Viva Enquanto Puder

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..

When I saw the first trailer for American Beauty a couple of years ago, I said, "Hmm. Looks like an American version of 'Bliss'." Which it was, only not as good and not as brave.

"Harry Joy was a man who liked to tell stories," says the narrator, and this film is full of stories: Histories told through incident, Realities literally warped by perception, Fantasies anchored in Truth, etc. "In New York, there are towers of glass, and the Devil himself drives a big Cadillac Limousine right down Fifth Avenue."

Surreal and enervating, informed by Dante's Inferno and with an ending you never saw coming, this has been one of my very favorite films for sixteen years. It's where I got the name "Mister Joy" ("No, you are NOT Harry Joy, you are MISter Joy.").

Too bad Lester Burnham didn't see it when he was a younger man.

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!

Ray Lawrence, the director of "Bliss," and Paul Murphy, its cinematographer, were both first-time feature filmmakers when they made "Bliss." I believe the movie swept the Australian "Oscars" in '85, and in my humble opinion, deservedly so.

The tone is somewhat dark, the genre surrealist comedy, the performances deliciously eccentric, and the storytelling masterful. "Bliss" reminds me more of some of my favorite novels than it does any other films. Peter Carey's novel and adaptation have some of the feeling of John Irving's earlier works, but it's not derivative. The cinematography is gorgeous and understated. It has a surprisingly romantic core beneath a fairly jaded surface, which I think is a tough combination to pull off.

It isn't appropriate for kids (it has sophisticated, adult themes and, at moments, a very frank approach to sex) and it has an unexpectedly epic, languorous feel toward the end (so don't watch it when you're sleepy), but if you're serious about appreciating movies, you owe it to yourself to give this one a chance. Enjoy!

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.