It has finally been achieved. Against all odds and common sense Patrick Suskind’s novel ‘Das Parfum’ has been filmed. And this was after Stan “the Man” Kubrick claimed that it couldn’t be done (and this was a man who felt there was no sentence in the English language that couldn’t be filmed). Tim Burton and Ridley Scott attempted to nab the book’s rights, until it finally fell into the hands of German producer Bernd Eichinger, and was funded by European money.

Perfume: the Story of a Murderer (perhaps I’m being cynical, but the film’s added subtitle must have been an attempt to attract a broader, more bloodthirsty audience), charts the life of Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, an orphan who was blessed with the most astute sense of smell any human has ever possessed. Living through 18th Century France, he lifts himself out of the sewers by learning the trade of a perfumer, only to strive to capture the scent of everything, including beautiful women. In an attempt to create the most glorious scent in the world, the scentless apprentice will do anything for his obsession.

So how did Kraut director Tom Tykwer manage to film a book filled with the descriptions of scents? Well, smell is mostly identified through a shot of Grenouille’s nostrils inhaling followed by an image. It’s as simple as that, and while it can get repetitive, Tykwer does make a fair stab at substituting aroma with the language of glossy imagery.

The film’s main strength comes in the performance. As the story of a scent-obsessed maniac, it’s a difficult job to keep people associated with his driving force. But relative newcomer Ben Whishaw is astounding as Grenouille. Passion spews through his eyes, and at the precisely right moment he can switch from evil killer to distraught child. And unlike most actors, he doesn’t just act through what he says, but also through his body. His every movement is suspiciously nimble, more beast than human, just enough to remind us that he’s a step aside from humanity. Strong support comes from Alan Rickman and Dustin Hoffman, the latter adding a dash of humour, albeit in a dodgy ‘European’ accent, to his role as Baldini, Grenouille’s pompous teacher in all things perfumed.

However, one problem I had was the film’s reliance on voice-over. Although John Hurt dictates well, it detracts from the visual prowess of the film. The movie infers a feeling, an emotion, a reaction, only to have it dictated to us in literary detail as well. I felt pushed into having the right reaction, as opposed to using my mind to sense it. This flaw weakens the film’s wondrous ending, where the dark drama alters into something both ridiculous and marvellous (plus it contains an amusing dig at Paris’s status as the Romantic City). Such a denouement would be better served by ponderous imagery alone, and not Hurt’s drawl half-attempting to offer an explanation.

I really wish I hated this film. Mostly because I could have come up with a witty headline, such as “Perfume Stinks!”. Yet Tykwer’s style of visual sensuality in films such as Wintersleepers made him the best man for the job. That said, although it boasts a great lead, it is bogged down by its bond to its source. It may not stink, but it fails to come close to the overwhelming odour that Grenouille’s ambition strives for. Simply put, if Perfume: the Story of a Murderer is a smell, it is ultimately a pleasant scent, and not much more.