Interesting but ultimately unmoving drama (with quirks) has the title-named character, a rich writer who lives in plushy comfort, unable to get over his guilt of having money. When Charlie visits his Northern haunts, where the streets are filled with potholes and the surroundings match the sky--all in gray--we wonder, "Why is he so obsessed with his early poverty?" and "Why can't he get on with his life?" Director-star Albert Finney doesn't give us much to go on (or maybe you have to be British to understand the symbols inherent in British society) and most of his film feels like a put-on. Liza Minnelli has a small part as an American secretary, and she occasionally pushes her kooky "Americanisms" too far; however, though the role isn't much, Minnelli has a strange, slightly zonked/slightly exotic presence, and when she performs in a low-key she's appealing. As Mrs. Bubbles, Billie Whitelaw got most of the acclaim, but it's Liza we remember. As for the much-talked about finale, I thought it profound in its fantastic way, but, like the rest of "Charlie Bubbles", it exists to please and understand itself, leaving the rest of us on the outside looking in. ** from ****
