Bliss

Ray Lawrence's adaptation of Peter Carey's novel is one of those rare birds - a perfect screen adaptation of a great book.

Harry Joy, an advertising executive, has a near-fatal heart attack - but when he recovers he is convinced he is in hell. And why not? His bitchy wife is having a torrid affair right under his nose, his son is trading drugs for sex with his own sister, and his ad agency represents the most destructive and polluting companies in town. Harry's life spirals out of control until he breaks away from his awful family and finds redemption in his love for the beautiful Honey Barbara.

Filled with extraordinary images, the film captures the surreal mood, the sense of hidden menace and the outrageous black humour of Carey's book, and brings the characters vividly to life.

Barry Otto, one of Australia's greatest actors, is perfect as Harry and he is brilliantly supported by an outstanding cast, including Lynette Curran as his horrible wife, Miles Buchanan as his evil and depraved son, Gia Carides as the daughter, and especially Helen Jones as his hippy 'innamorata', Honey Barbara.

If you can find it, the longer "director's cut" version is a must-see, for the amazing police-station scene - inexplicably removed from the initial release version - where Harry, under arrest after a series of bizarre and hilarious incidents, transfixes the cops with one of his famous stories. Barry Otto delivers an electrifying monologue, in one long, unedited scene, with the camera gradually pulling closer and closer to an extreme closeup of his face.

"Bliss" is director Ray Lawrence's only feature film to date - but one perfect film is better than ten duds!

The film "American Beauty" has so many similarities to Bliss that the resemblence is surely more than coincidental. Both are great films but Bliss is more cerebral and overall a superior film.

Enjoy it. A must see.

There's an awful lot going on in "Bliss". I've never seen a film that takes so many directions and so many plot turns and twists while still maintaining a general coherence of purpose. It manages this only because it means what it says. Unlike a lot of similarly abstract films, there's not really an agenda to be weird just because it's possible. The direction and cinematography surprisingly doesn't go for the shocking. Instead, the look of the film is natural. Real lighting, normal colours. So all the fantastical stuff stands out all the more.

Barry Otto plays a man with a lot of personal conflict, and a strange sort of charisma. He's a storyteller above all, and that's what "Bliss" is also most interested in. Creating real people first, then putting them into the plot. Everyone is developed as much as they need to be, fleshed out to surprising degrees. Barry Otto is very good as the storyteller, but the really surprising bit is the performance of Helen Jones.

There's certainly flaws to the film as a whole. It goes too far down certain trails, gives too much importance to some events that don't necessarily lead forward. But the best parts are amongst the best bits of any film of this style, so the missteps can be forgiven. If you like slightly messy, mostly brilliant, mostly forgotten films, "Bliss" is perfect for you.

If Lawrence had cut out a third of the film it would have been better. Within reason, I think he could have got rid of ANY third. A third of the storyline could have gone (the beginning, the middle, the end, or fragments throughout), or a sixth of the storyline plus a sixth of the character development, or a third of the quirkiness, or a third of the odd devices (straight-to-the-camera narrative could have stayed on condition the dream sequences went, or vice versa, or some such). It's like the plate of an overly ambitious diner at a banquet, with quail eggs, a potato dumpling, salad, a banana fritter, baked trout, a small slice of quiche, a strawberry, eggplant, satayed parsnip with brown rice, two roast chestnuts and four kinds of cheese. Thankfully, the elements are positioned so as not to ruin one another's flavour, but there's just too many of them.

But at least this is a fault on the right side.

It's as if "Bliss" were a repository, or a central font, of all of the offbeat black humour, all the odd characters, and all the quirky local colour, to have appeared in every Australian film made since. This isn't a bad thing. (My earlier complaint is that its ferociously luxuriant growth could have been cut back by a third and it would STILL have contained all the offbeat black humour, etc.) What makes it great is that it's more sincere than any of its imitators. A mere seventeen years old, it seems to date from a magical, all-but-forgotten pre-digital age, when we REALLY made films, and didn't just play at doing so.

On reflection: I don't care if there IS too much here. So much of it is so good, like the prim, fascist manager of the lunatic ward, the scene in which the cancer map is unveiled (Lawrence makes much out of a mere conversation in a hotel room), and the "love letter" to Honey Barbara. The strength which flows through the film's limbs is probably inherited from the era in which it was made. This decade (from a few years into the 1980s until a few years into the 1990s) saw Australian society at its most optimistic, tolerant and decent. We've come a long way downhill in the short time since.

I was just killing time and ended up spotting the link to Bliss. If I am asked what is my favorite movie I always say bliss. I could not believe that so few people have reviewed this masterpiece. This isn't a movie for everyone some of it is quite dark in nature but the characterizations are brilliant. Even though I hadn't seen the movie for many years when I saw that it was going to be shown television a few years back I realized before I saw it again that I knew Harry Joy told stories I remembered most of the plot but just couldn't wait to see it again.

If you like your movies a bit different this is really different and well worth a try if your adventurous.

Other movies I like include Babel Das Boot, Dr Strangelove, V, American Beauty, Being John Malkovich, Bad Santa.