Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Philadelphia

 

Andrew Beckett ......... Tom Hanks

Joe Miller ............. Denzel Washington

Belinda Conine ......... Mary Steenburgen

Charles Wheeler ........ Jason Robards

Kenneth Killcoyne ...... Charles Glenn

Miguel Alvarez ......... Antonio Banderas

Walter Kenton .......... Robert Ridgely  

        TriStar presents a film directed by Jonathan Demme. Produced by Edward Saxon and Demme. Written by Ron Nyswaner. Photographed by Tak Fujimoto. Edited by Craig McKay. Music by Howard Shore. Running time: 119 minutes. Classified: PG- 13 (for some graphic language and thematic material). 

            This is Hollywood's first big AIDS movie, produced with top stars, a leading director, and much advertising. It has obtained some rave reviews. It is a disappointment to me, and not only because I oppose many views of the gay community. Although I enjoyed the rather touristy shots of Philadelphia, where I lived for some years, there wasn't much else about the movie that was interesting. 

            Andrew Beckett (Tom Hanks), brilliant young gay lawyer, has AIDS. And when his prestigious law firm finds out, someone steals an important document to make Beckett appear careless, whereupon the law firm fires him, supposedly for incompetence. Beckett thinks he was fired for having AIDS, which is, of course, the truth. He sues the firm, under the representation of Joe Miller (Denzel Washington). Miller doesn't like gays, but eventually he takes the case and wins. Meanwhile, Beckett dies of AIDS. That's it. 

            If you attend the movie expecting a great drama of legal warfare, you will be disappointed. The trial contains no surprises, no particularly interesting strategies. What convinces the jury is a point that was obvious from the very start of the movie. There is a lot of glowering on both sides, with the firm lawyers saying mean things about gays and whatnot. In other words, the legal process is a bore. 

            Beckett's death, therefore, has to bear most of the burden of supplying interest. There is one remarkable scene, where Beckett and Miller are working on the case at Beckett's home. Beckett, who by this point is close to death, plays an opera record, narrating a beautiful solo by Maria Callas. He translates it and explains the plot to Miller, who is not an opera fan. In the description of the operatic situation he bares his soul to Miller and, we gather, for the first time helps Miller to see him as a person. 

            But the rest of Beckett's suffering is as tiresome as the trial. The camera lingers in the hospital as each member of his large family (including, of course, Beckett's gay lover) hugs and kisses him. They are all on his side, and this big "traditional values" family just tugs at our heartstrings, begging us to love their Andrew. The whole movie is like this: it seems to shout loudly at us, "you just gotta love this guy," without giving us any specific reasons to love him. In truth, he comes across as nothing more than another smart lawyer who got into a bad situation. 

            Similarly the viewpoint of the film, like the plot elements, is predictable political correctness. Beckett is a victim, pure and simple. Anyone who suggests that he bears any responsibility for his condition is denounced as a bigot. Anyone who has some doubts about the consensus-view that AIDS cannot be spread by "casual contact" is also bigoted. The firm's action is simply a denial of civil rights. So the film is as dull in intellectual interest as it is in plot. 

            It's hard to conceive how this film could have come from the director of "Silence of the Lambs," in which the audience was constantly kept on edge by plot twists, riveting images and intricate moral ironies. That does, however, happen sometimes when a director gets earnest and ideological. Hanks, Washington and the minor actors do a pretty good job with their characters. Jason Robards' turn as the head of the wicked law firm was a mere caricature, as were the other firm members. I am reminded of "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner," the 1967 movie about interracial marriage. It boasted Stanley Kramer's direction, Sidney Poitier, and the legendary couple, Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn. But to my mind there was little of interest in the film. It was a liberal tract, with an entirely predictable plot and incredibly wonderful people. 

            No doubt AIDS is a terrible thing, and we should rightly sympathize with its victims. But it will not be conquered as long as our society insists on treating homosexuality as a valid alternate life-style, and AIDS as a condition protected by legally enforced silence and treated as a civil rights issue. That is the treatment this film advocates. As such, the film will do more harm than good in the battle against AIDS.