DEAN SPANLEY (UK/New Zealand/Cayman Islands,2008)
Wednesday, 30th September 2009

To tell or not to tell? When that question confronts a film critic it usually relates to one particular issue, namely whether or not to disclose how a movie ends. Just occasionally it concerns an unexpected plot twist that is important but may not come at the very end of the movie, but in either case the right answer to the question is almost always that it is better left unsaid for fear of spoiling the enjoyment of those who understandably prefer to be taken by surprise when viewing the film. However, the case of Dean Spanley is, I believe, unique in that the question arises not in connection with disclosing some special feature of the plot but in saying anything about the exact nature of the story being told. The fact is that if one were to disclose the pivot of the piece, the basic idea on which the tale turns, one might well discourage people from coming and enjoying a film that has rightly been applauded by many critics. What if described might sound mawkish or irritatingly silly and whimsical proves amazingly effective when you see the film, and that’s why the reviewer in Time Out acclaimed Dean Spanley as “a genuine and surprising pleasure”. Consequently I will follow my instinct here and use this note to explain some of the attraction of the movie while yet remaining deliberately elusive as to its basic concept.

In approaching this work obliquely, one can begin by talking about its origins. The film is based on a novel by Lord Dunsany written in 1936 but set in the Edwardian era. That work was entitled My Talks with Dean Spanley. The tale is set in a cathedral town in England although this film version originated in New Zealand since it was there that it caught the attention of the producer Matthew Metcalfe who brought on board as director Toa Fraser whose father was Fijian. The story as told here is narrated by Henshawe Fisk (Jeremy Northam) and the town in question is the home of his aged father, Horatio (Peter O’Toole). Each week the son pays a dutiful visit to his father, but these occasions rarely give any pleasure to him so finding some form of variation to it is always attractive. That’s how it comes about that on one such day Henshawe persuades Horatio that they should attend a most unusual event: the Nawab of Ranjiput (Ramon Tikaram) lives nearby and he has invited a swami (Art Malik) to give a lecture. Being the one who suggested attending, Henshawe attempts to see some merit in the talk given, but Horatio’s response to the event is characteristic in that he is waspish and highly dismissive of the whole thing.

The main gain from attending – and that but a minor one as it seems at first – is that they have encountered two people unknown to them who were also present. One is an Australian named J.J.Wrather (Bryan Brown) and the other is the new Dean of St. Justus, Dean Spanley (Sam Neill). The latter subsequently crosses Henshawe’s path again and starts to arouse his curiosity. For one thing there’s the fact that the Dean should be interested in the swami thus showing that he is open to ideas unrelated to his own religion, but there are also certain comments that are made - hardly more than hints really - that make Henshawe eager to know more about Dean Spanley and his history. He soon realises that the Dean’s partiality to a drink is the way to get him to open up and eventually he is able through Wrather to lay hands on some Imperial Tokay which is the Dean’s tipple of choice. This strategy works in that it does indeed loosen the Dean’s tongue, but what emerges then certainly takes Henshawe by surprise.

The telling of this tale on film is immaculate and it plays as a literate and often witty comedy performed by a great cast at the top of their form (in addition to the characters already mentioned we encounter Horatio Fisk’s long-standing housekeeper, Mrs. Brimley, and this is a subsidiary role that is quite admirably played by Judy Parfitt). The film is also aided by the helpful music score provided by Don McGlashan. But the biggest surprise is in one sense what the writer Alan Sharp has brought to the screenplay. Sharp is a Scot who has often worked in Hollywood and whose diverse credits include the off-beat western The Hired Hand (made in 1971 by Peter Fonda but screened by us on its reissue in 2004) and Arthur Penn’s classic drama Night Moves starring Gene Hackman (1974). What makes his contribution here so remarkable is the fact that the film’s narrator, Henshawe Fisk, does not appear in the novel – or so I am told. Bringing him in is not just a change in the structure however but something that totally alters the nature of the piece. Although we learn early on that Henshawe had a brother who died in the Boer War and that their mother subsequently died of grief (facts that do much to explain why Horatio Fisk is such a withdrawn figure, a cynic detached from life), the humour in the film suggests a comparatively light-weight work – indeed, the more fanciful side of the tale has caused some to describe it as a shaggy dog story. That would, however, be a misleading description because what Sharp has done is to make the father/son relationship a key element in the work and this results in a film that is not only amusing but unexpectedly touching too.

The film’s success thus stems from a number of elements. Toa Fisher’s direction finds him handling the material with a sureness of touch and tone vital in a tale of this kind while Sharp’s script is admirably civilised and stands as a reminder of how few screenplays today can be regarded as genuinely literate. As for the playing, the entire cast provide a superb ensemble with great performances from all of them. Some have singled out Sam Neill, that most reliable of actors, for his interpretation of the role of the Dean, but to my mind, however strong the competition, the film belongs to Peter O’Toole. These days he looks old and fragile and to see some actors in that state is saddening. Not so with O’Toole. Here, just as much as in the recent Venus, he proves as commanding as ever: the precision of his performance is a joy and it proves that this is an actor who, whatever his appearance might suggest to the contrary, is fully aware of what he is doing every step of the way. If there’s one other ingredient that contributes to our pleasure, it is the sheer originality of the piece, one which seems to have been taken on by everybody involved in the filming as a labour of love. Quite simply there is no other work to which Dean Spanley can be compared and there are few films of which that can be said.
Programme Note by Mansel Stimpson.