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Tess Carlisle ......... Shirley MacLaine
Doug Chesnic .......... Nicolas Cage
Earl
.................. Austin Pendleton
Barry Carlisle
........ Edward Albert
Howard Shaeffer ....... James Rebhorn
Frederick
............. Richard Griffiths
TriStar
presents a film directed by Hugh Wilson. Produced by Ned Tanen and Nancy Graham Tanen.
Written by Wilson and Peter Torokvei.
Photographed by Brian J. Reynolds. Edited by Sidney Levin.
Music by Michael Convertino. Running
This film is enormously satisfying
as entertainment. Shirley MacLaine gives a
wonderful performance here, I think the best in a fine career. I am not
wild about her occult philosophizing, any more than I am enthusiastic
about Jane Fonda's politics; but both ladies are
very substantial actresses. MacLaine here
provides a funny, yet realistic portrait of a woman who is both difficult
and likeable, nasty yet surprisingly loving,
apparently irrational, yet supremely rational in the context of the plot.
All these paradoxes require a performance of great nuance, and MacLaine provides it here.
Nicholas Cage also gives what may be
his most impressive performance to date. In the past, he has played a lot
of Wild and Crazy men. Here, for most of the film, his emotions are
tightly under control as he portrays an uptight, by-the-book
secret service agent. But it is evident that he could explode at
any moment, as he does at a few crucial points, especially once late
in the film.
The script is beautifully written,
and the humor is constant, though not the slightest bit heavy-handed. Tiny
bits of uneasiness in the characters for reasons known to the
audience produced much laughter. The film is remarkably balanced in
its comedy. It has a keen eye for the ridiculous elements in
various government procedures, but in the end it respects,
even vindicates them. It satirizes the uptightness
of the secret service, but it also shows that in one agent there is a lot
going on below the surface. Except for the villains of the piece,
every character, no matter how silly at moments, comes out lovable
in the end.
Cage plays Doug Chesnic,
assigned by the secret service to guard Tess
Carlisle, a former first lady, played by MacLaine. Tess gives Doug quite a hard time, requiring him to run
trivial errands, rebelling at petty rules, sneaking away from
her protectors, insulting Doug in various ways, often hitting
him hard with true but unwelcome insights about himself. But when he seeks
a new assignment, she calls the president, who then calls Doug and tells
him to stay with her and shape up. The Clinton-like president's annoyance
at having to play peacemaker between these two is hilarious.
When all the truth is out on the
table, Tess's eccentricities make perfect sense,
her maternal love for Doug becomes patent, and he breaks through all sorts
of standard procedures in order to save her life.
There is no God in this movie, no
reference to religion, no obvious theological theme, except, perhaps, the
effect of approaching death on behavior. Therefore, it was a real
challenge for this highly theological reviewer to come up with anything interesting
to say. But after some reflection, it is evident to me that there is a
very profound theological dimension here, doubtless quite contrary to the
intentions of the filmmakers.
Cornelius
Van Til taught that all non-Christian
thinkers fall into a kind of dialectic between rationalism (= "my
mind is the final standard of truth") and irrationalism
(="there is no ultimate truth"). These positions are formally
contradictory; yet naturalist thinkers need to appeal to both of them, and
they tend to hold them in tension. I have argued that the same pattern
can be seen in non-Christian political theory: a dialectic
between totalitarianism (= rationalism: society must be totally
under control of the rational elite) and anarchy (=irrationalism: nobody
has the wisdom to govern, so there should be no government at all).
Without appeal to divine revelation, non-Christian political thought and
practice vacillates constantly between these two extremes. Believers in
scripture know that God requires both authority and freedom in society,
and they know in general where those lines are to be drawn. Unbelievers do
not, so they vacillate from a belief in total control to advocacy of
total freedom.
Now if ever a film demonstrated the
totalitarian/anarchic dialectic, it is this one. The secret service people
are totalitarians for the most part. The film ridicules their
blind, unsmiling commitment to total control. Tess
is the anarchist, the free spirit, wanting no restraint at all,
manipulating events humorously and successfully (for the most part) to
control her controllers. But she knows (at the end, more than ever) she
must have some protection, and Doug comes to understand her need
for freedom. The film notes insightfully that total control
is impossible and that anarchy leads to disaster. But the
balance between the two is just as mysterious at the end as it is in
the beginning. I gather that the film wants to say that love is
the answer, but it is too smart to state such a truism
explicitly. What emerges is a kind of accommodation, but how can there be
any stable accommodation between anarchy and totalitarianism?
At the end of the film, when an
officious hospital orderly requires Tess to exit
in a wheelchair and she demurs, Doug solves the problem with a twofold
exhortation. To the orderly: "are the rules really that sacred?" and to Tess, "get in that wheelchair!"
Very funny, but also an excellent illustration of the tension which is the
main theme of the film. He is saying that rules aren't really sacred, but
we absolutely must accommodate ourselves to them.
The relation between Tess and Doug hits home, because it is essentially the
relation between government and all of us. We love our country and
appreciate its protections, but most of our concrete experiences with it
are exasperating.
Were Tess
and Doug Christians, their relationship would have been very different.
Love would have been an important part of it, no doubt, and that would
have gone a long way toward reconciling their divergent interests, as in
this film. But Christians also acknowledge rules, rules which are "sacred," and among
which love is the chief. A Christian Tess would
not have run away without protection, and a Secret Service
organized on Christian principles would have been more flexible,
knowing that they are servants: servants of God and of God's
people (Matt. 20:26).
The same benefits, and more, might
be expected from a really Christian government.
As for the theme of the approach of death: Tess has a brain tumor. Her odd behavior, wanting to play golf and have a picnic by the lake in the dead of winter, turns out in the end to result from a desire to have a few of her old enjoyments one more time before the end. One can hardly blame her, but it is a bit sad that these things are so important to her, and God's heaven so unimportant, as she approaches the end. The meaning of her life is personal freedom, anarchic freedom, which the film itself regards as ultimately disappointing. This movie comedy presents her as finally triumphant and happy, but a more careful look at the story offers for our meditation a sense of tragedy.