"The Human Stain" is a failure because the Philip Roth novel on which it is based is a failure. Roth has been granted carte blanche to do whatever he wants; he is the Naked Emperor of American literature.
"The Human Stain" is the product of Roth's ego and attention deficit disorder. Roth's ego: characters are obsessed with Jews, because Roth is obsessed with his own Jewish identity. Naked, beautiful, young women throw themselves at wizened, physically unattractive college professors, because Roth is an older man. A novelist saves the day, because Roth is a novelist. There is not a single, three dimensional, believable female character. There are four melodramatic deaths. A character who had been a coward and a traitor in one of the first scenes accuses himself unbelievably during a eulogy in one of the last scenes. There are two scenes where very beautiful women perform private stripteases for ogling men porn for pseudo-intellectuals. Yawn.
Attention deficit disorder: the script attempts to address Clinton's impeachment, stereotypical "White Trash," crazed, homicidal, Vietnam veterans, the issue of passing, artistic burnout, college town hypocrisy, and political correctness. Even a gifted novelist would find it impossible to work all those themes into a coherent and effective narrative.
Roth drops the ball big time here; every theme he attempts is aborted. But, Roth is a genius, so if we aren't swept off our feet by the fruits of Roth's labor, it's because we are too small to appreciate his great genius. That, in a nutshell, is the naked emperor syndrome. Feh. Step aside. Make room for better writers.
Though "The Human Stain" is a failure, in spite of itself, it contains some worthy work. Wentworth Miller, as the young Coleman Silk, the character Antony Hopkins plays in advanced age, is stunning. Miller is supercharged with star power and it is to be hoped that he goes far. Ed Harris can do no wrong. He elevates and ignites every moment of his screen time that we are lucky enough to enjoy even when the character Harris is playing, as here, is a two-dimensional stereotype of a homicidal, wife beating, anti-Semitic, lower class white, Vietnam veteran. This is a stereotype so shallow a tyro writer could produce it based on watching grade B movies.
Nicole Kidman never escapes the two dimensional, derivative, and divorced from real life quality of her character, a foul-mouthed, chain smoking, poor white nymphomaniac with a craving for plump old men. If Roth gets his homicidal Vietnam Vet characters from B movies, he gets his female characters from pulp fiction. And just from the paperback *covers* of pulp fiction. Not even from reading the text. It's actually kinda scary to contemplate how divorced Roth and his readers are from real poor white people, real women, real Vietnam veterans.
There is a very fine early scene where Professor Coleman Silk (Anthony Hopkins) is berated and threatened by a committee of self-righteous, politically correct, hypocritical, gasbag, (redundant, I know) college professors who falsely accuse Silk of making a racist remark. The scene is very well played. But it is never anything more than an anecdote. Journalism has outstripped fiction's ability to comment on events like this. Want to read about politically correct shenanigans on campus? Read "Until Proved Innocent" about the legal and media lynching of the Duke lacrosse players. Roth's novel can't begin to match that account. As for Roth's stripteases? Free on the internet.
"The Human Stain" is the product of Roth's ego and attention deficit disorder. Roth's ego: characters are obsessed with Jews, because Roth is obsessed with his own Jewish identity. Naked, beautiful, young women throw themselves at wizened, physically unattractive college professors, because Roth is an older man. A novelist saves the day, because Roth is a novelist. There is not a single, three dimensional, believable female character. There are four melodramatic deaths. A character who had been a coward and a traitor in one of the first scenes accuses himself unbelievably during a eulogy in one of the last scenes. There are two scenes where very beautiful women perform private stripteases for ogling men porn for pseudo-intellectuals. Yawn.
Attention deficit disorder: the script attempts to address Clinton's impeachment, stereotypical "White Trash," crazed, homicidal, Vietnam veterans, the issue of passing, artistic burnout, college town hypocrisy, and political correctness. Even a gifted novelist would find it impossible to work all those themes into a coherent and effective narrative.
Roth drops the ball big time here; every theme he attempts is aborted. But, Roth is a genius, so if we aren't swept off our feet by the fruits of Roth's labor, it's because we are too small to appreciate his great genius. That, in a nutshell, is the naked emperor syndrome. Feh. Step aside. Make room for better writers.
Though "The Human Stain" is a failure, in spite of itself, it contains some worthy work. Wentworth Miller, as the young Coleman Silk, the character Antony Hopkins plays in advanced age, is stunning. Miller is supercharged with star power and it is to be hoped that he goes far. Ed Harris can do no wrong. He elevates and ignites every moment of his screen time that we are lucky enough to enjoy even when the character Harris is playing, as here, is a two-dimensional stereotype of a homicidal, wife beating, anti-Semitic, lower class white, Vietnam veteran. This is a stereotype so shallow a tyro writer could produce it based on watching grade B movies.
Nicole Kidman never escapes the two dimensional, derivative, and divorced from real life quality of her character, a foul-mouthed, chain smoking, poor white nymphomaniac with a craving for plump old men. If Roth gets his homicidal Vietnam Vet characters from B movies, he gets his female characters from pulp fiction. And just from the paperback *covers* of pulp fiction. Not even from reading the text. It's actually kinda scary to contemplate how divorced Roth and his readers are from real poor white people, real women, real Vietnam veterans.
There is a very fine early scene where Professor Coleman Silk (Anthony Hopkins) is berated and threatened by a committee of self-righteous, politically correct, hypocritical, gasbag, (redundant, I know) college professors who falsely accuse Silk of making a racist remark. The scene is very well played. But it is never anything more than an anecdote. Journalism has outstripped fiction's ability to comment on events like this. Want to read about politically correct shenanigans on campus? Read "Until Proved Innocent" about the legal and media lynching of the Duke lacrosse players. Roth's novel can't begin to match that account. As for Roth's stripteases? Free on the internet.