The Night of the Iguana

Watched this film recently for the seventh or eighth time -it' always a delight. Classic Burton hamming it up just enough. . . calm, cool Kerr proping up "Shannon's" sanity. . . free-spirited Gardner charging around trying to keep her sanity and reaching out for Shannon. . .Lyon, the "precocious" seductress. . . all were amazingly believable. I didn't have a problem with the black and white, in fact, I think it added to impact of the film, leaving it up to the actors to pull out the heart of William's magnificent play without the benefit of color, although I'm not sure color would have made any difference anyway. The final dialogue between Kerr and Burton was spellbinding: the meeting of two souls, if only for the moment.

Kerr, Burton, and Gardner were at their finest in this film.

It is possible to watch a film on a wide range of emotional and intellectual levels. One can pay attention only to the visuals, only to the minute trivia related to actors and actresses, to the most obvious displays of physical action, to appeals to one's sympathies, or to the underlying content and profundity trying to be expressed and communicated to the viewer. Thus, films can be judged to fail on the one hand when they succeed on the other, and this, I think, explains the lukewarm response to what is the finest films ever made in the English language. Whether or not Richard Burton always plays a drunk, whether or not it should have been in colour, are not in the least bit relevant to the significance, the concepts and the issues at play in this brilliant film, this monument to the resilience of human souls, to the compassion that can bring such succour on long, tortured nights, to the precious decency that is for some a perpetual struggle to attain, and the search, the life-long search, for belief, love and light.

The backdrop to the exploration of these issues that are so fundamental to individual lives is a Mexican coastal hotel. The central character is a de-frocked and unstable priest, T. Lawrence Shannon (Richard Burton) who, like the iguana that is tethered up in preparation to being eaten, is at the end of his rope. He walks alone, without the crutch of facile beliefs or human companionship beyond sterile physical conquests which only serve to heighten his own self-loathing and isolation. He arrives at the hotel in search of sanctuary in light of his mental deterioration. On his arrival he meets his old friend, the lascivious but no less desperate Maxine (Ava Gardner), a poet on the verge of death who is nevertheless striving for one last creative act, one last stab at beautiful self-expression, and his grand-daughter Hannah (Deborah Kerr), a resilient woman painfully trying to reconcile herself to loss, loneliness and the bitter struggle she faces with her own personal demons. They are united in that they are divided, in that they are all tortured souls seeking beauty, life, meaning and engaged in battles to stand tall, to live with integrity and love. On a hot, cloying night, a night of the iguana, when all their ropes snap taut, they meet.

The pivotal and most crucial part of this film is the conversation between Lawrence and Hannah. The former is in the throes of a nervous breakdown, the latter has survived and endured through the same. They are kindred souls that aid one another through the therapy of human connection, of empathy in the long, lonely walk. It is in this conversation that Tennessee Williams explores the issues make this film so important: through his characters, who are throughout depicted not as mere shallow cliches but individuals with histories and feelings that run deep, with subtleties that bring them to life, he meditates upon the struggle to find meaning in one's life, the need for companionship, the importance of compassion, and the way in which people endure, all the time grasping at what dignity they may have, and which may be forever threatened by trials, doubts and pain. These are not issues that date, that diminish in relevance, or that relate only to certain people - they are concepts that are universal, that speak to each individual and relate to fundamental facets of the human mind and spirit.

Because Night of the Iguana sets out to tackle such issues, it is elevated far beyond the level of most films. It is profound, but also deeply emotional, made more so by the superb characterisations (aided, in addition, by universally superb performances). One is afforded an insight into characters, into people, who live, breath, cry, shout, scream, and endure. They are fallible, capable of spite, caprice, and baseness, but they are also thoughtful, courageous and strangely noble. To watch them interact, thrown together as they are on a Mexican veranda, is affecting both emotionally and intellectually, and it is this interaction which is responsible for creating a film that stands (tall and dignified) above nearly all others.

Director John Huston took an all-star cast to a remote Mexican location to film this adaptation of Tennessee Williams' play. The location atmosphere lends a lot to the production and gives it a realistic atmosphere. Burton plays a shamed priest, shut out of his church and reduced to giving bus tours of Mexico for grotesque ladies of religion. (The breakdown which led to his dismissal is shown in a hilariously overwrought prologue.) One young passenger, Lyon, falls for him in a big way which does not sit well with her uptight (and repressed lesbian) chaperone (Hall.) The tour winds up at Gardner's hilltop hacienda where she has been mourning the recent death of her husband by getting it on regularly with two silent, maraca-shaking cabana boys. They are soon joined by a sketch artist (Kerr) and her ailing grandfather, a famous poet. Having originated as a Williams' play, it is given that there will be lots of turmoil and sniping among the characters and the film presents these moments well. There are also more than a few quiet moments of reflection and connection which also come across very nicely. Burton is in all his glory as a boozy, washed up man barely hanging on to what little dignity he has left. Gardner gives a credible performance with many zingers sprinkled throughout. She goes a little over the edge at times, but remains strong. Kerr has the most sensitive, thoughtful role and plays it brilliantly as always. Lyon was at the height of her stardom and shows the moves and the bod that made her a sensation, albeit briefly. Especially arresting is Hall. Her stick legs poking out uncomfortably from her linear skirt, her banshee-like voice screeching out the name "Charlotte!" as she frantically searches for nymphet Lyon, she is an exceedingly memorable person. Her final showdown with Burton is magnetic and when she exits the film, it loses a little bit of it's vitality. There is much to enjoy in the film, though sometimes the melodramatics get a bit ripe and the symbolism a touch heavy. The cinematography is incredible. Burton's eyes never gleamed so brightly. (Also, astonishingly, he has a scene emerging from the beach in wet white briefs which show a bit of outline of Rich, jr.! Not exactly expected in a 1964 film...)

The Night of the Iguana is a fantastic piece of drama that examines the human condition through a brilliant script adapted from Tennessee Williams' play of the same name.

From the arresting opening to the heart-warming ending (well, near-ending), this classic motion picture directed by John Huston will have your attention in it's grasp and won't let go until it's finished mesmerising you with all its beauty. I say 'beauty' because not only does the film feature the beautiful Ava Gardner and Deborah Kerr but also has some of the crispest black and white film photography I've seen in classic film to date. Every shot whether it's in the crummy old bus or on a cliff looking down in the cradle of life, looks magnificent on screen and gives the film a fresh feeling and tone throughout.

As can be expected from a film adapted from a Williams play, the writing and dialogue present is criminally witty and charming, often showing it's intelligence but always in the background, never destroying the real focus of the story being the characters. The cast all bring their characters to life magnificently too, giving fitting performances to their already well developed and insightful characters. Reverend Lawrence Shannon in particular is one of the most interesting and versatile characters I have ever seen in a movie, often moving between emotions and mind states faster than he can drive a bus, but never without cause and always with focus.

The plot to the film is admittedly very much on the thin side but nevertheless more than makes up for it with thought provoking themes and dialogues that fill in the spaces where such action may have otherwise been noticed as missing. There was a couple of other little problems I had with the story including the sometimes slow pace and the contrived ending or epilogue as I like to refer to it. However, these aspects don't do much damage to an otherwise perfect and timeless classic.

With an intelligent insight into the human condition, loneliness and the overwhelming need to love and be loved, this has to be one of the best pieces of classic cinema I have seen to date. In the end, The Night of the Iguana should not be overlooked and I recommend it to everyone who really enjoys good film.

This film, all and all, only gets better with each viewing. I first saw it as a child, and thought it odd and amusing. Yet even then I sensed something magical was going on in it, though I lacked then the adult realism to penetrate the world of Tennessee Williams. Subsequent viewings have only reinforced my feeling that this film may be the greatest film of the twentieth century. I say that not because it is an epic, or because William's play is so grand, but just because this play seems to so perfectly capture the age in which we live. We live, just as the Reverend Shannon does, torn between the desire to believe in an absolute, and the perils of such belief, between a reductionist 'realism' and an equally reductionist indulgence. The actors Kerr, Gardener, and especially Richard Burton, have sensed this, and their roles are so nuanced as to make one believe that what one is seeing is REALITY and not a theatrical performance. The emotional climax of the film comes at the moment when the old poet completes his poem and asks over and over again, in a paroxysm of painful joy---"Is it good? is it good?"---- Then he dies. Only the genius of Tennessee Williams come make such melodrama seem utterly convincing. For the artist who wrote this play has been complimented by the artists who directed and acted it. Great art leaves everything opened but nothing settled--- creating the sense that justice has been fully achieved. Here, all too rarely for the art of cinema, both grace and justice have indeed been fully achieved.