To cap off this year’s reviews, here’s one about endings and new beginnings—from Ronald Bass comes a film from Robin William’s peak of fame in the nineties. From Miss Doubtfire to Hook to Aladdin to Jakob the Liar…even in that decade alone you have to say something for the sheer breadth of projects he took on. This one seems a bit less talked about even among them, but it caught my eye nevertheless—here’s What Dreams May Come.
Williams here plays Chris, a pediatrician who one day in Switzerland encounters a woman by the name of Annie (Annabella Sciorra). Love, marriage, and eventually children ensue—until tragedy strikes the family repeatedly, eventually leaving Chris moving on into an afterlife inspired by his memories. Eventually, however, he finds that his wife has followed, but not to the same place of existence—and so, he potentially gives up an eternity of paradise in an effort to save her soul.
The first striking aspect of the film are the visuals—filmed on a rather unique stock that brings out a little extra warmth and vibrancy, we have vistas inspired by oil paintings as Chris ventures through panoramas inspired by his wife’s work. We have fixtures that are just smears and streaks, and fields of painted flowers. That of course comes before cities also rendered in a similar hyperreal and stylized way. It’s a combination of real locations and what at the time was some real experimentation with computer visuals—and it’s something that perhaps quite deliberately comes in stark contrast to the rather heavy themes of suicide, loss, and coping with it all.
Yep, the elephant in the room here is of course to do with William’s unfortunate death by suicide in 2014—and that alone unavoidably brings a whole new dimension to the film. By itself on release it was taken as something of a mixed bag—with nice visuals, but perhaps a slightly mixed plot. But no film, as I have always contended, can be truly divorced from context that surrounds it, be it of the time or what comes later—and when Chris is broken the news of his wife’s passing by the Virgil-like figure of Albert (Cuba Gooding Jr), we see both the dramatic acting that Williams really could pull off, but also his angry at the notion of judging suicides so easily. All unintentional, but what this does unwittingly give us 25 years later is a sense of catharsis.
Indeed, things turn darker as Chris undertakes a somewhat less brimstone-flavored journey akin to Dante himself—once again do we have Max von Sydow come into to something with themes of afterlife. Here hell is less on demons, more on a realm inspired also by paintings bleak and apocalyptic, but ultimately all conjured from the emotions and turmoil within. Between all this we have dialogue that’s rather on the nose—but with enough sincerity here and visual ambition, it’s not that difficult to overlook.
Williams would admit that he found the film somewhat hard to work on—that much you can often see in his eyes as it goes on, and it reflects how for many who got to see his personal side, they found him shyer and less certain than his more exuberant roles may suggest. And for that reason, with everything that happened, it’s perhaps for the best this time that the ending was changed to something different from the darker and more ambiguous way the original cut and source material left on. Starting anew, forging beginnings through sheer force of feeling…perhaps it may have been seen as overly rosy, but perhaps that firmer closure fits it better here. And for those also who may have struggled with some of the things at hand here, it’s a more hopeful and therapeutic note that perhaps are better touched in more uncertain times.
Some might find it overwrought as others did on release, but for me, with all in mind, I do think there’s enough sincerity and perhaps now more relevance too—if nothing else, it shows how time and context can change perceptions and bring new weight to things, be it with the players or even what personal changes time brings. Give it a try and see for yourself…
Comments
Post a Comment