Published via Ecency

(source: tmdb.org)

Many of those lamenting the way freedom of speech and other civil liberties are being eroded in present-day Western civilisation might have been initially surprised, but not those that hadn’t subscribed to notion of history as process of linear progress. Regression of past freedoms is phenomenon that could be, among other thing, observed in Hollywood even decades ago. One good example may provide Lolita, controversial 1954 novel by Vladimir Nabokov which was adapted for big screen twice – first in 1962, during seemingly oppressive and heavily censored world of Production Code era Hollywood; and then in 1997, when creative freedom was supposed to be much broader. Despite all the controversies, 1962 adaptation was distributed by major studios, became one of the most talked about films of its time only to later earn the status of undisputed classics and one of the masterpieces in the career of Stanley Kubrick. Three and half decades later his colleague Adrian Lyne wasn’t so lucky. His version of Lolita was even before the release branded as despicable pornography for the vilest of perverts and, as such, had trouble finding US distributors ad even the critics who were supposed to be open-minded refused to review it. Unsurprisingly, Lyne’s film became one of the most obscure pieces of his filmography.

Script by Stanley Schiff, unlike Nabokov’s own script for 1962 version, is much more faithful to the actual novel, but the plot is basically same in both versions. It starts in 1947 when British professor Humbert Humbert (played by Jeremy Irons) comes to New England in order to teach English literature at one of its colleges. While inquiring about accommodation, he comes to the house owned by Charlotte Haze (played by Melanie Griffith), widow who initially dislikes. However, a look at her 12-year old daughter Dolores a.k.a. “Lolita” (played by Dominique Swain) is enough to immediately get infatuated and take room there. He wants to stay close to the object of his affection as long as possible and, in order to do so, uses Charlotte’s own romantic feelings towards him to get married and continue life with Lolita as her stepfather. When Charlotte dies this gives opportunity to Humbert to become her lover. Two of them, trying to avoid rumours and suspicions about their relationship, begin to travel around America. As time goes by and Lolita begins to turn into teenager, Humbert starts feeling jealousy and another problem is mysterious man who is following them.

One of the greatest ironies of Lyne’s Lolita is that it became shunned not because of its alleged “pornographic” approach to its subject matter, but because of the subject itself. In 1990s, despite all the achievements of 1960s and 1970s Sexual Revolution, puritanical instincts were quite alive and well, even among seemingly progressive cultural establishment, and they were simply channeled into certain fringe or morally problematic aspects of sexuality. If Lolita was to be criticised, however, it was because Lyne actually dared to remake Kubrick’s masterpiece. And comparisons were, predictably, at the expense of the latter film. The most obvious differences were the use of colour cinematography by Howard Atherton and somewhat more explicit erotic images although the accusations of “pornography” don’t hold any water because Lyne took very subtle approach and was very careful around portrayal of protagonist’s object of desire. Because of that Lolita, somewhat suprisingly, features more male than female nudity.

However, the most important difference between Kubrick’s and Lyne’s work is actual approach towards the subject matter. Kubrick has treated Nabokov’s tale of middle-aged infatuation with pre-pubescent girl as source of dark comedy and opportunity for his own misanthropic display of dysfunction and hypocrisy within what goes on as “polite society”. Lyne is, on the other hand, despite all alleged sensationalism in his filmography, actually a conservative and treats the story very seriously. The protagonist is explicitly portrayed as a flawed, weak mean who, despite all of his supposed intellectual superiority, succumbs to the temptation and pays the ultimate price. Jeremy Irons, however, plays it as some sort of romantic fool whose idea of happiness was doomed from the start and bound to end in humiliation and tragedy. This notion is underlined by predictably melancholic music score by Ennio Morricone, so different from playful but ironic themes by Nelson Riddle.

Irons, despite all of his skills and charisma, turns out to be too “stiff upper lip” compared to more humane and vulnerable version of Humbert portrayed by James Mason in the original film. Even the rest of the cast is predictably inferior to their counterparts from 1962 version – Melanie Griffith as Charlotte Haze can’t light candle to hysterical Shelley Winters while Frank Langella, despite being one of the best character actors of its generation, simply looks weak compared to brilliance of Peter Sellers in the role of Clare Quilty. The only part of cast that is better than its 1962 counterpart is Dominique Swain. Unlike the old version and like in the novel, character of Lolita is portrayed as 12-year old girl while being played by 15-year old actress who, despite her youth, shown great charm, warmth in the role of character than alternates between innocence and seductive manipulation. Swain is much more believable as title character than Sue Lyon in Kubrick’s film. Fates of both actresses were, sadly, somewhat similar. Just like Sue Lyon, Swain, despite her obvious talent, never managed to leave the shadow of her risky role and her later career never reached the heights promised by this film. Despite being well-made film that many viewers might enjoy, Lyne’s Lolita in light of its undeserved obscurity leaves a bad taste in mouth. At the same time, when put in context or more contemporary controversies like those around Cuties or current debates about sexualisation of children, it looks like a relic of a different and more innocent times.

RATING: 7/10 (+++)