Charlie Bubbles

Interesting but ultimately unmoving drama (with quirks) has the title-named character, a rich writer who lives in plushy comfort, unable to get over his guilt of having money. When Charlie visits his Northern haunts, where the streets are filled with potholes and the surroundings match the sky--all in gray--we wonder, "Why is he so obsessed with his early poverty?" and "Why can't he get on with his life?" Director-star Albert Finney doesn't give us much to go on (or maybe you have to be British to understand the symbols inherent in British society) and most of his film feels like a put-on. Liza Minnelli has a small part as an American secretary, and she occasionally pushes her kooky "Americanisms" too far; however, though the role isn't much, Minnelli has a strange, slightly zonked/slightly exotic presence, and when she performs in a low-key she's appealing. As Mrs. Bubbles, Billie Whitelaw got most of the acclaim, but it's Liza we remember. As for the much-talked about finale, I thought it profound in its fantastic way, but, like the rest of "Charlie Bubbles", it exists to please and understand itself, leaving the rest of us on the outside looking in. ** from ****

This is a surprisingly pedestrian affair from Albert Finney as he directs herself in the title role as a writer who has made plenty of money from his career. He has a lovely convertible Rolls Royce, a home with staff and a rather prurient security system and even manages the odd high-class food fight with his friend "Smokey" (Colin Blakely) but he is divorced, has a wayward young son and very little fulfilment in his life. It's on a trip to visit his former family with his secretary (Liza Minnelli) that we learn a little more about the causes of his divorce and of his new attentions as we meet ex-wife "Lotte" (Billie Whitelaw) and son "Jack" (the frequently scene-stealing Timothy Garland) and appreciate the somewhat enthusiastic interest in his visit by the local media. This has something of the stage play to it, and perhaps it might have worked better within the confines of a theatre giving it a degree more intensity. As it is, though, I found it all a rather lacklustre observation of the life of a man about whom I really didn't care. Aside from the aforementioned food fight, there is very little humour here and to be honest I was more than a little disinterested in his problems and peccadilloes by the end. Minnelli doesn't really feature enough to make that much difference although there is one rather awkward scene that is perhaps not one you'd probably ever have expected to see but that isn't really enough to kickstart or sustain this. It's all very proficiently put together but is an unremarkable ninety minutes, sadly.

This excellent film is about the effects of displacement, of being a fish out of water. Working-class Charlie Bubbles has ascended from his humble origins to become a successful writer. He has clearly not handled the transition well from within, but it's hardly surprising when there are so many hurdles to overcome in the world outside of himself. The story would have been familiar to a lot of people in Britain in the 60s, as the first generation to benefit from the post-WW2 welfare state came to adulthood. CHARLIE BUBBLES nails this more effectively than any other film I know. Playwright Shelagh (A TASTE OF HONEY) Delaney's script is full of acute observation; the acting is marvellous, the cinematography (by a young Peter Suschitzky, now better known as David Cronenberg's DOP) noticeably European, the charming score (by Misha Donat - Mr Suschitzky's sister) a nod to to the work of Georges Delerue and Nino Rota. Indeed, the movie as a whole leans more towards New Wave and Fellini than the realistic school in which Finney made his name as an actor. Here he is also the director - his one and only feature film in that capacity - and a very creditable achievement it is too. How CHARLIE BUBBLES reads to people unfamiliar with its social and historical background, I don't know. For me it is one of the finest British films of the sixties, but it somehow gets overlooked in the enthusiasm for THE LONELINESS OF THE LONG-DISTANCE RUNNER, A KIND OF LOVING and of course Saturday NIGHT AND Sunday MORNING. They are all fine films, but so is this one. Re-assessment in its favour is long overdue.

I think it's a classic existentialist movie, very much of the European school. Man can never be truly happy or satisfied, with what he's got or with what he gets even if all his ambitions and dreams come true.I think Albert Finney has done an amazing job. It takes true guts and real skill to make a film like this and 'get life' out of it without resorting to fist fights, car chases and shootouts. I love the small moments, like where he puts the eyelashes on his sons lip to make a 'moustache', or when his wife takes the tea cup and his acting when he reaches for it. Billie Whitelaw looks super-sexy in the film and her performance is beautiful. Her gaze at him when he's tucked in bed said more than a million lines of dialogue could. I wish Mr Finney had directed more films, if his debut as a director was this good, imagine what would have come after a few more films. Aah we'll never know...

A few unwelcome scatological moments of surreal humour not withstanding, Albert Finney's only film as a director, "Charlie Bubbles", remains both a remarkable period piece and one of the most imaginative British films of the sixties, perhaps not the masterpiece I first thought it to be, (it was my best film of the year), but unmissable nevertheless. Finney made it in 1968, from an original screenplay by Shelagh Delaney, a time when the Kitchen Sink was no longer fashionable and a new kind of New Wave, typified by films like Nicolas Roeg and Donald Cammell's "Performance" and Richard Lester's "Petulia", was coming into play. This is certainly good enough to make you wish Finney had directed again.

He plays a working-class writer who has made it big, (he drives a Rolls and his books have been turned into films), and the film is set over the weekend he drives North and back to his roots with his unofficial secretary in tow, (a very good, if unlikely, Liza Minnelli), to see his nine year old son, (a first-rate Timothy Garland), who lives on a farm with Charlie's ex-wife, (a terrific Billie Whitelaw). Not much happens and at times Delaney's screenplay is a little too Pinteresque for its own good, but it's also a richly observant picture of Britain at a particular moment in time and is greatly enhanced by the superb cinematography of Peter Suschitzky.