Having read a part in Evelyn Waugh's "The Loved One" in college it's nice to recognize the sharp bite of the curmudgeonly Waugh wit in this latter-day film adaptation of his "Vile Bodies." This romp through the partying smart set of 1930s Britain's from the viewpoint of a budding young writer co-opted by a broadly drawn caricature of Lord Beaverbrook (played by Dan Aykroyd, type-cast for once as a loud Canadian) into the world of sensational yellow gossip journalism is wonderful.
The more obtund contemporary film adaptations of Waugh made in murky black and white converge on this almost Platonic ideal of a movie based on a Waugh story. The cinematography's splendid, the performances crisp and the pace taut. Emily Mortimer is properly reptilian as the desirable, shallow and fickle love-object Nina Blount, Stephen Campbell Moore earnest and sympathetic as striving and ineptly conniving Adam Fenwick-Symes, the cast in general bring Waugh's vision of the wicked, vapid high society scene of the 1930s to life adroitly.
Dan Aykroyd revels in the Beaverbrook-based character whaling away at the levers of power, David Tennant (the current incarnation of Doctor Who at this writing) is great as the obtuse but wealthy "Ginger", Peter O'Toole does a nice cameo as Nina's father, and the peripatetic Jim Broadbent puts in yeoman service.
Stockard Channing excels as a sociopathic rich American (every Waugh story has at least one). Her character, "Mrs. Melrose Ape," is an Aimee Semple MacPherson-type idiotic fundamentalist hypocrite touring wicked, pre-war Europe with a troupe of holy young girl singers, putting the Word of God to hokey rhyme. The words of the song "Ain't No Flies on the Lamb of God" may have been written by director Stephen Fry, but they are wicked satire in the Waughian spirit.
The vignettes of party life play nasty, amusing havoc with the social elite of pre-war Britain - well-placed clergymen sniff diffidently at cocaine and drink authoritatively, while His Majesty's statesmen are set adrift after their wives and daughters work their ruin in completely unnecessary scandals created at lascivious parties.
Tales of what goes on when the high and the mighty party hard gives the simmering anger of British veterans and working people a palpable focus and outlet - news of those vile bodies sporting about on unearned money and in the arms of powerful sinners is central to the plot; the main character is just one of three people who work their own ruin while writing about the dissolution of others for publisher Dan Aykroyd's newspaper empire.
Some folks here in IMDb remark about the characters not being as sympathetic as they had hoped. This betrays a lack of experience with the writing of Evelyn Waugh, who wrote caricatures, not characters.
Waugh's savage wit spares few of the people who populate his stories; Waugh is the anti-romantic Jack the Ripper, the Siva the Destroyer of British high society's pretensions, down to the scene in which Adam Fenwick-Symes and "Ginger" dicker over how much Nina Blount's affection is worth in pounds, shillings and pence (after all, Symes's inn bill had to be paid).
Waugh based one of his most hateful villains ("The Man Who Liked Dickens") on his own father - a very recognizable portrait of a venal and worthless old bastard that stunned those who knew Waugh (perhaps it stunned those who knew Waugh well less than it did the others... ).
This is perhaps the least acerbic of Waugh's stories. Stephen Fry works magic in bringing it to vibrant, entertaining life. It's Waugh for those who can't cope with Waugh's usual demolition of every character in his stories. If you've never seen a movie based on a Waugh story before, maybe this is a good start to his work.
The more obtund contemporary film adaptations of Waugh made in murky black and white converge on this almost Platonic ideal of a movie based on a Waugh story. The cinematography's splendid, the performances crisp and the pace taut. Emily Mortimer is properly reptilian as the desirable, shallow and fickle love-object Nina Blount, Stephen Campbell Moore earnest and sympathetic as striving and ineptly conniving Adam Fenwick-Symes, the cast in general bring Waugh's vision of the wicked, vapid high society scene of the 1930s to life adroitly.
Dan Aykroyd revels in the Beaverbrook-based character whaling away at the levers of power, David Tennant (the current incarnation of Doctor Who at this writing) is great as the obtuse but wealthy "Ginger", Peter O'Toole does a nice cameo as Nina's father, and the peripatetic Jim Broadbent puts in yeoman service.
Stockard Channing excels as a sociopathic rich American (every Waugh story has at least one). Her character, "Mrs. Melrose Ape," is an Aimee Semple MacPherson-type idiotic fundamentalist hypocrite touring wicked, pre-war Europe with a troupe of holy young girl singers, putting the Word of God to hokey rhyme. The words of the song "Ain't No Flies on the Lamb of God" may have been written by director Stephen Fry, but they are wicked satire in the Waughian spirit.
The vignettes of party life play nasty, amusing havoc with the social elite of pre-war Britain - well-placed clergymen sniff diffidently at cocaine and drink authoritatively, while His Majesty's statesmen are set adrift after their wives and daughters work their ruin in completely unnecessary scandals created at lascivious parties.
Tales of what goes on when the high and the mighty party hard gives the simmering anger of British veterans and working people a palpable focus and outlet - news of those vile bodies sporting about on unearned money and in the arms of powerful sinners is central to the plot; the main character is just one of three people who work their own ruin while writing about the dissolution of others for publisher Dan Aykroyd's newspaper empire.
Some folks here in IMDb remark about the characters not being as sympathetic as they had hoped. This betrays a lack of experience with the writing of Evelyn Waugh, who wrote caricatures, not characters.
Waugh's savage wit spares few of the people who populate his stories; Waugh is the anti-romantic Jack the Ripper, the Siva the Destroyer of British high society's pretensions, down to the scene in which Adam Fenwick-Symes and "Ginger" dicker over how much Nina Blount's affection is worth in pounds, shillings and pence (after all, Symes's inn bill had to be paid).
Waugh based one of his most hateful villains ("The Man Who Liked Dickens") on his own father - a very recognizable portrait of a venal and worthless old bastard that stunned those who knew Waugh (perhaps it stunned those who knew Waugh well less than it did the others... ).
This is perhaps the least acerbic of Waugh's stories. Stephen Fry works magic in bringing it to vibrant, entertaining life. It's Waugh for those who can't cope with Waugh's usual demolition of every character in his stories. If you've never seen a movie based on a Waugh story before, maybe this is a good start to his work.