Objeto do Desejo

Not the usual fare for PPV on Bulsatcom in Bulgaria and, with Malkovich currently appearing every few seconds on CNN, in ads for one of their items about him (I've seen the item and he is sickeningly pretentious), I was in two minds whether or not to use my last (free) token to watch it.

My God! I am glad I did. Malkovich and MacDowell gave superlative performances in a beautifully written, directed and acted piece where even the minor roles combined to make this a masterpiece of story and film. Not just "even" the minor roles, as these were excellent performances by Joss Ackland, Ricci Harnett, Bill Paterson, Roger Lloyd-Pack, etc., etc., yes even the few lines from Pip Torrens as the art evaluator. Rudi Davies was excellent (not sure why we haven't seen anything from her in the last fifteen years).

Well, my free token ran out three minutes before the end. Pity!

The object in question is a pint-sized Henry Moore statuette, owned by shallow sophisticate Andie McDowell and appraised at $35,000, an amount in many ways even more beautiful to its owner than the item itself. Especially when McDowell and her 'husband' (played to haughty perfection by John Malkovich) find themselves at a fiscal disadvantage while living beyond their means in a posh London hotel. In the vernacular of the upwardly mobile, they aren't 'fluid', and when the statuette disappears they immediately accuse each other of plotting to collect the insurance value. The film is an underhanded, cynical, satirical poke at American materialism, pointless in the end because nothing is resolved. But the plot itself is secondary to the characters (ugly though they are), and rarely have two actors been better suited to their roles: McDowell's poor little rich girl routine is by now second nature, and Malkovich captures all the self-absorbed boredom of the ersatz upper class with his languid voice and steady reptilian gaze.

Jake and Tina are living a lavish life in a top London Hotel, only they are living way beyond their means, their only asset, Tina's limited edition Henry Moore figurine. Its disappearance coincides with new maid Jenny, who took a shine to it.

I understand why it has a relatively low score, and I don't think anyone could argue it has a massive appeal, but it has a definite appeal.

It's a real fusion of styles, yes it's a drama, but it's a comedy, it's a romance, it definitely crosses the genres.

Jake and Tina are two very spoiled adult children, they have no respect for one another, no regard for one another, I don't even think they like eachother, you have to wonder how on Earth they got together.

Delightful performances from the leading stars, John Malkovich and a radiant Andie MacDowell are both terrific, she edges it for me, Bill Patterson and Joss Ackland are both quite wonderful.

Not quite an underrated gem, but definitely well worth seeing.

7/10.

This movie disappointed me. It's billed as a 'low key comedy', but ends up being so low key, you wonder (with the exception of a couple of scenes) where the comedy is. Most of my disappointment, however, stems from the script - aside from the chambermaid and her brother, I simply did not care what happened to the characters. The juxtaposition of the two ways of life was excellent - but it's too obvious where the scriptwriter's sympathies lie.

My review was written In March 1991 after watching the film at a Times Square screening room.

"The Object of Beauty" is a throwback to the romantic comedies of Swinging London cinema, but lacks the punch of the best of that late '60s genre. It has only modest prospects among sophisticated theatrical audiences, with a much better outlook in ancillary exposure.

Following up his "The Sheltering Sky" performance with another drifting character, John Malkovich toplines as a ne'er-do-well holed up in a swank London hotel with his mate Andie MacDowell. Everyone assumes the two of them are married, but MacDowell is still hitched to estranged hubby Peter Riegert.

With amiable comedy situations to sugarcoat the opening reels, not much happens as the duo dine in the hotel's expensive restaurant, Malkovich worries about his broker selling him out on dubious investments and he carefully dodges the hotel manager (Joss Ackland) with inquiries about paying a portion of their bill.

Plot concerns the title object, a small Henry Moore figurine that MacDowell received from Riegert as a present and which Malkovich desperately wants to sell or use for an insurance scam to cover his hotel tab and ongoing business reverses.

Key script contrivance has a deaf-mute maid (Rudi Davies), newly hired at the hotel, becoming obsessed with the Moore sculpture and stealing it for a keepsake. This sets into motion trite complications, notably developing a wedge (as corny as O. Henry's "The Gift of the Magi") between Malkovich and MacDowell as each believes the other has pocketed the $50,000 art work.

A subplot involving Davies and her punk-styled brother strains heavily for pathos. Another unsuccessful side issue is Malkovich's selfish affair with MacDowell's best friend Lolita Davidovich, who makes the most of her one-dimensional part. (She replaced Elizabeth Perkins in the role.)

As in "Sheltering Sky", Malkovich ably brings out the unsympathetic nature of his antihero, but the script doesn't help him much in balancing that with any compelling reason for identification. It's hard to care about someone whose future lies in produce sitting on a dock in Sierra Leone.

The viewer will instantly side with MacDowell, whose natural beauty is augmented here by a feisty violent streak whenever Malkovich steps over the line (which is frequent). In addition to Davidovich, Davies, Ackland, officious hotel dick Bill Paterson and no-nonsense insurance inspector Jack Shepherd turn in pro turns.

Filmmaker Michael Lindsay-Hogg, whose diverse credits range from the Beatles' "Let It Be" to farce ("Nasty Habits"), develops effective individual scenes but fails to create a reason for sustained interest in his characters. Result is a mildly diverting but empty picture. Daid Watkin, whose experience in the genre dates back to Richard Lester's classic "The Knack", has photographed the deceptively carefree setting with aplomb.