home
***
CD-ROM
|
disk
|
FTP
|
other
***
search
/
TIME: Almanac 1990
/
1990 Time Magazine Compact Almanac, The (1991)(Time).iso
/
time
/
caps
/
87
/
87capts.6
< prev
next >
Wrap
Text File
|
1990-10-19
|
6KB
|
124 lines
Cinema
Huston's Serene Farewell
January 4, 1988
THE DEAD Directed by John Huston; Screenplay by Tony Huston
The young James Joyce wrote The Dead in some disillusionment. It was
the last story of Dubliners, a group of tales setting forth the
cramped spirit of the middle-class Ireland from which he had exiled
himself even before the book was published.
The aged John Huston filmed The Dead--the last of his 37 features--in
great serenity, just before he died last summer. In it he set forth
his affection for the writer he said he loved best and,
paradoxically, for the Ireland to which he exiled himself for the
midpassage of a life that was, in its way, as restless and
troublesome as Joyce's.
On the feast of the Epiphany, Jan. 6, 1904, some old friends
gathered, as they have for many years on this day, at the home of two
elderly sisters for dancing and supper. They sing songs and make
speeches. They quarrel about the opera and worry about the
drunkenness of one man while not noticing that another is getting
quietly blotto. It's every awful party we have ever attended, and
Huston is wonderfully ambiguous about it: affectionate toward the
hospitable impulses at work here, slyly satirical about the clumsy
ways these impulses are expressed.
At the end of the party, a tenor sings an old air, The Lass of
Aughrim. This puts Gretta Conroy (Anjelica Huston) in a pensive
mood: a delicate young man she once loved, and who hastened his
death by courting her, used to sing it. In their hotel room, Gretta
tells her husband Gabriel (Donal McCann) about this lost love,
arousing an unworthy jealousy. She falls asleep, and he stares out
the window, as the snow--symbol of the universe's indifference to
petty social preoccupations and petty emotions too--falls "upon all
the living and the dead." Nature, playing no favorites, blankets
them all together.
Huston has precisely duplicated on-screen both the simple two-part
structure of Joyce's story and much of its dialogue. The old
Hollywood adventurer's mood and motives do not compromise Joyce's
vision; they tactfully illuminate it. Indeed, Huston's handling of
this material is so direct, artless and unassertive that one's first
enthusiasm for it is tempered by doubt. Perhaps our desire that his
last movie represent the best of his several selves is coloring our
reaction. Mistrust, however, must yield to Huston's trust of his
medium, his material and himself.
He was working in very tight spaces here, but they never make him
claustrophobic. His camera is like a calm, courtly stranger at this
revel, quietly accepting its physical restraints, determined to make
the best of its intimacy with a marvelous ensemble of actors. They,
in turn, are charmingly unpretentious as they reveal the humanity
beneath their unpromising surfaces.
When the celebration of Epiphany gives way to the Joycean epiphany of
Gabriel's concluding thoughts, Huston yields the screen to his
beloved master in a wonderfully self-effacing way. The powerful
words are voiced over the simplest imaginable montage of Irish
snowscapes. Huston's great contribution is only this: he gently
imparted to his film an old man's tolerance for human frailty,
thereby tempering a young man's impatience with it.
It is quite enough. With this graceful Dead, Huston served his
source generously and himself handsomely, contriving what few in film
have managed: a sublimely moving exit.
--By Richard Schickel
---------------------------------------------------------
BEST OF '87
BROADCAST NEWS In James L. Brooks' wickedly nice comedy, the devil
(William Hurt) is an anchorman, and a charming one too. Holly Hunter
and Albert Brooks shine in this delectable All About Eve for the
infotainment age.
EMPIRE OF THE SUN A boy loses his parents and becomes a man:
corrupt, scheming, desperate to survive at any cost. This is a
Steven Spielberg movie? Yes: an anti-E.T., and his most mature,
beautifully crafted fable about childhood.
GOOD MORNING, VIETNAM In Saigon, 1965, the war sneaks up on Disk
Jockey Robin Williams, darkening and then silencing his mad-lib
monologues. This high comedy from Director Barry Levinson is 1987's
deftest evocation of Viet Nam's surrealism.
INNERSPACE Sci-fi satires may finally be B.O. poison, but Director
Joe Dante knows how to send the genre out (and up) in a blaze of
tangled plots, visual bravura and comic-book savvy.
JEAN DE FLORETTE and MANON OF THE SPRING Forget Wall Street. For a
really savage study of greed and relentless connivance, see Claude
Berri's double-decker movie. His tale of fate-haunted French
peasants is also that movie rarity: tragedy on the grand and classic
scale.
THE PRINCESS BRIDE Like Broadway's Into the Woods, William Goldman's
script throws an open-house party for fairy-tale heroes, villains and
a beyond-gorgeous princes (Robin Wright). Revisionist fun for the
whole family.
RADIO DAYS Wood Allen recalls the power of a mass medium and a messy
family in shaping a child's imagination. This memory play is also a
rueful reflection on the ways time's passage both diminishes and
enhances that power.
RAISING ARIZONA Nathan Arizona Jr., that is--the infant kidnaped by
a young couple who are aching to be parents. In this wonderfully
bizarre romantic comedy, Auteurs Joel and Ethan Coen prove themselves
Young Hollywood's last best hope.
TAMPOPO An Eastern western: the cowboy is a truck-driver, his
homestead is a Japanese noodle restaurant. Writer-Director Juzo
Itami offers a free-range meditation on how gourmet fads deliriously
distort man's second favorite drive.
THE UNTOUCHABLES Director Brian De Palma and Writer David Mamet
reimagine the gangster epic and create a witty, bloody, touching
commentary on two vanished traditions: Hollywood dreammaking and
American innocence.