Far From the Madding Crowd

Far From the Madding Crowd, the three-hour, full color, Cinerama epic that opened here last week, was, believe it or not, made by the same production team that turned out Darling two years ago. Producer Joseph Janni, director John Schlesinger, and screenwriter Frederic Raphael marked Darling--in black-and-white--with an economy of action, quick cuts, and some deft, telling punches at society's flabby midsection. The film was also marked by Julie Christie.

And in the new movie, despite the color, despite the 27-foot screen that now wraps Miss Christie around you, ear to ear, the same production team has again turned out a film conspicuous for its economy of movement and quick cuts. The punches are missing; instead an England that existed 100 years ago is visually celebrated in sharp, brilliant color and a few long, sumptuous pans.

Presumably, Schlesinger and Raphael intended to get as far away from Darling as possible in choosing to translate the Thomas Hardy novel to the screen. Hardy's tale of Bathsheba Everdene and her headstrong affair with the no-good Sgt. Troy is set an exact 100 years before Darling. In both films, Miss Christie does wend her way through several men. But in Darling, she was consciously presented as amoral. In the new film, Miss Christie is highly moral, rejecting two suitors because she doesn't love them, foolishly rushing into marriage with the dashing Troy (Terence Stamp), yet apologizing for it a day later, realizing he's rotten but unable to break his hold.

No one can accuse Raphael of being unfaithful to Hardy's original. He has moved virtually every incident of the novel into his script. But in doing so, he, with Schlesinger's twitchy camera, have served up more plot than the film's skimpy characterization can plaster together. Perhaps as a unification device, Schlesinger again hauls out his Darling trick of beginning the dialogue of the next scene while still presenting a first one. No scene is presented at any great length, except the the key one in which Stamp wins Miss Christie with a flashing display of sword exercises on a sweeping Dorset Hill.

Stamp's character is even more complex than Miss Christie's, vet is explained as little as hers. After the death, in childbirth, of the girl who had been his mistress, Stamp leaves Miss Christie and presumably drowns himself. He comes back, however, in a carnival Miss Christie attends and manages through elaborate efforts to keep her from recognizing hem. Why, then, does he return to her home to claim her in the next next scene? The fault is not Stamp's. He plays his part well, with touches of malice and touches of humanity, but with the script.

Alan Bates, as the simple farmer, Gabriel Oak, and Peter Finch, as the wealthy farmer, William Boldwood, come off better because their characters are not intended to be complex. They serve principally as foils--constants throughout the film off whom the relationship between Miss Christie and Stamp can bounce. Bates, in particular, has landed a strong, sympathetic part, and his ultimate triumph is quite satisfying.

What is different from Darling here are the "big" scenes, that any Cimerama film must have to be worth the medium. These are handled well, particularly when Bates, in a howling storm, tries single-handedly to tie down a series of giant hay ricks. Schlesinger's camera darts and jabs through the scene much like the lightning crashing around Bates' head.

If Far From the Madding Crowd is cinematic melodrama, then Schlesinger makes the most of it. It's a worth-while evening--and do plan an entire evening for it--that's even worth the rather stiff prices, which apparently are being offered in Cinerama too.