The Age of Broken Promises

"The Age of Innocence" isn't a really good movie, nor is it a really bad movie. But it's also not a really mediocre movie. It's either a really good movie flawed by bizarre cinematographic antics, wooden acting and a horrendous voice-over, or a really bad movie partially salvaged by charming period images and a touching plot. In either case, Martine Scorsese's adaptation of Edith Wharton's novel of manners gives you, if not a run for your money, at least an elegant trot.

Set in late-19th century New York, "The Age of Innocence" tells the tale of the reintroduction of the Countess Olenska (played by Michelle Pfeiffer, with a shocking perm) to New York high society, after a decades-long sojourn in Europe with her husband. The Countess has made a bad marriage and is now returned to the bosoms of her former associates sans Count and hoping to divorce, which casts her as a fallen woman in the eyes of this morally puritanical--though decadent--crowd. Newland Archer (played by a stalwart yet at times wistful Daniel Day-Lewis), the intellectually curious scion of a respected family, is one of the few willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

Predictably enough, Newland ends up giving the liberal countess a lot more than just the benefit of the doubt. Unfortunately, he's engaged--and to Winona Ryder, no less! Winona plays the idiotic but socially savvy May Welland (a huge come-down from her kicky roles in "Heathers," "Beetle-juice," and "Edward Scissorshands").

It's a promising, if not extraordinary, story line, and might have lent itself to lots of exciting intrigue and seduction a la "Dangerous Liaisons." Martin is trying hard to make a respectable and literary film, but the result is too plodding to sustain any dramatic tension. The denouement is obvious from the first scenes, when Newland sees the Countess at the opera. The Countess reminds Newland that as a child he had tried to kiss her behind a door: more kisses to come, one understands. Then at the post-opera ball Newland hurries to announce his engagement to May, so as to detract attention from the newly arrived Countess and her questionable past: this man will never throw reponsibility and convention to the winds for the passions of the heart, one realizes.

Perhaps the most exciting moments of the movie come in the final scene, when many years later, as a kind of epilogue, the much-aged Newland and his grown-up son travel to Paris, and have a date to take tea with the Countess. Having been treated to Newland's grayed locks and liver-spotted face, one is absolutely dying to see how the Countess has held up under the weight of the years. One is foiled. Thus it is throughout: the film continually promises high drama, but high drama consistently fails to materialize.

Much of the fault lies with the principal actors. Although it is of course unpleasant to criticize Daniel, Michelle or Winona, it is this reviewer's loathsome task to report that none of them is anything to write home about. Their characters are predictable and devoid of development. Certainly, they portray individuals locked into position by tight-laced mores. However, since the movie purports to examine or question the hegemony of these mores, one could reasonably expect more than Daniel's impotent teeth-grinding, Michelle's little huffs and puffs while deep kissing, and Winona's starry-eyed smiles. On the other hand, they are always perfectly dressed and accessorized. One goes positively faint with joy at the heady expanses of Michelle's and Winona's palatial gowns.

If the acting is a bit sketchy, its flaws pale in comparison with those of the camera work. What could Martin have been thinking? One despairs of him. His goal seems to have been to cause the viewer headache instead of render a harmonious picture of 19th-century society, for the camera darts about in a peripatetic ad nauseum of rapid-fire montage as if it were affixed to the neck of a hummingbird. Again and again, its strategy is to alight on one item after another--a glove, a calling card, a painting, a bauble--until it seems that Martin is just showing off his assemblage of period pieces. What's more, color is splashed onto the screen willy-nilly and fade-ins and fade-outs occur with little respect for the coherence of the movie. The cinematography is simply too hyperkinetic for this sedate tale of moneyed repression.

It's the voice-over, though, that shows Martin needs some kindly but firm advice. Throughout the movie, sections from the novel are narrated to explain the images appearing on-screen, but instead serve to detract from them. Martin doubted either his ability to illustrate the plot, or the viewer's ability to understand it solely through images and dialogue. Since one can hardly believe that Martin would insult one's intelligence, one must question his faith in his own ability. One wishes that this were not the case.

However, "The Age of Innocence" cannot be dismissed as an insipid and painfully melancholy "serious film." For one thing, the sets and costumes are deliciously ornate. Granted, lush visual pleasures are an easy way out for any period film. This one is no exception, but the production displays an attention to detail that cannot fail to please. Some of the mealtime vignettes leave one salivating, and there is a beautiful street scene of a crowd of men in bowlers walking against the wind.

These evocative images are hard to resist, especially when combined with the poignancy and tragic romance of the story line. One cannot avoid a bittersweet sign during crucial scenes; there is nothing so rejuvenating as the spectacle of other peoples' broken lives and failed loves.