Henry Fool

I rented and watched "Henry Fool" last night and spent much of this evening tracking down reviews of this extraordinary film. I'm surprised that none of them invoked Dickens, or at least John Irving.

There's a constancy in Hartley films: beautiful photography, disciplined design, and (usually) extraordinarily attractive actors who mouth almost excruciatingly gassy dialogue in a deadpan style that seems to serve as ballast. "Henry Fool" is no different. But this film delves so deeply and sympathetically into the Big Issues -- love, obligation, and most of all ART -- that it delivers a wallop that reminds me of how I felt at the end of Irving's "Owen Meany". And I mean that as a high compliment.

"Henry Fool" is imperfect, at moments even ridiculous, but you just might be changed by it. Not bad for a movie.

Henry Fool is a wonderful film, easily one of the year's best (so I decided to take on the name of one of the main characters). I went to the movie despite the fact that Hal Hartley's previous films have never done much for me, his style of storytelling never really appealed to me. I'm glad I went. Great performances all around, working with a literate script (that manages to remain so even during the film's much written about vomiting and defecation scenes), plus a great soundtrack, composed by Hartley himself.

The central theme of what is possibly the best film made in America in the '90s ABOUT America in the '90s -- that the transition from the mainstream to the original is plagued and diverted by cultural roadblocks that auto-translate the original into the mainstream, in effect creating a society that caricutarizes itself at every step -- is ironically and tragically played out in the viewer comments to this film. It is apparently impossible for an American audience to distinguish the mentality or temperament of a character or an event from that of a film itself as a structural entity. It is furthermore difficult for this population to distinguish the "intellectual" from the "pretentious". The brilliantly created web of major, minor and medium characters -- from the fad-driven publisher who is loathe to "digitalize" books to a mother and sister who laugh hysterically at the idea of Simon becoming a poet -- fit perfectly and organically into a society where the internet can instantly make something that personifies "fringe" (this doesn't mean that is good -- we are never given a glimpse of the poem)into readily accessible and, eventually, mainstream. I'm not sure, and I'm not sure I'm supposed to be positive whether this is good or bad. It is a slippery slope either way, and the ambiguity of whether Henry is running to or from the plane to get the Nobel Prize at the end made me want this almost two hour movie to last at least another couple. I am consoled by the fact that this is only my first Hal Hartley.

If Hal Hartley were never to make another film, he could easily go down as having created a genuine American Masterpiece with "Henry Fool." Hartley takes this material and stamps it with heart and soul and distance. It's like staring at a palette of beautiful colors - then stepping back to realize it's a bruise. Henry is never less than this astonishing.

As Henry,Thomas Jay Ryan gives what is easily the best film debut I've seen in many years. None of the wimpy whispery-voiced drivel that passes for acting these days (from even some of our best screen actors) his performance practically pops off of the screen like a fart at a funeral. The rest of the cast - James Urbaniak, Parker Posey, Maria Porter, Kevin Corrigan, et al. - are on the same inspired level, but it's obvious why the film is named after Henry. I cannot wait to see this man in more.

Obviously allegorical, "Henry Fool" fairly teems with its laundry list of symbolism both quaint and profound, easy and impossible. I found my cheeks hurting from the smile stretching across my face for much of the film. Other moments had my eyes welling with tears at the beauty – and pain – these oh, so deceptively simple lives toil through.

This is not, obviously, a film for all audiences, there is something of the fairy tale here and while suspension of disbelief is required, it is also its own reward. Actually the characters, though larger than life, are so evenly and wondrously drawn as to become recognizable to all of us as ourselves or others in our own lives. Here we weigh out the seemingly unfair advantages we perceive "others" has having, the pronouncements of self-worth and desire for acceptance and understanding.

Hartley's dialogue is equal to the visual aspects of his film: almost stagey (in the good sense), but with a direct honesty that many, unfortunately, will find offputting. His cast delivers these perfectly placed pronouncements with all the gravitas demanded of the situation - and sound natural doing so. It's a beautiful film to listen to.

Aside from the brilliant storytelling, "Henry" is also beautiful to look at. Hartley's cameramen lens a Queenscape most unusual – one never quite feels he knows where it's taking place, despite obvious "Queens" clues. Every frame – from Henry's powerfully bizarre arrival to the last triumphant (and gloriously ambiguous) cell is a pleasure, a joy to watch.

At its conclusion all I could say was "this was the best movie I've ever seen." Upon reflection, I realize it probably isn't, but at that moment (and each ensuing viewing) I recapture that same, precise feeling. That's what I want in a movie and Henry delivered.

Its not that its groundbreaking in the way it tells its story, or that its story is that unusual - its tricky to put your finger on which element makes Henry Fool so unique, but as a whole the work is very unique indeed. If i had to give you a reason why this felt so new to me, was that i'd never seen a movie entirely devoted to literature before, the power of poetry in particular. I found it quite refreshing.

Hartley has gone for an atmosphere of strangeness, a kind of artificiality which still rings true, and it works completely. Henry Fool (the character whose nature this movie is an investigation into, which takes the narrative form of his walking into the lives of a low-class suburban family, especially disaffected garbage-man and potential poet Simon) talks and behaves like what he imagines himself, which is the roguish hero of some tragic, romantic Shakespeare play, and a kind of difficult genius. But is he a genius for real? Is this "confession" he's writing, his life's work, a masterwork, or a piece of sh*t? Henry affects the lives of a small group of great characters in Simon's local neighbourhood, all drawn with marvellously light brushstrokes, and all seeming like imagined, literary beings, yet still very human. But is he a good influence or a bad influence on this neighbourhood?

I can't predict whether you'll like Henry Fool or not - all i can tell you is that i found it captivating and original to the last.