 Being There (1979) Being There is a great film on a lot of levels, intelligently written and performed brilliantly by pretty much everyone in the cast. Peter Sellers plays Chance, a gardener who has lived within the walls of his employer's estate for the entirety of his life, experiencing life through television and acquiring social skills through TV and limited interaction with "the old man" and Louise, the maid. When the old man dies, Chance is forced to leave the estate and venture out into the world for the first time, as a middle-aged man. This "Candide"-like set-up delivers what Forrest Gump might have, had that film not been so concerned with visual trickery and promoting Bob Seger. Out on the street, Chance stumbles through a series of events he doesn't understand (challenged by a gang of black street-kids, Chance takes a remote control out of his pocket and attempts to change channels, and is confused when it doesn't work), then is hit by a limousine that is driving the wife of a corporate millionaire (Shirley MacLaine, charming as ever). Taken in by the woman, Chance is mistaken for "Chauncey Gardener" and because of his polite reticence and old-fashioned mannerisms, interpreted as a gentleman of importance. Befriending her dying husband (Melvyn Douglas, who won an Oscar for his performance), Chance becomes an advisor to the President (Jack Warden, casualty of 70s cinematic overexposure) and ultimately a figure of hope for the public. Summarizing the plot this way doesn't do justice to the very dark satire of Being There, which is not limited to the idea that TV is a great influence over human behavior, nor to the concept that the American political system is run by a bunch of idiots. This isn't "Dennis Miller Live," fortunately. For all the satire going on here, the theme of the film seems to be more about human interaction and how people fill their own needs with other people's behavior rather than getting those needs filled naturally. People are needy and yet by nature not very giving, resulting in an imbalance that most people never actually rectify. Each of the characters that encounter Chance find in him a need fulfilled: Ben, the dying millionaire, finds renewal and a Zen-like acceptance of his imminent death. His wife finds in Chance a liberating sexual awakening, and the President finds a homespun simplicity that is lacking in his own political philosophy. Once Chance lands on TV, the viewing public finds a lost optimism. Through it all, the gardener remains static, relying on repetition and gardening metaphors, and he is perceived as more and more of a genius. Peter Sellers is incredibly restrained in his role, and it's hard to think of an actor better suited to play this kind of non-presence more hilariously. This was one of his last screen roles, and it is atypical of his usual style, which was a smirking blend of deadpan and slapstick—in Being There he is almost entirely non-physical, yet the performance is quintessentially Peter Sellers. The man had range; it's too bad he wasn't used in more movies like this. Probably a good thing he didn't live to make a lot of bad 80s comedies like Club Paradise and Transylvania 6-5000, 'cause you know he'd have been in those had he been around. Shirley MacLaine is smart and sexy, and gets one of the more bizarre sex scenes ever filmed … masturbating on a bear skin rug while "Chauncey" watches TV. Hilarious. The film's final image, in which Chance nonchalantly strolls out onto the surface of a pond, is as challenging a conclusion to an otherwise straightforward film as I've seen. Until that moment the film is utterly rooted in reality, its satire stemming from the believability of the situations, and then at the last minute we get this profound twist of events that means about a hundred different things at the same time. It's not a religious overtone, as much as a final statement that reality is simply what we perceive – a fitting cap to this twisty black comedy that is rooted in TV's omniscience. The presence of a bloopers reel over the credits is a bit out-of-place, although it's always funny to see Peter Sellers cracking himself up. Being There, is in many ways a forgotten classic, never really mentioned on lists of great films, and not really promoted anymore—one of those movies that no matter where you rent it, it will be a very old copy, and the clerk will wonder why you're bothering. "Well, I can't just rent Shannon Tweed movies," you stammer nervously, which only confuses matters. But it's a movie well worth the time, and ripe for rediscovery by a generation contented that Wag the Dog is a great work of satire and that Shakes the Clown is a great black comedy.
Review by La Fée |