Long-winded and overly theatrical cinematic adaptation
There is a clear
theatricality to all of the cinematic collaborations between Wallace Shawn and
André Gregory, most notably with the two classics directed by the former French
auteur, Louis Malle (My Dinner with Andre
[1981], Vanya on 42nd Street
[1994]). This was true of My Dinner with
Andre despite being an original concept, mostly because of the
single-location and dialogue-heavy screenplay, which featured discussion of the
art form from the two playing versions of themselves. Gregory was an
established theater director and Shawn also worked heavily in the medium as a
playwright and actor (though he was best known for playing character parts
onscreen). They then lent these talents to their own stage adaptation of Anton Chekhov’s
“Dyadya Vanya,” which became the subject of Malle’s film about a play, adapted
for the screen by David Mamet.
A Master Builder has similar
aspirations, with Shawn adapting Henrik Ibsen to the cinematic world. It didn’t
begin as a film project, however, and Shawn spent fifteen years rehearsing the
adaptation with Gregory at the helm as director. Aligning perfectly with the
“character” version of himself in My
Dinner with Andre, Gregory led the theatrical production of their Ibsen
adaptation through 15 years of rehearsals and workshops, never actually
producing a performance for the public. It wasn’t until Jonathan Demme
expressed an interest in adapting the incomplete theatrical experiment into a
film that these ideas came into full fruition with A Master Builder.
Though there are
clear parallels to the previous theatrical works done by Shawn and Gregory,
much of the film’s delivery and stylistic choices also align with Demme’s last
cinematic endeavor, Rachel Getting
Married (2008). Unfortunately, I found this film to be laborious and
stylistically unattractive, which would be my same criticism of A Master Builder. Not since Michael Mann
has a filmmaker so quickly abandoned the polished look of the Hollywood
blockbuster in favor of a more experimental style, and as I watched Demme’s
film of the Ibsen adaptation, I couldn’t help but feel it would have made a
better play than a film.
The alterations
Shawn and Gregory have made to the theater piece are intriguing, beginning with
an opening deathbed sequence that suggests much of the film is merely a
dream-like fantasy occurring in the mind of our title character, Halvard
Solness (Shawn). Though he is nearing his demise in this opening scene, soon
after that the respected architect/contractor is bustling around his home as
though nothing were wrong, with only the sound of a beeping EKG over the
soundtrack hinting at the fallacy of these sequences. Filled with the type of
philosophical discussion that padded the entire running-time of My Dinner with Andre, Solness discusses
his life and work with a mysterious young woman named Hilde (Lisa Joyce) who
suddenly appears to visit him.
There are
additional storylines, such as the resentment from Solness’ wife (Julie
Hagerty) upon the arrival of this visitor as well as other questionable
relationships the architect has with surrounding young women in his employ or
pleas from a friend (Gregory) to endorse the work of his son (Jeff Biehl)
before his own demise, but each of these narratives take place in the dream-like
walls of the hospital-like home. Focus remains on conversation rather than
action, which is why the material feels appropriate for the stage. It is more
than just the heavy dialogue and fantasy elements, however. The performances
themselves have a theatrical quality to them, which can be jarring to watch in
close-up.
Critics seem to
be at odds about the performance from theater actor Joyce, whose energy takes
over control of the narrative and is even permitted and inexplicable scene that
does not involve Solness at all. Joyce is energetic and expressive, no doubt a
joy to watch in the distancing medium of theater, but onscreen her performance
feels like a routine. Even when the dialogue is drearily weighed down by
philosophy, Joyce forces reactions to everything as though it were her
responsibility to breathe life into the words. This often comes out in the form
of forced laughter, which ends up becoming a verbal tic punctuating every line
of dialogue. There is even a sequence with Hagerty where this compulsion is
almost mocked, with both women one-upping each other with increasingly
unbelievable expulsions of cackling. Though I can understand the praise of
Joyce’s performance when viewing the movie as a filmed piece of theater, I
found her exaggerated mannerisms to be distractingly (and often irritatingly)
artificial. Perhaps this is the point of Demme’s film, but in that case, I did
not much enjoy the experience.
This
director-approved Blu-ray release contains a high-definition digital master,
supervised by director of photography Declan Quinn (Rachel Getting Married), along with a 5.1 surround DTS-HD Master
Audio soundtrack. There are three all-new special features included in the
extras; an interview with Demme, Gregory and Shawn conducted by critic David
Edelstein, a conversation between Hagerty and Joyce, and a program which
features a conversation between Gregory, Shawn and author Fran Lebowitz. How
fitting that the extras for a film filled with dialogue would be a series of
additional conversations. Also included are the film’s trailer and a foldout
insert containing an essay from film critic Michael Sragow.
Entertainment Value:
4/10
Quality of
Filmmaking: 6/10
Historical
Significance: 5/10
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