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Reviews
A Midsummer Night's Dream (1999)
Although difficult to translate, has some nice touches
There probably aren't that many films that break most of the rules and succeed, but this one makes a strong effort. Let's see...
1) It's wordy. Of course, it's Shakespeare.
2) It has too many characters. See above.
3) It has no clearly identifiable main character. Huge defect in the eyes of Hollywood. How did it ever get produced?
4) It's arty. With Shakespeare, it's either arty or PBS/BBS drab. Let's settle for arty in that case.
Despite all these "handicaps," some of the directorial touches actually succeed. First, the translation to Tuscany circa 1900 takes advantage of that era's interest in fairy lore, romantic music, and the technology (like bicycles and phonographs) that was rendering fairy lore quaint. We are invited to see the fairies themselves encounter the technology that would obsolete them. Despite the translation of setting, the textual references to ancient Athens remain, and the viewer is--it is implied--requested to accommodate.
More importantly, this version contains the most sensitive treatment of the "mechanics," the common working men staging a play for the Duke, that I have ever seen. Nick Bottom retains his buffoonery, but a more sensitive side is brought out as he rejoins his fellows after the "dream." The production of "Pyramus and Thisby" contains a huge surprise that I won't spoil here. Certainly worth the price of admission for any fan of the bard who's seen most previous film versions of the play within the play.
The casting has its pluses and minuses. In general, the Brits fill their parts well, but the Americans are a step behind. Calista Flockhart wrestles with her words as if speaking a foreign language, and Stanley Tucci, although a great actor, does not give the impression that he can travel 50,000 odd miles per hour. We need more contrast between Puck and Rupert Everett's subdued, thoughtful Oberon. Finally, Michelle Pfeiffer, although a beautiful woman, does not give the impression of a force of nature. Rich housewife is closer to the mark. The exception to the rule is Kevin Kline, who distinguishes himself even above Robin Williams as a comic actor with the potential for serious depth.
Definitely worth checking out as the most accessible and competent Midsummer on film.
Prospero's Books (1991)
Eight courses of dessert
Most of the comments written about this film are true. It is dazzling and boring and intriguing and pretentious and artistic and arty. Its demands on the viewer are very high, causing most of the negative commentary seen here, but its rewards don't necessarily compensate for the demands.
Demands first:
Although almost all the text of Shakespeare's "The Tempest" is recited in the film, this is not the best opportunity to discover the play for the first time. Often the text is merely adornment for another agenda, one that uses imagery, music, and dance to embellish and explore deeper levels of the play. The play itself drowns under the weight of the other projects. This is annoying if you haven't read the play recently. But, even if you have, you will feel lost, if you need plot to control the structure of a film's presentation.
The 'look' of the film is consistent throughout its 140 minutes. Part of that look is its density--even stills from the film offer much to explore. The combined effect of the consistency and density is fatiguing. Unless you share a great deal of the director's peculiar vision, and take great delight in sharing that vision, you just get worn out under the assault. It's like eight courses of dessert for a meal.
The 'commentary' on the play has much to do with the history and art of renaissance England. If you are short on historical background here, the film won't meet you half way.
Rewards:
As I've hinted above, this film is a vision like you'll see nowhere else. Despite its use of Shakespeare's text, the combined effect of the presentation is far more meta-Shakespeare than Shakespeare. The film explores the idea that Prospero is Shakespeare at his most autobiographical and solipsistic. Perhaps it is also an exploration of the limits of genius at the frontier of complete madness.
Maybe those rewards are enough. But the ambition of the director also fires my personal ambition to discover more about Shakespeare and his times, particularly at the intersection of language, theology and empire. If this intersection is explored, then I lost it somewhere in the visual assault, obscured by Greenaway's (rather than Shakespeare's or Prospero's) art. In the end, I feel much like those others here who rant about the pretentiousness of this film. Maybe it's true that this is a little too personal a vision to justify incorporating the full two hours of "The Tempest." That, it seems, is too long for just dessert.
Jane Eyre (1996)
Dispassionate and Disappointing
I had thought before viewing that this might be one of the most difficult novels to adapt to screen. In the novel the whole story is told by Jane, a quiet and unassuming governess who rarely has the opportunity to give full voice to her most inward thoughts, at least to other characters. But she confides in us, the readers. Unlike most who meet her, the audience learns that Jane is highly passionate and needs passion from others in her life.
This adaptation, unfortunately, makes no effort to overcome the inherent weakness of film to bring inner life to the screen. Jane is portrayed as sullen and reticent. Her few opportunities to engage in witty dialog are bungled either by the screenplay or the actors. The direction and editing seem hellbent on getting all the "important" scenes shoehorned into two hours. What's left is, ironically, one of the most dispassionate films I've ever seen. This is all surface and no heart--the complete opposite of the Jane we'd like to get to know.