Cinema
Wittgenstein (ICA) Indochine (`12', selected cinemas) All green
to me
Vanessa Letts
Ldwig Wittgenstein is a prime target for a film biography or even a musical. The genius philosopher was beleaguered by his own sexuality and class; his life was extreme and full of contradictions; he wrote in aphorismp, The first thought is that the film isn't hill as bad as it might have been. Derek Jarman's biography spares us the Merchant Ivory clichés mist shots of King's College, Cambridge or, worse, of Wittgenstein furiously scribbling away in a notebook or, worse still, of sur- reptitious encounters in public toilets.
Wittgenstein's deceptively simple one- liners have been incorporated into the script (by Terry Eagleton) in a reasonably intelligent manner. They come unexpected- ly, and sometimes with bathos, in the course of conversation rather than high- flown inquiry. Derek Jarman resolutely refuses to glamorise philosophy or philoso- phers. Bloomsbury snobbishness is obvious- ly something of a hobby-horse. He caricatures the intellectual elite of Cain- bridge: Keynes is affable and absurd in a lilac suit; Russell is portrayed as a cantan- kerous sophisticate.
Though the film itself addresses philo- sophical ideas, Jarman often leaves them dangling. His use of a black background allows tableaux to float, disembodied, like mental events in Wittgenstein's picture the- ory of language. But this minimalism is not rigorously carried through. Sets and char- acters are often half-stylised, and the sound-track is incongruously naturalistic.
In the face of so many thorny philosophi- cal problems, Jarman always seems to resort to humour. The film's preface, 'If people did not sometimes do silly things, nothing intelligent would get done', is a justification for a succession of jokey lan- guage games. These include the appear- ance of a green Martian (Nabil Shaban) called Mr Green. Thus, tautologically, green is green and Green is green. Which wryly refers us to Wittgenstein's thought on private language and names, and makes a literal stab at the alienation of philosophi- cal thought. (It's all green to me). The film does not give you a profound grasp of Wittgenstein's philosophy. On the other hand, Karl Johnson's excellent perfor- mance as Wittgenstein is great compensa- tion. Intense, contrary and ridiculous by turn, he provides a constant relief from Jar- man's more whimsical excesses, In strong contrast to Wittgenstein, Regis Wargnier's Oscar-nominated award-win- ning Indochine is the story of two women, one inheritance, the man they love, his plastic charm, their interwoven destinies, the tragedy-strewn rubber plantation they inhabit, but above all, of the 36 different outfits worn by Catherine Deneuve in the course of 154 minutes. Indochine comes to Britain in time for Oscar week. And, appropriately enough, just as another bright new sunset for world cinema is dawning, Wargnier has made his own strik- ing blow for mediocrity with the exact film equivalent of a steamy airport novel:
The time: the 30 years of turbulence, love, war and colonial decline that spans the high peak of classic fashion design in France and the end of French rule in Indochina.
The place: the huge, encompassing saga of timeless, classic fashions is set against the backdrop of crumbling, eventful, exotic, rain- tossed French Indochina.
The people: Eliane (Catherine Deneuve). Controlled, defiant, cold, tempestuous, her look is defined but uncomplicated. Unable to accept her daughter Camille's passion for the man she loves, she wears a timeless collection of languid florals, sensual chiffons, and classic ever-youthful mix-and-match separates.
Princess Camille (Linh Dam Pham): Submis- sive, idealistic, 'inscrutably' beautiful, dense, with an inner resilience, she sparkles relent- lessly in pert peignoir and girlish tea-dresses.
And the man they love: Jean Baptiste: Sport- ing a crisp, white naval look, he finds his real self in fatherhood and a pret-a-porter range of ethnic tunics.
What a profound comment all this is on the emergence of Communist Vietnam.
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