PG | Rottentomatoes.com Rating: 59% | 2002 |
(Mildly suggestive dialogue, brief nudity) | Picky Flicks Quote: "The ability to compress such a hilariously complex story into 97 minutes is...a tribute to Wilde's astounding economy with words." -John R. McEwen, Film Quips Online | RUNTIME: 1 hrs. 37 mins. |
Visit:www.screenit.com for complete details | Movie Mood:  Frivolous |
The Importance of Being Earnest is a frothy, frilly, frolic of a movie—the kind that makes you raise an eyebrow (sometimes two) and shake your head in dismay at the unrealistic antics of its characters. So, if it’s so silly, why am I recommending it?
Because sometimes silly is fun, especially when the dialogue comes courtesy of Oscar Wilde’s manically clever mind. And despite the fact that it’s a movie where boys and girls make doe-eyes at each and declare their adoration in ridiculously schmoopy (Seinfeld, anyone?) fashion, it’s not just a film for the fairer sex. My husband came away chuckling and saying he liked it a lot. Again, the movie’s saving grace is its dialogue, which is full of double entendres (all it means is a phrase with two meanings; it doesn’t have to be dirty, folks!), oxymorons, and other fun little turns of phrase.
The plot, such as it is, centers on Jack—aka John Worthing—a wealthy country gentleman, and his troublesome relationship with his wayward and entirely fictional town-dwelling brother, Earnest. You see, Jack, has invented Earnest to have a ready excuse to pop up to town and escape the boredom of quiet country life.
While on one such excursion, he encounters Algy—aka Algernon (yes, you read that right) Moncrieff, a ne’er-do-well friend who is fascinated by Jack’s phantom brother, in no small part because Algy has a similar invention called Bunbury. Bunbury is a chronic invalid who lives in the country and can be taken deathly ill at a moment’s notice, thus giving Algy an excuse to scamper away to play anytime some unpleasant scenario arises—say, a tea party hosted by his insufferably overbearing Aunt Augusta.
The thing is, Jack doesn’t mind Aunt Augusta that much, or at the very least, he has no objection whatsoever to Aunt Augusta’s comely daughter, Gwendolyn, and will certainly put up with the old lady’s moods in order to be close to dear Gwennie.
Of the two irresponsible men, Jack (Colin Firth) is less so. Neither is an intellectual heavyweight or a moral paragon by any stretch, but, whereas Algy (a suitably foppish Rupert Everett) spends his days ducking into doorways and leaping over fences to avoid his creditors (I’m sorry, but if you really want it back, why would you send tubby, middle-aged fellows in constricting black suits to chase your money down?), Jack manages his money well and has every intention of marrying Gwendolyn. The best Algy can do in terms of love is admit to an intense fascination with the idea of meeting Jack's 18-year-old ward, Cecily (Reese Witherspoon, adding the twist of a strained English accent to her air-headed Elle Woods persona).
Wilde is known more for his tongue-twistingly good dialogue than his credulous plot development (in fact, the more outlandish the coincidences, the better it seems), so it helps to know the material’s source when Algy manages to weasel his way into Jack’s household by claiming to be Jack’s recalcitrant brother, Earnest, on precisely the same day that Jack decides he must kill Earnest off before he causes irreparable damage to Jack’s chances with Gwendolyn. Watching Jack’s expression morph from down-in-the-mouth woe to disbelieving exasperation when Algy comes strolling up hale and hearty, claiming to be Earnest while Jack is supposedly holding Earnest ashes in an urn is funny indeed.
Because sometimes silly is fun, especially when the dialogue comes courtesy of Oscar Wilde’s manically clever mind. And despite the fact that it’s a movie where boys and girls make doe-eyes at each and declare their adoration in ridiculously schmoopy (Seinfeld, anyone?) fashion, it’s not just a film for the fairer sex. My husband came away chuckling and saying he liked it a lot. Again, the movie’s saving grace is its dialogue, which is full of double entendres (all it means is a phrase with two meanings; it doesn’t have to be dirty, folks!), oxymorons, and other fun little turns of phrase.
The plot, such as it is, centers on Jack—aka John Worthing—a wealthy country gentleman, and his troublesome relationship with his wayward and entirely fictional town-dwelling brother, Earnest. You see, Jack, has invented Earnest to have a ready excuse to pop up to town and escape the boredom of quiet country life.
While on one such excursion, he encounters Algy—aka Algernon (yes, you read that right) Moncrieff, a ne’er-do-well friend who is fascinated by Jack’s phantom brother, in no small part because Algy has a similar invention called Bunbury. Bunbury is a chronic invalid who lives in the country and can be taken deathly ill at a moment’s notice, thus giving Algy an excuse to scamper away to play anytime some unpleasant scenario arises—say, a tea party hosted by his insufferably overbearing Aunt Augusta.
The thing is, Jack doesn’t mind Aunt Augusta that much, or at the very least, he has no objection whatsoever to Aunt Augusta’s comely daughter, Gwendolyn, and will certainly put up with the old lady’s moods in order to be close to dear Gwennie.
Of the two irresponsible men, Jack (Colin Firth) is less so. Neither is an intellectual heavyweight or a moral paragon by any stretch, but, whereas Algy (a suitably foppish Rupert Everett) spends his days ducking into doorways and leaping over fences to avoid his creditors (I’m sorry, but if you really want it back, why would you send tubby, middle-aged fellows in constricting black suits to chase your money down?), Jack manages his money well and has every intention of marrying Gwendolyn. The best Algy can do in terms of love is admit to an intense fascination with the idea of meeting Jack's 18-year-old ward, Cecily (Reese Witherspoon, adding the twist of a strained English accent to her air-headed Elle Woods persona).
Wilde is known more for his tongue-twistingly good dialogue than his credulous plot development (in fact, the more outlandish the coincidences, the better it seems), so it helps to know the material’s source when Algy manages to weasel his way into Jack’s household by claiming to be Jack’s recalcitrant brother, Earnest, on precisely the same day that Jack decides he must kill Earnest off before he causes irreparable damage to Jack’s chances with Gwendolyn. Watching Jack’s expression morph from down-in-the-mouth woe to disbelieving exasperation when Algy comes strolling up hale and hearty, claiming to be Earnest while Jack is supposedly holding Earnest ashes in an urn is funny indeed.
To further complicate matters Earnest (AKA Algy) immediately falls head over heels for pretty little Cecily, who does her fair share of fawning in return. She even informs Algy after he abruptly proposes that they have been engaged for months (via the fantasies she inscribes in her diary about a tempestuous romance with Jack’s no-good brother).
Also, there’s the matter of both womens’ obsesessions with the name Earnest. They love it. To them, it represents absolute credulity—an especially unfortunate belief considering that the two men who are claiming Earnest as their own name are neither of them named Earnest nor are they the least bit concerned about pesky matters such as truth in relationships—only about being found out.
There’s a lot more nonsense about Jack’s needing to find out his true identity (he was found in a railway station—the Brighton Line—in a “rather capacious handbag”) to satisfy Aunt Augusta’s need for verification of pedigree before she’ll allow her daughter to “marry into a cloakroom and form an alliance with a parcel,” a crazy old schoolmarm and a rector’s mildly disturbing love for each other, and how they all fit neatly together like so many formerly jagged puzzle pieces by the end.
But I’ll leave all of that for your enjoyment. What you most need to know about The Importance of Being Earnest is that it’s good, clean fun (outside of an egregiously unnecessary shot of a bum-tattoo) with better, faster, and wittier dialogue than you’re likely to hear practically anywhere outside of an Oscar Wilde movie.
Until next Wednesday, stay picky! Your mind will thank you later.
Also, there’s the matter of both womens’ obsesessions with the name Earnest. They love it. To them, it represents absolute credulity—an especially unfortunate belief considering that the two men who are claiming Earnest as their own name are neither of them named Earnest nor are they the least bit concerned about pesky matters such as truth in relationships—only about being found out.
There’s a lot more nonsense about Jack’s needing to find out his true identity (he was found in a railway station—the Brighton Line—in a “rather capacious handbag”) to satisfy Aunt Augusta’s need for verification of pedigree before she’ll allow her daughter to “marry into a cloakroom and form an alliance with a parcel,” a crazy old schoolmarm and a rector’s mildly disturbing love for each other, and how they all fit neatly together like so many formerly jagged puzzle pieces by the end.
But I’ll leave all of that for your enjoyment. What you most need to know about The Importance of Being Earnest is that it’s good, clean fun (outside of an egregiously unnecessary shot of a bum-tattoo) with better, faster, and wittier dialogue than you’re likely to hear practically anywhere outside of an Oscar Wilde movie.
Until next Wednesday, stay picky! Your mind will thank you later.
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