Friday, November 7, 1997
Screen Scene
"Bean"
Directed by Mel Smith.
Starring Rowan Atkinson, Peter Macnicol, Pamela Reed
In case you are under the impression that a film based on a
British TV series which appears on PBS must be refined and
respectable, "Bean" will surprise you. The show, and now the
full-length movie, are engagingly as far from sophistication as you
can get.
The story is pretty simple. Bean, played by Rowan Atkinson
("Four Weddings and a Funeral"), enjoying a protected job, sits
quietly in a corner of the London National Art Gallery – sleeping
like the Maytag repairman. Naturally, the childish,
M&M-scarfing fool doesn’t mix well with the gallery’s priggish,
intellectual board of directors. When they spot an opportunity to
ship him away to California to pose as a renowned art scholar, the
board seizes the chance. Besides, they figure, those barbaric,
culture-deprived Yankees won’t know the difference.
The running joke, of course, is that we Americans don’t know the
difference. Despite proving his absolutely mind-boggling stupidity
scene after scene, Bean still manages to retain respect as "the
celebrated Dr. Bean."
Angelenos label his childishness as mere "eccentricity" and note
his shocking social ineptness as the result of too much reading.
Bean’s stupidity puts Ace Ventura to shame, yet the very
intellectuals who would probably turn their noses up to Jim Carrey
are shown here embracing Bean – with hilariously open arms.
In a particularly clever jab at America’s lack of refinement,
Burt Reynolds (popping up unexpectedly all over the place these
days), appears briefly as an "art-lover" who purchases "Whistler’s
Mother" for $50 million just because he can’t stand the thought of
those "Frenchies" owning the greatest painting ever to come out of
America.
Not only does Bean bridge the gap between the United States and
Britain, he bridges the gap between childhood and adulthood. He has
never grown up, and doesn’t want to. This is probably why Bean has
captured the hearts of millions.
The only crime "Bean" commits is not showcasing Atkinson’s
talents enough. Often, the gifted comedian takes a back seat to the
disappointingly bland supporting cast. Peter Macnicol turns in a
boring, one-note performance as the Grierson curator continually
annoyed and baffled by Bean’s stunts.
Yet Bean’s ample hilarity is dumb and dumber enough that the
British buffoon should become America’s next comic sensation.
Ash Steffy
Grade: B+
"The Wings of the Dove"
Directed by Iain Softley
Starring Helena Bonham Carter, Linus Roache and Alison
Elliott
Iain Softley sure was an interesting choice to direct "The Wings
of the Dove," the third adaptation of a Henry James novel in a
little over a year. Softley’s first feature was the insipid
"Backbeat." His most recent film was (cough) "Hackers" – ’nuff
said.
With this latest film, Softley starts on a clean slate, wiping
out the memory of his first two films in the process. Though the
film lacks the visuals in Merchant/Ivory films, it more than makes
up for it in Softley’s ability to create a low-key environment
enabling his principle stars to subtly peel off layers of inner
turmoil that demonstrate the struggle between the heart and the
mind.
Period piece queen Helena Bonham Carter plays free-spirited Kate
Croy, living a life of luxury and high-class during the early
1900s, under her aunt’s (Charlotte Rampling) watchful eye.
Right from the opening, we see the passionate love Kate shares
with journalist Merton Densher (Linus Roache). Their love is
restricted, however, because of Merton’s status as a commoner and
the connivance of Kate’s aunt. Then Millie Theale (Allison Elliott)
appears as the solution to Kate’s problem, an American heiress with
a vast fortune and waning health.
The film comes into its own as we see Kate’s duplicitous nature
when she attempts to make Millie fall for Merton. The developing
friendship of the principle characters gives insight into the
psychological manifestations that come as a result of the complex
manipulation of fate by everyone involved.
"The Wings of the Dove" was tailor-made to let its actors shine.
Kate’s inner demons give Carter her most memorable role since
"Howard’s End." Carter demonstrates her depth as an actress as she
shows us a sympathetic and human side to a woman who outwardly
comes off as cold and detached.
Film buffs will recognize Roache, Carter’s partner in crime, in
his first film since his debut as the title character in the
controversy-laden "Priest." The two roles are not dissimilar.
In "Priest," Roache played a character struggling between his
love for the church and his love for another man. Here, Roache
plays a character struggling between his rooted love for Kate and
his blossoming love for Millie.
The most surprising performance in the film though goes to
Elliott ("The Spitfire Grill"), who could have easily played Millie
as your typical, sweet and innocent tragic heroine. Instead,
Elliott gives us a character who is bold and unafraid to obtain
what she wants, yet good-natured enough to make your heart
melt.
Each character’s desire best represents Henry James’s most
common themes. Kate looks for the freedom to break away from the
chains of a rigid class system. Merton desires the wealth that will
allow him to marry Kate. Millie longs for love that will sweep her
away before her imminent departure from the world.
In the end, "The Wings of the Dove" is not so much a statement
about life being a struggle between good and evil, but rather about
life being a struggle between good and bad circumstances.
Tristan Thai
Grade: A-
"Sick"
Directed by Kirby Dick
Featuring Bob Flanagan
Shriek contentedly as you drive that nail through the tip of
your penis. Groan with pleasure as you feel your wife shove a
fist-sized metal ball up your anus. Hell, do anything to take your
mind off the fact that you’re dying.
At least, that’s how Bob Flanagan saw it, having been born with
cystic fibrosis, a disease which fills the lungs with mucous and
kills most of its victims before age 30.
Yet Flanagan, an award-winning writer and performance artist who
based his art on his masochistic obsessions, held out until age 43.
His death last year and the two years prior provide the bulk of
Kirby Dick’s intriguing documentary, "Sick."
This piece meticulously explores what shapes the strange sexual
and emotional hunger of a masochist as much as it attempts to
capture the decline of an individual into the realms of death. A
fascinating examination of a subcultural phenomenon, "Sick" eases
viewers into a position comfortable with Flanagan’s destructive
behavior without suggesting that self-brutality offers itself as
the only means of coping with a life-threatening disease. And how
could it when sewing one’s testicles together so rarely finds its
way into medical journals as a reliever of internal physical
ills?
However, the film never holds back, or causes audiences to feel
isolated from Flanagan’s world. Including everything from taped
performances at S&M clubs to readings to short films that
Flanagan and his wife crafted in the ’80s, the man’s psyche is laid
bare. Interviews with his family find their way on screen to sketch
a broad portrait of the social misfit.
The piece does feel like a side show carnival at times, throwing
in gratuitous scenes of Flanagan’s sexual perverseness solely for
shock effect.
Still, it would seem inappropriate to keep footage tame. For
instance, why not show his wife slice a lightning shaped scar into
his chest or apply industrial clamps to his stomach? Flanagan would
have wanted fans to watch and in an voyeuristic way, audiences will
want to humor him. At least, they won’t be able to tear their eyes
from the screen.
Beyond the inclusion of the grotesque, though, Kirby deals
lovingly with Flanagan as a suffering individual, constantly biting
back unendurable amounts of physical pain. Neither portrayed as a
victim or a hero, a freak or an average Joe, Flanagan comes across
as human. A human with quirks and trauma, a human who knows he will
die. And, though his life may have been one of extremes, he died
just as unglamourously as anyone.
Vanessa VanderZanden
Grade: A