Tristram Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story.
Apparently, Laurence Stern’s serialised novel “The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman,” (begun in 1760) has been deemed “unfilmable.” Although I own the book, it is in my massive “unread” heap, as opposed to the diminutive and Nick Hornby-laden “read” heap. So, for research for this review, I dutifully read it. It, meaning the book’s introduction. (Hey! Cut me some slack! It’s 450 pages of insanely small print, people!)
The introduction says: “[Sterne’s] novel, which consists of an amorphous mass of inconsequential incidents, sentimental episodes, jokes, musings, reminiscences and countless hilarious digressions into side issues of the vaguest tangential relevance, has no beginning, middle or end… Sterne notably lacks any real interest in storytelling and his bizarre technique illustrates his adherence to… the `stream of consciousness` approach of the twentieth-century novelists.”
Flipping through this book, I see glimpses of Kurt Vonnegut, and see more and more why it might be called unflimable. For example, there is a black page after the death of a character (named Yorick – awesome), and squiggly lines indicating the path of stories.
Damn. What comes out is a very creative and imaginatively-written film which documents the poor cast and crew trying to film this “amorphous mass.” They are in way over their heads and nothing seems to go right. Well, at one point the producers luck out and get Gillian Anderson to play a part on one day’s notice (even though, of course, her scenes end up on the cutting room floor).
The opening scene has Steve Coogan (of Alan Partridge fame), who plays Tristram Shandy, in a makeup chair being fitted for a nose prosthesis. He is trying to make his supporting castmate, Rob Brydon (who are both playing themselves in this sequence) understand why he is not leading man material. Rob then bears his teeth to Steve for the rest of the scene, begging Steve to define what colour of yellow they are. Perfec’. Coogan also agonizes over his height, insisting that he should be taller than everyone else because it's artistically sensitive, but he comes across as frantically insecure, which, of course, he is. See picture of Coogan and Brydon in wardrobe, testing the height of their 18th-century shoes.
Tristram Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story (2005) is a very British comedy. You must follow what I mean: annoying, idiosyncratic, and antagonistic characters insult one another while ambling though their egocentric lives. I expected Basil Fawlty to show up. There is some sense of 1960s-style absurdist comedy (no sexy parties, but Tristram is, at one point, hung upside down in a womb), but this, too, is very British.
A Cock and Bull Story successfully adapts “Tristram Shandy” because instead of attempting to force a disparate narrative into a three-act structure, the writers let chaos reign, and the disorganisation of the film’s production (which the audience gets to see) mirrors the novel’s original tone. Some might site This Is Spinal Tap (1984) to fill in the blanks of this odd configuration, but I don’t think this film would be considered a bona fide mockumentary (pardon the oxymoron). I loved this movie, but the more I try to define what it is, the more I come up empty handed. It’s probably exactly what Laurence Sterne would have wanted.
Released on DVD on July 11th, and if you enjoy dry British fare, check it out.
The introduction says: “[Sterne’s] novel, which consists of an amorphous mass of inconsequential incidents, sentimental episodes, jokes, musings, reminiscences and countless hilarious digressions into side issues of the vaguest tangential relevance, has no beginning, middle or end… Sterne notably lacks any real interest in storytelling and his bizarre technique illustrates his adherence to… the `stream of consciousness` approach of the twentieth-century novelists.”
Flipping through this book, I see glimpses of Kurt Vonnegut, and see more and more why it might be called unflimable. For example, there is a black page after the death of a character (named Yorick – awesome), and squiggly lines indicating the path of stories.
Damn. What comes out is a very creative and imaginatively-written film which documents the poor cast and crew trying to film this “amorphous mass.” They are in way over their heads and nothing seems to go right. Well, at one point the producers luck out and get Gillian Anderson to play a part on one day’s notice (even though, of course, her scenes end up on the cutting room floor).
The opening scene has Steve Coogan (of Alan Partridge fame), who plays Tristram Shandy, in a makeup chair being fitted for a nose prosthesis. He is trying to make his supporting castmate, Rob Brydon (who are both playing themselves in this sequence) understand why he is not leading man material. Rob then bears his teeth to Steve for the rest of the scene, begging Steve to define what colour of yellow they are. Perfec’. Coogan also agonizes over his height, insisting that he should be taller than everyone else because it's artistically sensitive, but he comes across as frantically insecure, which, of course, he is. See picture of Coogan and Brydon in wardrobe, testing the height of their 18th-century shoes.
Tristram Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story (2005) is a very British comedy. You must follow what I mean: annoying, idiosyncratic, and antagonistic characters insult one another while ambling though their egocentric lives. I expected Basil Fawlty to show up. There is some sense of 1960s-style absurdist comedy (no sexy parties, but Tristram is, at one point, hung upside down in a womb), but this, too, is very British.
A Cock and Bull Story successfully adapts “Tristram Shandy” because instead of attempting to force a disparate narrative into a three-act structure, the writers let chaos reign, and the disorganisation of the film’s production (which the audience gets to see) mirrors the novel’s original tone. Some might site This Is Spinal Tap (1984) to fill in the blanks of this odd configuration, but I don’t think this film would be considered a bona fide mockumentary (pardon the oxymoron). I loved this movie, but the more I try to define what it is, the more I come up empty handed. It’s probably exactly what Laurence Sterne would have wanted.
Released on DVD on July 11th, and if you enjoy dry British fare, check it out.
posted by Catherine at 8:55 a.m.
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