In the summer of 2010 I found myself on a transatlantic flight with a book, "Christopher and His Kind" and, coincidentally, a list of inflight movies that included, "Cabaret". I had never seen the film nor heard of the book. I still don't recall how I ended up with it on that flight. I do recall turning to my husband halfway through the book and saying these words, "Holy crap. I wish I knew how to write a screenplay. This book would make an amazing film." It still would.
Of all the failings of this film, and the downfall of every bad film, it is the weak screenplay that doomed it. It is trivial. And the source material, the novel, is anything but trivial. The screenplay is a grocery list of the parade of horribles that led to WWII. We already know them and half of the measly 87 minutes of this film did not need to be taken up by laying them out for the billionth time; and in the most hackneyed ways. You've got the Chrystal Nacht, the Swaztika banners, the good boy turned brownshirt, even the camera shot framing the main character through the Star of David painted onto a Jewish shop window. No imagination anywhere. And that brings us to the second worst failing of this film, it's star, Matt Smith. His Christopher Isherwood is little more than a potted plant with either a winsome or surprised look on his face that alternates A, B, A, B, throughout. No one who writes as well, or lived as interesting a life, as Christopher Isherwood could ever be so dull. The actual facts of Isherwood's life during this period is riveting. This screenplay, and it's lead actor, aren't.
I would not recommend this film to anyone but it would be unfair not to mention here that there were several excellent performances in the supporting cast. Imogen Poots (what a name...) as Jean Ross was everything that Sally Bowles was, and Liza Minnell (according to Isherwood himself) wasn't: half talented and full of unearned confidence. Lindsay Duncan as Isherwood's mother was cold comfort, which is to say, no comfort. Her damp love did nothing for her sons both of whom fled from her when they were able. Pipp Carter with very little screen time as Wysten Auden, made a strong impression as Isherwood's best friend; and depressed, religiously tortured, brooding, confidant. But it was an interesting and bizarre performance by Perry Milward, as Christopher's younger brother, that stood out most. The character, Richard Isherwood, is odd. And as a viewer you're not quite sure why. He knows he on the outside looking in, and that is possibly the source of his gentle humanity, even if he is slightly "off". Milward gives a quirky, and interesting, performance that does more to define the dysfunctional family dynamics than his lines ever intended.
Unfortunately, for this film, a few good performances in the supporting cast can't save it from a shallow understanding of the story by the screenwriter and a listless performance by the title character. Where would "Cabaret" be if Liza Minnelli were bad. Nowhere. If you are interested in this story read the book and watch "Cabaret". My only regret is that I didn't discover either of them until forty years after they came into existence. They are as relevant today as they were when they were made. This film won't be around four minutes from now.
Of all the failings of this film, and the downfall of every bad film, it is the weak screenplay that doomed it. It is trivial. And the source material, the novel, is anything but trivial. The screenplay is a grocery list of the parade of horribles that led to WWII. We already know them and half of the measly 87 minutes of this film did not need to be taken up by laying them out for the billionth time; and in the most hackneyed ways. You've got the Chrystal Nacht, the Swaztika banners, the good boy turned brownshirt, even the camera shot framing the main character through the Star of David painted onto a Jewish shop window. No imagination anywhere. And that brings us to the second worst failing of this film, it's star, Matt Smith. His Christopher Isherwood is little more than a potted plant with either a winsome or surprised look on his face that alternates A, B, A, B, throughout. No one who writes as well, or lived as interesting a life, as Christopher Isherwood could ever be so dull. The actual facts of Isherwood's life during this period is riveting. This screenplay, and it's lead actor, aren't.
I would not recommend this film to anyone but it would be unfair not to mention here that there were several excellent performances in the supporting cast. Imogen Poots (what a name...) as Jean Ross was everything that Sally Bowles was, and Liza Minnell (according to Isherwood himself) wasn't: half talented and full of unearned confidence. Lindsay Duncan as Isherwood's mother was cold comfort, which is to say, no comfort. Her damp love did nothing for her sons both of whom fled from her when they were able. Pipp Carter with very little screen time as Wysten Auden, made a strong impression as Isherwood's best friend; and depressed, religiously tortured, brooding, confidant. But it was an interesting and bizarre performance by Perry Milward, as Christopher's younger brother, that stood out most. The character, Richard Isherwood, is odd. And as a viewer you're not quite sure why. He knows he on the outside looking in, and that is possibly the source of his gentle humanity, even if he is slightly "off". Milward gives a quirky, and interesting, performance that does more to define the dysfunctional family dynamics than his lines ever intended.
Unfortunately, for this film, a few good performances in the supporting cast can't save it from a shallow understanding of the story by the screenwriter and a listless performance by the title character. Where would "Cabaret" be if Liza Minnelli were bad. Nowhere. If you are interested in this story read the book and watch "Cabaret". My only regret is that I didn't discover either of them until forty years after they came into existence. They are as relevant today as they were when they were made. This film won't be around four minutes from now.