The Horse's Mouth

The Horse's Mouth is the story of the later life of Gully Jimson: painter, pauper, genius. Taken from the novel by Joyce Cary, the film consists of a number of incidents which act as a vehicle for the character of Gully Jimson. Everything is pointed toward Jimson, everything aimed at exposing his indomitable nature. In fact Jimson is the film, and Alec Guinness, as Jimson, is magnificent.

Grizzled, sly, and a bit mad, Jimson lives in a houseboat moored in a London harbor, and continues painting on a weekly dole from his old, unbelievably frail patron. His epic visions, to be painted on the walls of living rooms, in the naves of churches, on the sides of ships never turn out exactly as he would like, yet he is incontrovertibly one of the great painters of the age. If no one else knows it, he does, and he is content to wait.

A collection of delightful minor characters slip in and out of the story as they are neded. There is an ambitious youngster, "Nosey," who "wants to be an artist," and a bitter but affectionate Irish barmaid. To this latter Jimson tries to explain his art: "Look at that figure, Cokey. Feel it with your eyes. First see the lines, then the colors..." To which she replies, "All I know, Mr. Jimson, is that no self respecting woman would let herself be painted like that." There is also a soft but deceitful matron, to whom Jimson was once married, and a Lord and his wife whose wall Jimson must have to paint his great panorama of the rising of Lazarus. He finally gets dead drunk in their living room, imports a number of oriental types whose feet he wants to paint, and, quoting lines from the omnipresent Blake, sets to work.

Whatever might be conventional in the story, Guinness makes fresh. He is successively tyrannical and repentent, modest and lecherous. Though his moods change quickly, there is always that vein of demonic, supremely British humor which is characteristic of Guinness. Yet this film has a certain scope which surpasses anything which Guinness has previously done. He couples his perceptive humor with Cary's unique character, and the result is almost monumental.

Finally Jimson, wearied by the forces of Philistinism, pulls up his anchor and sails into the Thames. He passes the side of a huge freighter, and thinking of a new vision, contorts his body like a statue of Mercury as he blocks out the imaginary lines. As Jimson passes under London Bridge, Nosey, the boy, calls out to him though he knows he will be unheard: "Michelangelo, Raphael, Picasso--you're one of them, Mr. Jimson."

And as you leave, ridiculous as it seems, you are inclined to agree.