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At the
Movies In
arts service
By JOSEPH CUNNEEN
The opening of The Golden
Bowl promised to be a major spring event for former English majors and
those with cultural yearnings, but the Master wouldnt have much liked it.
As usual, the producer-director team of Ismail Merchant and James Ivory,
working again with screenwriter Ruth Prawer Jhabvalas adapting of Henry
James novel, maintain the highest production standards, take their
audience to impressive European locations, and communicate a sense of
refinement and assured elegance. Stung perhaps by criticism of some of their
work as middlebrow Masterpiece Theater fare, they open with an
attention-getting opening scene with uniformed guards storming an ornate
Renaissance bedroom to separate two adulterous lovers amid much sound and fury.
The idea is to suggest the flamboyant family history of Prince Amerigo (Jeremy
Northam), a handsome but impecunious Italian aristocrat. In 1904, several
centuries after the opening scene, Prince Amerigo is about to marry the
innocent Maggie Verver (Kate Beckinsale). It will take quite a while for most
moviegoers to make this connection, however. In any case, the scene is
over-wrought.
If directors make their own interpretation of works they are
adapting, they need to remember that they proceed at their own risk. The
Merchant-Ivory Golden Bowl exploits the star appeal of Uma Thurman
as Charlotte Stant, Maggies best friend, who constantly throws herself at
the prince, a former lover. The effect is to considerably absolve the prince of
responsibility in resuming their affair after his marriage, and to reduce
James complex study of Maggies growth in maturity to high-class
soap opera. The movie keeps Maggie in the background and introduces
embarrassingly flamboyant entertainments at the supposedly elegant
affair the prince and Charlotte attend at a distinguished English estate.
In fairness it should be pointed out that no movie can capture the
subtleties of Jamess style. For The Golden Bowl it would be
especially difficult since James is so sparing in his use of direct dialogue,
and his text does not lend itself to brief voice-overs. Still,
there is hardly reason to bother with James at all if one ignores his
preference for a certain indirect and oblique view of the
action.
Nick Nolte provides something of what is needed in his portrayal
of Maggies billionaire father, Adam, who marries Charlotte at least
partly to reassure his daughter that he will not be lonely. Fanny Asingham
(Angelica Huston), who had prepared the way for Maggies marriage, and her
disengaged husband (James Fox), offer comically contrasting attitudes to the
unfolding story.
Although Northam suggests the divided motivations of the prince
and Beckingsales growing maturity gradually becomes evident, the movie
fails to capture the complex consciousness of James characters.
If youre looking for more adventurous moviegoing, seek out
two new Iranian movies: The Day I Became a Woman and The
Circle. Since these courageous and imaginative films on the condition of
women do not have national distribution, you may have to wait a few months and
rent them down at a good video store.
Amazingly, The Day I Became a
Woman is the directorial debut of Marziyeh Meshkini. She films the three
vignettes with power and economy, concentrating on human faces and the beauty
of the surrounding sea. The screenplay of her director-husband, Mohsen
Makhmalbaf, explores the heart of its feminist theme without cliché or
bombast. There are no slogans, just people struggling with their fates.
The first segment takes place on the day Hava (Fatemah Cheragh
Akhtar) turns 9. Now she must wear a chador. She and a neighbor boy had planned
to go to buy some ice cream, but grandmother tells her she can no longer play
with boys, and her mother measures out the cloth needed for the chador.
Finally, the grandmother relents: Since Hava was born at noon, she may play
until then. The grandmother plants a stick in the sand and shows Hava the
shadow it casts; when there is no longer a shadow, it will be noon. Meanwhile,
however, the boy has been told he must stay inside and do his homework. The
heart of the episode is in the yearning on the faces of the children: Hava sees
the shadow grow shorter, and calls up at the window to beg the boy to hurry;
the latter looks down, explaining why he cant leave.
The second episode seems less inventive. Ahoo (Shabnam Teloui) is
taking part with two dozen women in a bicycle race along the seashore. A man on
horseback, Ahoos husband, gallops furiously behind them. When he comes up
beside her, he yells at her to return home. The pattern is repeated: Members of
her family, and ultimately her tribe, tell her she is disgracing them, but she
goes on pedaling. We never learn the specifics of what she is running away
from, but the determination on her face is a clear challenge to Islamic
fundamentalism.
In the final segment, an old woman (Asizeh Seddighi) has a group
of boys take her to the city shopping center where she buys a refrigerator,
gadgets, a bed, lamps and chairs, perhaps made possible by a recent
inheritance. I never had anything, she says simply, as she rushes
through the emporium, checking pieces of colored string on her fingers that
remind her what to get next. The boys cart everything away to the seashore,
where it is laid out on the sand, a surrealistic outdoor living room facing a
magnificent sky. The final image, in which everything is being transported out
to sea on rafts made of planks tied to oil drums -- with the largest boat at
the center, the lady sitting up in bed with supreme confidence -- is achingly
memorable.
The Circle -- directed by
Jafar Panahi, who made the delightful White Balloon a few years ago
-- has only been shown once in Iran but won the Golden Lion at the last Venice
Film Festival. It begins with the cries of a woman in childbirth; a nurse calls
out, Its a beautiful little girl, and there is a gasp.
Everyone was expecting a boy. The maternal grandmother worries that the in-laws
will ask for a divorce.
The scene shifts abruptly to a busy street in Teheran where three
women look around anxiously and dart down an alley. The police detain one, and
the two others hide behind a car. We gradually realize that the women have just
gotten out of prison, but never learn what their offense was.
There is no overt violence in The Circle, but it is
clear that the constant condition of unauthorized women in Iran is terror. Like
the Italian neo-realists, Panahi uses a handheld camera and works principally
with non-actors. We hear the constant sounds of the city but no background
music. Panahis narrative technique is to follow the women in turn,
concentrating on the terror in their eyes as they try to light a cigarette on
the street without being observed.
The youngest, Nargess (Nargess Mamizadeh), who has an ugly bruise
under her left eye, is anxious to return to her home in the country, which she
thinks she recognizes in a print of Van Gogh she sees in a store. Arezou
(Maryam Parvin Almani) shows her where to catch the bus, but Nargess wanders
into a store to buy a shirt before disappearing when soldiers come by.
Pari (Fereshteh Sadr Orafai) is even more desperate: Her husband
has been put to death, and when she returns home, her father calls her a whore
and refuses to admit her. She goes to a hospital to visit an old friend who is
a nurse (and has achieved respectability by marrying a doctor), but when Pari
confesses that she is four months pregnant and needs an abortion, the friend is
too afraid to help.
There is a sense of watching a documentary, although the
patterning of detail becomes apparent at the end, which finds all its main
characters in The Circle of a jail cell. Panahi forces us to live
through never-ending bursts of alarm. There is nowhere for these women to go
for help. It took political courage to make this movie, but the directors
deep humanism is in the service of art, not ideology.
Joseph Cunneen is NCRs regular movie reviewer. His
e-mail address is SCunn24219@aol.com
National Catholic Reporter, May 11,
2001
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