Le rivage oublié

Being American and inadvertently an avid viewer (consumer) of cinema of all genres and qualities, I have to say that this is one of my all-time, forgotten favorites.

Not being a film student or critic, I fall into that overlooked and easily dismissed category called "the audience" which is humorously described as having no knowledge of art, but knowing with certainty what one likes. As such, I can say, unequivocally, that I like this film.

Most important to me as a viewer, above all other aspects of a film, is the story that is being told. If the story is winning, endearing and meaningful, then all else can be forgiven, production quality, even poor acting. Sans the poor acting, "They Might Be Giants" is just such a film.

I won't bore you with the wealth of meaning and depth of insight that I have gleaned from this wonderful story. Suffice it to say that despite what some have chosen to call its' "saccharine" quality (and what I call its' endearing quality), this story has the metaphysical import that elevates it to the level of a modern-day fable for the Western World.

Because I am unstudied and basically an "illiterate" in terms of Western Literature, the references to Don Quiote were completely invisible to me until now. For this enlightenment, I give thanks to the other reviewers. This comparison rings true throughout the story, and has enriched its' overall meaning for me. However, because I was initially unaware of this now obvious reference, for me the "They" in the title of "They Might Be Giants" referred to the very characters, themselves, all of whom are socially flawed, socially marginalized individuals, all of whom are void of "desirability".

As such, these characters, very aptly portrayed by the cast, although quirky, stand-alone individuals respectively, collectively come to represent the "everyman". The impersonal facelessness and the spirit-killing angst of personal worthlessness in midst of the post-industrial age of "modernity" are the windmills at which our Don Quiote, Justin Playfair, tilts. More importantly, we come to understand that this mask of facelessness may well be hiding individuals of truly gigantic spiritual dimensions and human worth. Our fellow human beings, who we pass, nameless, in the streets, "They Might Be Giants"!

I saw this gem of a motion picture on television in the early 70's. I really was no more than a boy when I saw it and yet it touched me in a way that no other film had. For the first time I appreciated a piece of cinema for more than just idle distraction from dull small town Texas life. They Might Be Giants taught me that movies could be art and could elevate as much as they entertain. From that time to this, whenever I am asked what is my favourite film, I always point to this picture. It was done on a very low budget so the story, characters and amazing actors carry it along the streets of New York, creating a world of whimsical romance and serio-comic tension. The relationship between the mad Justin Playfair (a loony judge who thinks he's Sherlock Homes) and Dr. Mildred Watson (obviously destined to become the pschizo's unwilling side kick) builds into a romance that is funny, touching and, by the end, uplifting. It is available on DVD now and is a cherished piece of my extensive collection. 10 out of 10 all the way.

This is a quirky, oddly affecting comedy about a judge, gone psychotic after the death of his wife, who believes that he is Sherlock Holmes. His brother wants him committed to an asylum, not for reasons of concern, but so that he can become executor of the would be Holmes's considerable estate.

A female psychiatrist is asked to interview him for the formality of the commitment but becomes fascinated by the "Holmes" she meets because of his truly extraordinary deductive reasoning. It's apparent that, delusional or not, he may be a genius of some kind, and far more fascinating than most ordinary mortals.

The psychiatrist, whose name just happens to be Watson, joins this Sherlock Holmes in his quest to search the streets of New York City for his nemesis, Professor Moriarty. On the way they meet various other people, also largely spurned by society, but, somehow, kindred souls in an otherwise pretty cold world.

This strange but intelligent, utterly charming film died a quick death at the 1971 box office, but has found a cult following of sorts over the years. George C. Scott, with briar pipe and deerstalker hat, is virtual perfection in the role of the man who believes he is Holmes, while Joanne Woodward, devoid of her usual glamour, playing the socially awkward psychiatrist who starts to gradually believe in his cause, brings a warmth and touching vulnerability to her role.

The film has a few wonderful scenes with lovely little touches. Holmes takes his Watson to a little movie theatre, almost empty but for a few street people, and a makeout couple in the top balcony. Yet the street people there all know him, greeting him with smiles as "Mr. Holmes" at this theatre where he likes to come for comfort and watch westerns.

At another unexpected moment a police officer suddenly comes around the corner, spots "Holmes" and a large smile spreads across his face as he says, "Why, Mr. Rathbone, it's an honor, sir," as he reaches over to shake his hand.

And, towards the film's beginning, there is a marvelous scene in which Scott, dressed as Holmes, arrives at a seedy asylum where an inmate is being abused by an orderly. There's a low angle camera shot of a towering Scott/Holmes as he struts through the hallway unruffled, dispassionately disarming orderlies who try to grab him, then proceeds to analyze the mind of the abused patient in a manner that has the patient's doctor (Watson in her first encounter of him) in almost open mouthed admiration.

The film's final scene will undoubtedly baffle many viewers because of its ambiguity. It's a moment that is clearly open to interpretation. But I think that scene, and this film, are about the soaring human spirit, and a belief in one's self even though logic and all around you may tell you that you are wrong.

James Goldman's most beautiful and literary script, a fragile and delicate fantasy/comedy that delivers on its initial promise. Beautifully acted by Scott, Woodward and Gilford, and with a dozen or more cameos that are truly memorable, this is truly a feel-good movie for the literate and the intelligencia. I would rank it among my top half-dozen.

Sadly, i saw this film only once, back in the early eighties;it remains unforgettable.An earlier reviewer said that it echoes Don Quixote as well as Holmes;they were right. Scott was one of the greatest actors, and this is one of his finest films. It is rich in humor and fantasy, and it boasts a very good performance by Ms. Woodward to compliment the one by Scott.