The Golden Bowl by James Ivory

Can someone tell Merchant and Ivory that they should probably just leave Henry James alone and head straight to some Virago classics instead? Everyone knows Henry James is cerebral, all about tone and thoughts and no real plot or action. As a film you lose 80% of what is enjoyable about his books (and I'm even the only person I know who enjoys his books). There are much better cinematic stories told in the same vein by lesser known female authors. Gimme some Kate O'Brien, some Elisabeth Bowen, back to Edith Wharton, or hey, why not film some Mavis Gallant?

The Golden Bowl tells the story of two fortune hunters who latch on to a wealthy father and daughter. Man marries the daughter, woman marries the father and then they dance around carrying on their old affair with their new spouses and newfound wealth at stake. Uma Thurman takes the character of the female fortune hunter and somehow strips her of all her noble, loving goals. Instead she spends most of the film making bedroom eyes at her step-son, who unrealistically is busy saying Å’no, no, I mustn't', even though he is supposed to be this hot-blooded Italian. And why don't we have a hot-blooded Italian playing this role, btw? Instead of the reserved Jeremy Northam? And do we really feel like being sorry for this billionaire and his childlike daughter because they got cheated? I had nowhere to place my sympathies. There was, no doubt, some social critique that Uma Thurman was supposed to explain to us, but she was so intent on her sex life that she became quite one dimensional. Difficult book, slow, confused film.

www.thegoldenbowl.com

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