Bliss

I know my views seem to be running counter to the general trend on this film, however that's exactly the spirit in which Bliss was created 19 years ago. The difficulty is that Lawrence has gone so exuberantly for the 'shock' technique that the point and plot is all but obscured beneath the contrived quirkiness. We have sibling fellatio, fascist/sadistic sexual references, nudity, a relentlessly 'offbeat' gallery of characters and a general all-out drive to destroy sacred cows that is so single-minded that one can almost hear the boxes being ticked. At the first screening I recall my friend and I, both unshockable, rolling our eyes in embarrassment at this aspect of the film. It seemed a bit like being beaten repeatedly over the head by a hippie wielding a set of beads.

Almost twenty years on, the 'groundbreaking' aspects of Bliss seem tame and quaint, rather like the first episodes of 'Last of the Australians' in which Alwyn Kurts uttered the word 'bastard' on prime time sitcom television. So too, the attention seeking camera-work and 'innovative' narrative treatment strike this viewer as lethargic and unremarkable. The film has been described as 'lauded' but it is worthy of note that at the time it was a box-office disaster, and the industry in general deigned to provide Ray Lawrence with sufficient funds to make another feature until sixteen years later. I know (indeed expect) that many film fans will violently disagree with me, but I welcome (civilised) dissent. Bliss has failed to enhance its reputation with the passing years, but then again I am still of the opinion that Jackson Pollock's paintings are rubbish, and expect to find myself bailed up by the 'cognoscenti' on the cocktail party circuit..

Not just a film, but also an experience. A man dies from a heart attack and is bought back to life. He is however convinced he is in hell. Feeling confused and scared by the strangeness of his family and the world around him, he starts to have a breakdown. It seems his only salvation lies in the arms of a prostitute, but can you find love in hell?

This is a truly beautiful movie, at times scary, at times befuddling. Like the world Harry Bliss lives in, like the world we live in.

The film "American Beauty" has so many similarities to Bliss that the resemblence is surely more than coincidental. Both are great films but Bliss is more cerebral and overall a superior film.

Enjoy it. A must see.

Ray Lawrence's adaptation of Peter Carey's novel is one of those rare birds - a perfect screen adaptation of a great book.

Harry Joy, an advertising executive, has a near-fatal heart attack - but when he recovers he is convinced he is in hell. And why not? His bitchy wife is having a torrid affair right under his nose, his son is trading drugs for sex with his own sister, and his ad agency represents the most destructive and polluting companies in town. Harry's life spirals out of control until he breaks away from his awful family and finds redemption in his love for the beautiful Honey Barbara.

Filled with extraordinary images, the film captures the surreal mood, the sense of hidden menace and the outrageous black humour of Carey's book, and brings the characters vividly to life.

Barry Otto, one of Australia's greatest actors, is perfect as Harry and he is brilliantly supported by an outstanding cast, including Lynette Curran as his horrible wife, Miles Buchanan as his evil and depraved son, Gia Carides as the daughter, and especially Helen Jones as his hippy 'innamorata', Honey Barbara.

If you can find it, the longer "director's cut" version is a must-see, for the amazing police-station scene - inexplicably removed from the initial release version - where Harry, under arrest after a series of bizarre and hilarious incidents, transfixes the cops with one of his famous stories. Barry Otto delivers an electrifying monologue, in one long, unedited scene, with the camera gradually pulling closer and closer to an extreme closeup of his face.

"Bliss" is director Ray Lawrence's only feature film to date - but one perfect film is better than ten duds!

If Lawrence had cut out a third of the film it would have been better. Within reason, I think he could have got rid of ANY third. A third of the storyline could have gone (the beginning, the middle, the end, or fragments throughout), or a sixth of the storyline plus a sixth of the character development, or a third of the quirkiness, or a third of the odd devices (straight-to-the-camera narrative could have stayed on condition the dream sequences went, or vice versa, or some such). It's like the plate of an overly ambitious diner at a banquet, with quail eggs, a potato dumpling, salad, a banana fritter, baked trout, a small slice of quiche, a strawberry, eggplant, satayed parsnip with brown rice, two roast chestnuts and four kinds of cheese. Thankfully, the elements are positioned so as not to ruin one another's flavour, but there's just too many of them.

But at least this is a fault on the right side.

It's as if "Bliss" were a repository, or a central font, of all of the offbeat black humour, all the odd characters, and all the quirky local colour, to have appeared in every Australian film made since. This isn't a bad thing. (My earlier complaint is that its ferociously luxuriant growth could have been cut back by a third and it would STILL have contained all the offbeat black humour, etc.) What makes it great is that it's more sincere than any of its imitators. A mere seventeen years old, it seems to date from a magical, all-but-forgotten pre-digital age, when we REALLY made films, and didn't just play at doing so.

On reflection: I don't care if there IS too much here. So much of it is so good, like the prim, fascist manager of the lunatic ward, the scene in which the cancer map is unveiled (Lawrence makes much out of a mere conversation in a hotel room), and the "love letter" to Honey Barbara. The strength which flows through the film's limbs is probably inherited from the era in which it was made. This decade (from a few years into the 1980s until a few years into the 1990s) saw Australian society at its most optimistic, tolerant and decent. We've come a long way downhill in the short time since.