~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ eye WEEKLY August 13 1992 Toronto's arts newspaper .....free every Thursday ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ FILM FILM
How radical? How free? Would you believe a dozen skin-flicks' worth of nudity? John Gielgud reading every vocal part (and getting naked, too)? Oh yes, and a computer thingie called an electronic paintbox that allows Greenaway to do picture-in-picture tricks and mess with the image?
What evil alchemy be this?
For those familiar with Greenaway's anarchic universe, Prospero's Books should not come as such a shock. After a decade of iconoclastic outrages (The Draughtsman Contract, A Zed and Two Noughts, Drowning by Numbers, The Cook, the Thief, His Wife and Her Lover), the English egghead seems capable of anything. Simultaneously a formidable force and an unparalleled irritant, his films tend to be more admired than enjoyed.
Never has this been more true than with Prospero, which is wilfully inaccessible, astonishingly pompous, mesmerizing, alienating, ambitious, excessive, and frequently ridiculous. I could also add cataclysmic, barbaric, nihilistic, eclectic, reckless, overarching, overreaching, overweening, overlong, abusive, abrasive, excruciating, infuriating, and pretentious as hell.
But before this review turns into a catalogue of contradictory adjectives (serious, frivolous, profound, pornographic, intimidating, innovative, revolutionary, psychedelic, spiritual, diabolical, dazzling, foolhardy, hyperbolic, cyberphilic, technocentric), let's remember that this level of experimentation is accepted -- expected even -- on the legitimate stage. Why, then, is it such a problem in the movies?
For what the director has done to The Tempest is really no more outlandish than treatments of Shakespeare seen on alternative stages from Stratford to Murmansk. Doing it on the screen, however, immediately puts people on the defensive. Why?
At the Festival of Festival's screening last September, I have never seen so many critics fight their way into a standing-room-onlypress screening -- only to storm out long before the closing credits. I'm told walk-outs at the public screening were even more frequent.
Because of this Prospero's almost unprecedented talent for alienating audiences, it can be recommended only to the serious. Otherwise you might want to wait for the video, when you'll be able to fast-forward or snap it off when it starts to piss you off. (And believe me, it will.)
What Peter Greenaway makes are not movies, but parlor games for the over-educated. Approach Prospero's Books as entertainment and you'll probably join the lemmings heading for the exit. Approach it as an intellectual exercise, and you ... might just learn something.
Not a lot of fun, though.