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Lolita
**
Cinema
Releases - May 1,
1998
Rated on a 4-star
scale. USA. Directed by Adrian Lyne. Written by Stephen Schiff; based on
the novel by Vladimir Nabokov. Starring
Jeremy Irons, Dominique Swaine,
Melanie Griffith, Frank Langella.
Ignorance, some say, is bliss. That is sometimes
true, and it would have been for me, in regards to Adrian Lyne's new filming
of Vladimir Nabokov's novel "Lolita". Because I am familiar
with the novel, I know that Lyne, and possibly even his screenwriter, Stephen
Schiff, has severely misinterpreted the tone of the "Lolita" story, and their
film never quite recovers from that flaw.
If you didn't know it before the film was made,
you probably know the plot by now, because it has caused a storm of controversy.
Plenty of people, who see themselves as morally superior to the rest of us,
are calling for it to be banned. And some of them may even have seen it!
Anyway, it is the story of Humbert Humbert (Jeremy Irons)'s sexual obsession
with Lolita (Dominique Swaine), the teenage daughter of his landlady Charlotte
(Melanie Griffith). Humbert marries Charlotte to be closer to Lolita, and
when Charlotte dies, Humbert goes on a cross-country trip with Lolita, posing
as a father figure but carrying on an affair with her.
If memory serves, and that's a big 'if', since
I saw it many years ago, Stanley Kubrick's 1962 version of "Lolita" found
the right note. I recall it being intriguingly subtle, dark and ironic, chilling
and funny. Lyne's film, however, is an overwrought melodrama which I found
rather still and rather empty, compared with how exciting the book was, in
that it managed to find the perfect balance between horror (in terms of the
obviously uneasy plot, and Humbert's own guilt at his actions) and humour
(in terms of the sardonic writing style, and brilliantly satirical observations
about roadside America and its people). This "Lolita" may often be faithful
to the letter of the book, but not that spirit.
As a drama, silly as it may be to be one, "Lolita"
is well made. A disturbing heat hangs over the film as its atmosphere. It
successfully conveys an uneasy, guilty edge -- a sense, for the couple, of
impending doom, and we are distressed when Humbert cons himself that Lolita
wants his affections. But all this is to what end? Once again, the "Lolita"
story was supposed to be dark and strange, but eerily funny, not solemnly
emotional. Irons gives a convincing performance, but the kind of work he
did in "Reversal of Fortune", which was a major contributor to that film's
priceless tone, would be the appropriate approach here, and I can't understand
why Lyne didn't take advantage of Irons' ability to do that. We don't want
a tragedy about paedophilia -- we're not going to learn any lessons from
it, and in the 90s, nobody's going to want to hear about it.
Most of the film's reviews have been either like
Christopher Tookey's, extremist drivel by modern-day Puritans getting their
knickers in a twist, or ridiculously over-reacting praise, like The New York
Observer's critic, who hopes "Lolita" will sweep the Oscars. Only a few of
us have kept our heads and realised that defending a film against accusations
of immorality does not mean praising its artistic merits. That's my stance:
If you walk into this movie sane, you're not going to walk out a paedophile.
But if you walk into this movie bored or depressed, it doesn't have enough
interest, as films should, to engage you.
I would agree that Lyne is far from subtle with
this material. In the early stages of the film, for example, where we view
Humbert's obsession through unsettling close-ups of the young girl, the film
eventually goes too far, and lets the theme go on for too long. And some
of the characters, especially Clare Quilty (Frank Langella), are far too
over-the-top. The best part of the film is the cinematography, by long-time
Lyne collaborator Howard Atherton, which is among the best of the year. I
wish I could say the same of the film, but I could not get involved with
what it was trying to say -- I was too preoccupied with the fact that it
was all irrelevant.
COPYRIGHT©
1998 Ian Waldron-Mantgani
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