The Screengrab : charles dickens

Reviews By Request: Great Expectations (1946, David Lean)

Paul Clark — Fri, 10 Apr 2009 19:00:00 GMT

As always, I’ll be polling you folks to determine my next Reviews By Request column. To vote, see the poll at the end of the review.

With more than 270 adaptations of his work listed on the Internet Movie Database, Charles Dickens is one of the most-adapted authors in movie history. It’s not hard to see why- unlike many literary giants whose greatness lies primarily in their style, Dickens was first and foremost a gifted storyteller, famous for telling vivid tales full of memorable characters. Even in novel form today Dickens is both compulsively readable and easily adaptable to movies and television. Many adaptations of his work have a nuts-and-bolts Masterpiece Theatre quality, while others have re-imagined the stories in a different setting. But a few Dickens adaptations- the best ones, really- have managed to honor the author while simultaneously making his work wholly cinematic.

David Lean’s version of Great Expectations fits into this final category. It’s the kind of movie that reminds us not only of what made Dickens’ work special, but also of the pleasures of a particularly well-done big-screen literary adaptation. In run-of-the-mill cinematic adaptations, the filmmakers dutifully step from one storytelling beat to the next like an actor hitting his marks, and their films feel like homework. But in Great Expectations, the novel is the starting point rather than the destination, and Lean spins the yarn as if it were his own. Where most of its counterparts are pale shadows of the works that inspired them- the Cahiers du Cinema critics of yore disparagingly referred to these films as “tradition of quality”- Lean’s Great Expectations is a great entertainment in its own right, perhaps because he understands that Dickens was himself an entertainer.

To see this at work, look no further than the film’s opening scene in the graveyard, in which Pip (played as a boy by Tony Wager and John Mills as an adult) first meets the escaped convict Magwitch (Finlay Currie). A lesser filmmaker would have made this scene feel like exposition, a plot occurrence in which the hero meets one of the story’s key supporting players. Instead, Lean’s direction is reminiscent of an atmospheric horror film, with deep shadows and heavy fog, and a great unease as the fearsome Magwitch threatens this harmless young boy. In making the scene cinematic, Lean shows trust for both Dickens’ story and for the audience’s ability to keep up without having to have everything explained the way it was (out of necessity) in the novel.

Lean’s instinctive feeling for Dickens comes through again and again in Great Expectations, which allows him to wonderfully bring the world of the novel to the big screen- the cobwebbed mansion of Miss Havisham (Martita Hunt), Joe Gargery’s (Bernard Miles) blacksmith’s shop, the flat Pip shares in London with Herbert Pocket (Alec Guinness, in his first onscreen speaking role), all of it. Working with cinematographer Guy Green, production designer John Bryan, and costume designer Sophie Devine, Lean turns Great Expectations into a feast for the eyes, but the visual trappings of the film are more than just eye candy. Look at the way Pip’s gradual metamorphosis into a gentleman is reflected by his clothing- when he first arrives in London, he wears a garish suit that looks like one of Chris Elliott’s “fancy lad” outfits in Cabin Boy. Later on, when the kindly Joe arrives for a visit in a similar outfit, Pip scoffs at his poor taste, only to realize that his experiences have made him a snob.

The film’s version of Great Expectations is above all a story of kindness in a cruel world, and the far-reaching effects that this kindness can have. In the opening third of the movie, Pip is mistreated by nearly everyone he meets- his sister “Mrs. Joe” beats him and berates him for his curiosity, his more well-to-do relatives condescend to him because of his humble origins, and Miss Havisham uses him as a pawn in her revenge scheme against men. But there is goodness in Pip’s life as well, both in the form of the gentle Joe and in the favors Magwitch does Pip for his kindness- a small one at first, then a far greater one later. Because of the charity shown to Pip, he too becomes a charitable person in the end, in a story in which goodness is rewarded in kind.

Perhaps this push-pull relationship between cruelty and kindness is the reason why I found Estella (Jean Simmons as a teenager, Valerie Hobson as an adult) to be the film’s most compelling character. In her early scenes, she shows contempt for Pip, addressing him as “Boy” and bossing him around. But eventually we discover that, even more than Pip, she’s being manipulated by Miss Havisham, practically losing her soul as a result. Hobson’s performance as the adult Estella is particularly fascinating- years of living with Miss Havisham have caused her to ignore and distrust her emotions, so when she finds herself warming to the kind and forthright Pip, she has to hide it under good manners and forced politeness lest she be overwhelmed. When she finally sets aside her guardian’s teachings and gives herself over to her heart, it’s a lovely moment, because the movie has earned it.

We continue this week with the ever-popular themed Reviews By Request. April is a big month for Roger Ebert, marking not only the 11th Annual Ebertfest, but also the 300th installment in his ongoing Great Movies series. To commemorate the occasion, I’ve picked five of his Great Movies selections that I haven’t seen yet- an early masterpiece from India’s most acclaimed filmmaker, a Hollywood take on the Scopes trial, a classic samurai drama, a phantasmagoria from a giant of world cinema, and one of the most celebrated Canadian films ever made. So, which of these should I review next?

Which should I review next? | BuzzDash polls

Remember, voting closes on Monday night. As always, the comments section is open. See you in two weeks!

Trailer Review: Ghosts of Girlfriends Past

Paul Clark — Wed, 25 Mar 2009 16:00:00 GMT

Normally, when I write up my Trailer Reviews, I try to look past the movie’s premises and instead examine the style and performances based on the evidence I see in the trailers. However, sometimes it’s difficult to do so, and such is the case with a trailer like Ghosts of Girlfriends Past. I suppose that what rubs me wrong about this trailer-and by extension the movie itself- is the way the protagonist, a committed bachelor played by Matthew McConaughey, is revealed to be a romantic whose heart belongs to one woman. Having known more than a few bachelors, my experience that taught me that stories like this tend to be pure fantasy. Men who sleep with an endless parade of women don’t usually do so because they’re waiting for the right one to emerge- more often than not they do it to assert their masculinity by pursuing women as conquests. Deep down, they like single life, and while they might go after some women harder than others, it’s due less to a romantic longing than a primal hunter-gatherer’s urge to “land the big fish.” Perhaps that’s why the filmmakers had to resort to cribbing the plot structure from Dickens (and enlisting former ladies’ man Michael Douglas to appear as a Robert Evans-styled version of Jacob Marley)- because otherwise, nobody would buy this movie. You know what? I still don’t.

The Screengrab's 12 Days of Christmas Marathon: "The Muppet Christmas Carol"

Leonard Pierce — Tue, 23 Dec 2008 21:30:00 GMT

Alert readers may recall that, while I'm posting the reviews of the Screengrab's 12 Days of Christmas Marathon movies in dribs and drabs over the days leading up to Christmas, I actually watched them all in sequence over the space of two days in a bleary haze of rum-soaked egg nog and seasonal affective disorder. I had a highly formalized plan for which movie to watch in which particular order, but I drunkenly knocked over my stack of DVDs after the fifth movie, and then I just watched them in the order in which they fell on the living room floor. I was hoping that it would be late in the day by the time I had to get around to watching some variation of A Christmas Carol -- I find the irascible-old-bastard Scrooge largely preferable to the lover-of-all-humanity Scrooge -- but here's where it turned up, so you're going to have to read about it.

My own misanthropy aside, it's not surprising that Charles Dickens' 1843 novella A Christmas Carol in Prose, Being a Ghost Story of Christmas has become one of the most beloved holiday stories of all time. It's got a little bit of something for everyone: a sincere, adorable crippled boy, for treacle fans; a handful of truly memorable characters; abundant humor, some of it rather more mordant than one might expect; a creepy ghost story; and, best of all, a central plot that appeals to lovers of Christmas everywhere: a cranky old jerk who hates Christmas has, after a series of flashbacks and flash-forwards, a legendary change of heart and embraces the holiday in full, becoming the very embodiment of the spirit of giving and showering those poor souls he previously spurned with largesse.

Dickens write A Christmas Carol for the same reason he wrote a lot of his most famous work: for a paycheck. But it ended up having a much more vast impact on our entire culture than its author possibly imagined. One of the most widely-read stories of the English canon, its familiar story and infinitely flexible formal structure have led it to become one of the most widely-adapted stories as well. The number of stage plays, movies and very-special-episode television series based on the story are probably uncountable; as long as there is economic injustice, as long as there are lazy scriptwriters in love with the flashback gimmick; as long as there are cranky old jerks who, justfiably or not, aren't as into the holidays as the rest of us, there will continue to be new movie and TV versions of A Christmas Carol.

Just to mix things up a bit, I chose as my preferred adaptation this time around the 1992 felt-puppet version of Dickens' classic. Made just after Muppet maven Jim Henson died, it didn't do that well on its initial release, but gained something of a cult following on home video. There's plenty of inside jokes and a clever framing device of the story being narrated by Dickens himself (played by the Great Gonzo) and a comic foil in the form of Rizzo the Rat; the story is surprisingly faithful to the original; the casting of balcony naysayers Statler and Waldorf as Jacob Marley and -- ho, ho -- his brother Robert is inspired and leads to the movie's best musical number; and best of all, Michael Caine as Ebenezer Scrooge proves that, just as he can turn in a great performance in a bad movie, he can be intensely human and affecting while acting opposite a stuffed bag of felt.

You'd be forgiven, naturally, if you chose a different movie version of A Christmas Carol as your favorite; there's enough good ones to make a 12 days of Christmas marathon of nothing but this particular story. The 'canonical' version is probably the 1951 British adaptation Scrooge, carried on the strength of an unforgettable lead performance by the wonderful Alastair Sim, but there's also the 1970 Albert Finney version, a 1935 adptation starring Leo G. Carroll, the George C. Scott-as-Scrooge TV movie from 1984, a 1999 television adaptation with slices of thick British ham from Patrick Stewart, Joel Grey and Richard E. Grant, Henry Winkler's An American Christmas Carol, Bill Murray's post-ironic 1988 adaptation Scrooged, and animated versions starring Mr. Magoo, the Flintstones, and a bunch of talking dogs that all have their fans.

12 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS RATING: An enjoyable 9 Muppet ladies dancing. This isn't the best Muppet movie, but it isn't the worst, and its relentless charm is hard to resist. Henson's son Brian and Steve Whitmore do a solid if uninspired job of carrying on the Muppet tradition, and there's the usual blend of kid-friendly shenanigans and clever jokes and references for the grown-ups. Caine's performance as Scrooge, though, is what really steals the show.

The Screengrab's 12 Days of Christmas Marathon: The Star Wars Holiday Special

Yesterday's Hits: The Santa Clause (1994, John Pasquin)

Paul Clark — Tue, 09 Dec 2008 20:00:00 GMT

Well, it’s the holidays again, and that means that Christmas movies are back in season. But while Christmas movies have long been an annual tradition, in the last few decades the market for new holiday-themed classics has grown by leaps and bounds. Gone are the days when scruffy little movies like A Christmas Story would do decent business in theatres only to become classics on video and cable. Today, Christmas movies are big business, and rare is the big budget holiday movie that doesn’t clean up at the box office. For my next three Yesterday’s Hits columns, I’ll be taking a new look at three of the biggest holiday hits of all time, to get you all in the spirit of the season. This week, I’ll begin with the 1994 blockbuster The Santa Clause.

The Santa Clause came after nearly a decade of Christmas movies that shied away from dealing with Santa Claus. While this might seem odd nowadays, there was a good reason for this at the time- 1985’s Santa Claus: The Movie was a massive flop, scaring the studios into making less fantasy-based holiday movies in the years to come. But by the mid-1990s, Disney decided it was time to bring back the jolly old elf, and The Santa Clause served up St. Nick with a twist on the old tale. After several established movie stars (Bill Murray and Chevy Chase, to name two) turned down the role, Disney turned to the star of the hugely popular sitcom Home Improvement, a former standup comedian named Tim Allen. The combination of Christmas and Allen’s big-screen leading man debut proved as irresistible to audiences as milk and cookies, and The Santa Clause became the biggest hit of fall 1994, spawning two sequels and propelling Allen to movie stardom.

The premise of the film certainly helped. Rather than beginning with its main character born as Santa, The Santa Clause took the novel approach of having its protagonist Scott Calvin (played by Allen) more or less inherit the job. In the film, if something happens to the current Santa, the next person to don the suit takes his place, with all of the side effects that implies. The Santa Clause’s best sequence takes place right after Scott finds himself thrust into the role of Kris Kringle, when we discover through his eyes the perils of the job- snarling dogs, home security systems, gifts that are too big to fit under the tree. And while Scott predictably finds himself turning physically into Santa, gaining 45 pounds in a week and growing a long white beard in a matter of minutes, the sight gags are fairly enjoyable nonetheless.

Unfortunately, the rest of the movie isn’t as much fun as the Santa material. Scott’s life in the temperate latitudes includes a well-paying job as a toy company executive and an ex-wife Laura (Wendy Crewson), with whom he shares custody of their young son Charlie (Eric Lloyd). Naturally, Charlie is jazzed about his dad being Santa, but of course none of the other adults believe his stories of when they visited the North Pole and went around delivering gifts. Laura’s new husband Neil (Judge Reinhold) just happens to be a psychiatrist, and he quickly concludes that Charlie is having trouble distinguishing between reality and fantasy, and that Scott with his physical changes is feeding his son’s delusions in order to look better in Charlie’s eyes. The resulting plot developments are too contrived to be effective, and they’re exacerbated by Reinhold’s awful performance, in which he comes off less as a competent doctor than someone who’s suffered a recent blow to the head.

Ever since Charles Dickens penned A Christmas Carol more than 160 years ago, there has been a fairly standard trajectory for Christmas stories and, later, Christmas movies- a character, or group of characters, overcome their self-centered ways by discovering the meaning of Christmas. Even Bad Santa’s Willie, the most dissolute of recent Christmas movie protagonists, ended up finding some member of the Christmas spirit through his unlikely mentorship of a (very strange) kid. The Santa Clause was directed by John Pasquin, who had previously worked with Allen when he directed numerous episodes of Home Improvement, and the movie feels and looks like a big-screen sitcom, with some easy laughs and nothing offensive to scare away audiences. Like most Christmas movies, it’s an okay way to take a break from holiday shopping or entertain visiting relatives. But as a movie, it’s really nothing special.

When Good Directors Go Bad?: Great Expectations (1998, Alfonso Cuaron)

Paul Clark — Tue, 04 Nov 2008 20:00:00 GMT

Since making his feature debut with 1991’s Solo con tu pareja, Alfonso Cuaron has become one of the world’s most acclaimed and distinctive filmmakers. That he has managed to do this is a credit not only to his talent but also his versatility. With a scant six features under his belt, he has managed to makes films both large and small, both light and dark, and in both English and Spanish. His breakthrough film A Little Princess is a lovely and underseen family film, and his instinctive feel for family-friendly entertainment helped him immeasurably on Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, seen by many as the best big-screen Potter adventure to date. In between, he’s also managed to transcend the teenage sex film into transcendent cinema in Y Tu Mama Tambien, and crafted one of the most unique dystopian visions of the cinema in Children of Men.

But in the evaluation of Cuaron’s career to date, one film has gotten lost in the shuffle- 1998’s Great Expectations. A loose, lushly-mounted update of Charles Dickens’ classic novel, the film was released in 1998 in the dog days of February, in the wake of the Titanic juggernaut. Reviews were middling, and audience response was unenthusiastic. In the eyes of many Hollywood insiders, the project that should have been a stepping stone to Cuaron’s future as a big-name Hollywood filmmaker became a stumbling block that sent him tumbling back to Mexico to make his subsequent film. But while there’s no denying that the perception of Great Expectations didn’t help Cuaron’s career, the real question is here more simple- is the movie any good?

Having watched the film recently, I would maintain that it is, and certainly better than its reputation would suggest. That said, it’s hardly perfect. A number of critics took the film to task for being insufficiently faithful to Dickens, and certainly, Great Expectations didn’t benefit from being one of a rash of loose “re-imaginings” of classic novels that were in vogue during the mid- to late-nineties. But I found that the contemporary trappings suited the original story pretty well. More distracting was the way the screenplay, written by Mitch Glazer, pared down Dickens’ story to focus almost entirely on the relationship between Pip (now named Finn and played by Ethan Hawke) and Estella (Gwyneth Paltrow). In doing so, Glazer sketches over much of what makes the book really interesting, that story of a man who is carried along by destiny from one fascinating situation to another guided by two benefactors, one known to him (Miss Havisham), the other unseen. As a result, Great Expectations lacks much of the narrative interest that the novel had.

But if Cuaron’s film largely fails as Dickens, there’s plenty of other aspects to the film to enjoy. The majority of Dickens adaptations for film and television have emphasized the squalor and hardscrabble lifestyle of the period in which he wrote, but Cuaron’s style infuses the story with liberal amounts of magic realism, and the two are a surprisingly good fit. It helps that the film is set in two locations in the U.S. that are best suited for magic realism- the Gulf Coast of Florida (with its swamps and vegetation and distinctly Hispanic influence) and New York City. Look at the decaying manse of the film’s Miss Havisham character, here called Ms. Dinsmoor and played by Anne Bancroft. The home itself is based on the Alhambra in Spain, but everything is falling apart and overgrown, and the wedding party, still set out after three decades, is made all the more eerie by the Spanish moss that’s hanging from the trees. And the film’s version of New York is a city full of mysterious settings and endless possibilities, and Cuaron and regular cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki make good use of the weather to reflect the tone of the film, with the sun shining warmly when Finn is content, and rain pouring or leaves falling when his emotional state has become tumultuous.

Likewise, the film is ideally cast to suit Cuaron’s style. At first glance, Ethan Hawke seems too lightweight to work in the lead role, and certainly to intone the wholly gratuitous narration. But consider that Dickens’ main characters usually tended to be observers through whom the reader could experience the adventures of the story, so in this way the casting makes perfect sense. Gwyneth Paltrow makes a perfectly fine Estella, pulling off both the coldness that results from her upbringing by Ms. Dinsmoor and the sadness that she’s ill-equipped to love Finn because of this. Anne Bancroft, always a marvelous ham, digs into the role of Ms. Dinsmoor with plenty of relish, and no small amount of wit (listen to her response when young Finn asks about her cat). Chris Cooper is affecting as Finn’s Uncle Joe, who for the boy only to be cast aside when Finn became a famous artist. And Robert DeNiro gives perhaps his last great performance in the small role of the prisoner Joe (Magwitch in the book), successfully playing the frightening prisoner early on, only to turn up again years later as a shadowy, eccentric figure in the hero’s life.

On balance, Great Expectations is fairly flawed but ultimately a worthwhile film. As narrative, it’s sometimes less than compelling, and it certainly isn’t successful as an adaptation. But it’s so visually enchanting and full of vivid supporting characters that it hardly matters. The film’s failings are those of the script and of the studio who tried to make the film more palatable to mainstream sensibilities (which explains the narration), while the stuff that works is almost entirely Cuaron’s. Despite its reputation, Great Expectations is an interesting entry on Cuaron’s filmography, and one that bears a second look in light of his more recent work. I suspect time will be kind to it.

David Lean's Centennial

Phil Nugent — Thu, 27 Mar 2008 15:00:00 GMT

This week marks the one hundredth birthday of the late director David Lean. As Anthony Lane notes in The New Yorker, Lean is best remembered now as Mr. Spectacle for the epics he turned out in the last decades of his career (Lawrence of Arabia, Dr. Zhivago, A Passage to India), but the onetime editor had earlier made his mark with a string of tight, emotionally compressed entertainments, including his terrific Dickens adaptations (Great Expectations and Oliver Twist) and a number of works derived from the writings of Noel Coward, who actually served as co-director of Lean's first job behind the camera, the 1942 In Which We Serve. They made for an intriguing team, with Coward's stylish reserve — the glorifying embodiment of the cliche of the "British stiff upper lip" — sometimes pressing against Lean's own show of restraint, which could seem prudish but which also sometimes felt as if it were barely keeping a lid on the rush of feelings that his work had flowing through it. As Lane points out, the definitive expression of this tension is their final collaboration, the 1945 Brief Encounter: "Its main event is what never happens: Laura (Celia Johnson), a married woman, does not have an affair with Alec (Trevor Howard), a married man, despite their being ardently in love. The film has been a favorite, almost a fetish, among British audiences ever since. This year, on Valentine’s Day, it was screened outside the National Theatre, in London, so that young lovers could sit in the cold, huddle together, and learn just how incredibly miserable the business of love can be. What other country would subscribe to this? The saga of thwartings is played out in the pleasure domes of suburbia: railway stations, luncheon tables, and boating lakes. For Lean, the humdrum was drenched in emotion... The couple first meet at a station and, unbearably, part there for the last time, with Alec’s hand resting briefly on Laura’s shoulder in the refreshment room. They have measured out their love in coffee spoons."

The station where the key romantic moments of Brief Encounter were shot is still there, and Kathryn Flett reports that she "took the opportunity to celebrate... with a visit to Carnforth railway station's refreshment room, ideally for a nice cup of tea and a Banbury, but not ruling out the possibility of getting some grit in my eye and having it removed by a kindly doctor who might just be the love of my life." She discovered that "There is now something of a Brief Encounter mini-industry at Carnforth, what with the famous clock, the visitors' centre and the delightful refreshment room — a replica of the set, which was itself a copy of the original." The tea room is managed by Andrew Coates and Helen Dytham, who didn't know about it place in film history when they first made the site's acquaintance; Coates hadn't even heard of the movie before. "They are up to speed now," writes Flett, reassuringly.

That Gal!: Miriam Margolyes

Peter Smith — Wed, 05 Dec 2007 21:00:00 GMT

If Miriam Margolyes had never appeared in a single film, she would still have a special place in the history of British television. While attending Oxford University, she appeared on the game show University Challenge, and, after getting a question wrong during a live broadcast, had the dubious distinction of being the first person to say "fuck" on the British airwaves. Luckily for filmgoers, though, she didn't let the shame destroy her career, and has gone on to become one of the most sought-after character actresses in the English film industry. A veteran of a number of television gigs, like former That Gal! Natasha Richardson, she was a regular on The Black Adder (including a memorable portrayal of Queen Victoria), but it's on film where she's shone the brightest. The diminutive Margolyes stands only five feet tall, and doesn't have the toned body that would have made her a superstar, but her forceful personality, distinctively pitched voice (she was Fly the Sheepdog in the Babe films), and great versatility have secured her a place in British cinema history in a number of roles that it's hard to imagine anyone else doing. Equally at home with drama or comedy, and able to convey unladylike, rip-snorting hilarity with as much ease as she can towering rage or deep sympathy, the openly lesbian Margolyes got her start in theatre and is frequently cited by the gay press in the U.K. as one of the country's most prominent 'out' personalities. She's enjoyed success on both sides of the Atlantic among critics, even if her name isn't on the tip of every casting director's tongue; she's won Best Supporting Actress awards from both BAFTA and the Los Angeles Critics Circle. And while the public may not immediately be able to recall her name, her face, with its tight mouth and bulging eyes, is immediately memorable to everyone who sees her. Recently, Margolyes has announced her decision to become an Australian citizen; if she goes through with it, England will lose one its most talented actresses.

Where to see Miriam Margolyes at her best:

LITTLE DORRIT (1988)

Miriam Margolyes had already been acting for over twenty years, and making movies for a dozen, when Christine Edzard cast her as Flora Finching in her film adaptation of this Charles Dickens novel. It turned out to be her breakthrough role; she stole every scene she was in and won a Best Supporting Actress award from the L.A. Critics Circle. The part has stayed with her; she's currently touring in a one-woman show called Dickens' Women in which Flora has pride of place.

THE AGE OF INNOCENCE (1993)

When Martin Scorsese gave Margolyes the role of Mrs. Mingott in his Edith Wharton adaptation, she was fifty-two years old — the age at which an actress who'd worked as hard as she had should start to get the recognition she deserved. And as the sole comic character in the rather grim drama of manners, she finally did: it won her wide acclaim in the United States for the first time in her career, and back home, it netted her a Best Supporting Actress honor from BAFTA. Her terrific performance in The Age of Innocence signaled a career renaissance.

HARRY POTTER AND THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS (2002)

It's hardly the best of the Harry Potter films, but any role in the blockbuster franchise is a healthy paycheck, and Margoyles certainly deserved one when she took on the role of Hogwarts herbologist Prof. Pomona Sprout. It would have been easy enough to just cash the check and sleepwalk through the part, but Margoyles, as she does with her best comic roles, sinks her teeth into it, getting the most mileage she can out of every moment she's on screen as the dowdy witch.

— Leonard Pierce