Post by stephen on Apr 18, 2019 14:46:13 GMT
It seems an almost ridiculous concept to build a film upon: the assembly of the Oxford English Dictionary. Two men, both brilliant and both seen as mad by their peers (one legally so), take on one of the most daunting challenges in academic history in attempting to compile a thorough documentation of every word in the English language. One would expect it to be a stuffy affair, but Farhad Safinia—sorry, P.B. Shemran—’s film is a surprisingly engrossing saga. The usage of Mel Gibson and Sean Penn, two actors who embody the very concept of “intensity”, certainly keeps it from being your typical costume drama . . . for better or worse.
One would assume Gibson, with his history of playing unhinged characters (as well as his own offscreen antics which hint at more than a twinge of instability), would be playing the film’s titular madman. Instead, he has deigned to tackle the role of Murray, who is possessed of madness of a different sort. The task before him is a mammoth one, scoffed by many to be a fool’s errand. Yet his Dr. James Murray is driven to this herculean labor with gleeful ambition and an earnestness that, frankly, only Mad Mel can really pull off. You look at Gibson, hidden behind a shock of beard with that devilish twinkle in his eye, and can see the makings of a terrific Ahab—but of an erudite nature. While Murray’s a much more low-key figure than his counterpart, he is no less compelling.
Penn, an actor whose flirtations with intensity have been much more mixed in my book, is nevertheless given a rather plum role to exercise (or exorcise?) some of his more outre tendencies. Dr. Charles Minor is a singularly outsized character that is incredibly tricky for any actor to pull off. For Penn’s part, he affects a gravelly (period-appropriate?) accent and is prone to thunderous outbursts at jagged intervals. It’s a performance that can most certainly alienate the viewer, but personally speaking I think that he more or less acquits himself well. I think that my issues with the performance lie mainly in how the character is treated, with Dr. Minor being at times near-catatonic with PTSD and other times near-apoplectic with insanity, at times in the course of the same scene, but such a swerve is tough for anyone to pull off naturally.
The supporting ensemble behind them is pretty top-notch, even if they are somewhat let down by the writing—or, at least, by the format of the film itself. There are three or four diverging storylines in The Professor and the Madman, each of which could sustain its own film. Jennifer Ehle fosters a pretty good rapport with Gibson as Murray’s long-suffering wife, and there are the kernels of a strong domestic drama to be found here . . . but when the film also deals with a schizophrenic lexophile, there obviously are casualties to be had, and Ehle’s character suffers the worst of it. There’s also Natalie Dormer in a surprisingly strong turn as an Eliza Doolittle-esque single mother (named Eliza, no less!) whose relationship with Dr. Minor is peculiar but still intriguing. There are the efforts of asylum chief Richard Brayn (Stephen Dillane) who seeks to aid the sufferings of his patients, including Minor, and the film’s portrayal of his psych ward is a far cry from the Dickensian bedlam usually depicted. And then there are the scheming machinations of Murray’s rivals and cohorts, which is given perhaps the least shrift of all despite being the most crucial roadblock of their efforts. This is a story deserving of the miniseries treatment, as in its current cinematic state it feels overstuffed to the point of Mr. Creosote-esque explosion. (It also doesn't help that the film's depiction of the passage of time isn't quite as delineating as one would hope; only by charting the progression of Sean Penn's hairstyles can one discern how many years have gone by, as hardly anyone else seems to age in the movie.)
But what we do have laid out on the screen is still pretty damn well-made. The performances are good, some great. The direction is unobtrusive, the camerawork evocative. The score has moments where it lays it on a bit thick, but the music is still quite pleasant despite that. Overall, I think that The Professor and the Madman is undone by its own ambition, but for the most part it comes within striking distance of being a legitimately good movie.
One would assume Gibson, with his history of playing unhinged characters (as well as his own offscreen antics which hint at more than a twinge of instability), would be playing the film’s titular madman. Instead, he has deigned to tackle the role of Murray, who is possessed of madness of a different sort. The task before him is a mammoth one, scoffed by many to be a fool’s errand. Yet his Dr. James Murray is driven to this herculean labor with gleeful ambition and an earnestness that, frankly, only Mad Mel can really pull off. You look at Gibson, hidden behind a shock of beard with that devilish twinkle in his eye, and can see the makings of a terrific Ahab—but of an erudite nature. While Murray’s a much more low-key figure than his counterpart, he is no less compelling.
Penn, an actor whose flirtations with intensity have been much more mixed in my book, is nevertheless given a rather plum role to exercise (or exorcise?) some of his more outre tendencies. Dr. Charles Minor is a singularly outsized character that is incredibly tricky for any actor to pull off. For Penn’s part, he affects a gravelly (period-appropriate?) accent and is prone to thunderous outbursts at jagged intervals. It’s a performance that can most certainly alienate the viewer, but personally speaking I think that he more or less acquits himself well. I think that my issues with the performance lie mainly in how the character is treated, with Dr. Minor being at times near-catatonic with PTSD and other times near-apoplectic with insanity, at times in the course of the same scene, but such a swerve is tough for anyone to pull off naturally.
The supporting ensemble behind them is pretty top-notch, even if they are somewhat let down by the writing—or, at least, by the format of the film itself. There are three or four diverging storylines in The Professor and the Madman, each of which could sustain its own film. Jennifer Ehle fosters a pretty good rapport with Gibson as Murray’s long-suffering wife, and there are the kernels of a strong domestic drama to be found here . . . but when the film also deals with a schizophrenic lexophile, there obviously are casualties to be had, and Ehle’s character suffers the worst of it. There’s also Natalie Dormer in a surprisingly strong turn as an Eliza Doolittle-esque single mother (named Eliza, no less!) whose relationship with Dr. Minor is peculiar but still intriguing. There are the efforts of asylum chief Richard Brayn (Stephen Dillane) who seeks to aid the sufferings of his patients, including Minor, and the film’s portrayal of his psych ward is a far cry from the Dickensian bedlam usually depicted. And then there are the scheming machinations of Murray’s rivals and cohorts, which is given perhaps the least shrift of all despite being the most crucial roadblock of their efforts. This is a story deserving of the miniseries treatment, as in its current cinematic state it feels overstuffed to the point of Mr. Creosote-esque explosion. (It also doesn't help that the film's depiction of the passage of time isn't quite as delineating as one would hope; only by charting the progression of Sean Penn's hairstyles can one discern how many years have gone by, as hardly anyone else seems to age in the movie.)
But what we do have laid out on the screen is still pretty damn well-made. The performances are good, some great. The direction is unobtrusive, the camerawork evocative. The score has moments where it lays it on a bit thick, but the music is still quite pleasant despite that. Overall, I think that The Professor and the Madman is undone by its own ambition, but for the most part it comes within striking distance of being a legitimately good movie.
