Bartleby

Bartleby is clearly on the autistic spectrum, but was not recognized as such owing to the prevailing attitudes of the time (1970). What should have been a barely watchable curiosity piece is elevated to something more engaging by the fine acting and evocative locations. After a single viewing, I already cherish this film and as a "cult" movie it is a worthy addition to that genre.

A somewhat sad and unusual film. John McEnery is marvelous as Bartleby, you cannot help feeling sorry for him even though he does not want to be helped in any way. Paul Scofield is also perefectly cast as the sympathetic boss.

Unlike other reviewers I haven't read the book and can't comment on its success as an adaptation.

The story is very, VERY basic. A mysterious young man, Bartleby (John McEnery) applies successfully for the position of audit clerk at a small accountancy firm in London.

At first he works well but doesn't socialise at all with any of his colleagues. Things start to slip when the Accountant (the fabulous Paul Scofield) asks him to do a task and Bartleby replies 'I would prefer not to.' This becomes Bartleby's response to every request from now on and the Accountant becomes increasingly exasperated with his new employee. Instead of dismissing him, the well-meaning accountant shares Bartleby's work amongst his colleagues and hopes to get to the bottom of the problem.

In allowing him to stay, the Accountant sees Bartleby's behaviour become more bizarre as he takes up residence in the office.

Even after dismissing Bartleby, the Accountant is unable to get rid of him and he re-locates the firm to a new office in the hope of getting away from this curious young man.

If The Accountant felt he would have heard the last of Bartleby by this stage, he is sadly mistaken.

A story like this could result in an extremely dull film but the inventive direction from Anthony Friedman (why hasn't he done any other films?) and Scofield's superb performance prevent this from happening.

Scofield is one of the more enigmatic figures in cinema history. Primarily a stage actor, and a highly distinguished one, he has made relatively few feature films, less than 20 in fact.

However his limited filmography has not stopped him from winning an impressive array of screen awards including the Best Actor Oscar and three BAFTA's.

It is very typical of Scofield that, having already won the Oscar, he turned down the Robert Mitchum role in Ryan's Daughter (a part he was better suited for than Mitchum) and opted to do a tiny little film like Bartleby.

Although McEnery is very good in the film, he has fairly little to do and it is Scofield who carries the picture. His portrayal of a kindly yet increasingly bemused employer is excellent and the delivery of his lines e.g.

'You're living here; you're ACTUALLY living in my office!' is superb and adds the humour needed to make this film succeed.

I can't imagine this film getting any kind of publicity when it was first shown, no premiere at Leicester Square and subsequent nationwide release. In many ways it resembles the American Film Theatre productions of the 1970's but with a little more cinematic flair.

Its difficult to see how this film could be expected to turn a profit and although there have been 3 subsequent film adaptations of Melville's story, I doubt very much that movies of this style and small ambition would be given the go-ahead nowadays.

But I'm glad that Bartleby was made and that it is now available on DVD (but not yet in the UK), it's an amusing little curio that deserves to be better known.

I love Bartleby and this is the reason to see this adaptation of the gem by Melville with serious simpaty.

Because it is not easy to create a proper portrait of the main character and the reasonable solution is only to use a large dose of subjectivity, proposing only your Bartleby. In this case, the result is just a meritous good point, John McEnery suggesting a state not so eccentric of a man refuged under the indifference veil, with, maybe, too clear perspective about life.

The compensation - the accountant , proposed by Paul Scofield. And the clever atmosphere of 1970 ' s.

In short, a seductive adaptation. And a fair portrait of a state of soul.

The problem with Bartleby is not Paul Scofield or John McEnery, both of whom are fine actors. The problem is the story itself, which cannot really be updated to the present day, regardless of whether that present day be 1970 or 2001. Bartleby is a story written in the 1800s, about the 1800s, and it simply doesn't work in the present day.

For example, there is the office in which Bartleby works. He works for a lawyer in a cold and dark office that seems more akin to that of Ebenezer Scrooge than to any bright, airy, modern-day office building. Indeed, the only window in Bartleby's office has no view because it looks out onto an airshaft.

Then there is the nature of Bartleby's occupation. He is not, as in this version, an accountant. Indeed, his function is nowhere near so creative as that. He is, in point of fact, a scrivener in a law office. And exactly what is it that a scrivener does? He copies law documents. Bartleby is, in point of fact, nothing more than a human Xerox Machine. Bear in mind that, in the 19th century, there were no such things as word processors, Xerox Machines, carbon paper or even typewriters. A lawyer who needed to produce duplicate copies of legal documents employed scriveners to produce those copies word for word, by hand, with pen and paper. It is impossible to imagine any occupation as stupefyingly dull as that.

By the same token, it is also impossible to imagine anyone today performing any occupation even remotely comparable to that of a 19th century scrivener. It simply doesn't, and could't, exist today. And that is precisely the point. The world of Bartleby is as different from the world of a modern office worker as the world inhabited by the whalers in Moby Dick would be from that on board a modern-day whale-catching ship. Both have changed so much since the 19th century as to be as alien as the surface of another planet.