a bit more straight-forward but mainly because his character is losing his mind more and more as the film progresses and his inner battle is manifested with the external one he is having with Seigner's Wanda. His transformation from a cocky and often unlikeable authoritative figure to a weak but sympathetic child is mesmerizing in its depth and subtlety.

"Venus in Fur" is so nuanced and detailed that it requires the viewer's full attention for its full 90-plus minutes. Every word and every frame is crammed with vital information that will reward the audience member who pays close attention. It is truly a wondrous achievement by a filmmaker that never ceases to surprise.