CRUSOE
Reviewed by David N. Butterworth
Copyright 1989 David N. Butterworth/The Summer Pennsylvanian
There have been many film adaptations of Daniel Defoe's classic novel about the enigmatic castaway. These variations range from straightforward translation (Luis Bunuel's THE ADVENTURES OF ROBINSON CRUSOE) to sci-fi parable (the 1964 ROBINSON CRUSOE ON MARS) to racially-pointed satire (MAN FRIDAY).
CRUSOE, the latest interpretation of this saga, is more in keeping with Bunuel's version, and therefore the book itself, but it suffers from deliberate pacing and a shallow, uninspired viewpoint.
The twist here is that Crusoe is portrayed as a Virginian slave trader who journeys to the island of Guinea in the hope of purchasing low-priced captives. Aidan Quinn plays Crusoe, and is in fine acting form. But his boyish features, complete with baby blue eyes, are a little distracting, as is his thick, East-coast accent.
Crusoe sets sail at an inopportune time of year, weather-wise, and it proves to be his undoing. The ensuing spectacle of model-shop proportions pales in comparison to the storm-at-sea sequence near the beginning of INDIANA JONES AND THE LAST CRUSADE. The shipwreck in CRUSOE could have used some of Indiana Jones' adrenaline.
The film barely touches on Defoe's theme of man's fear of, and difficulty in dealing with, solitude. This Crusoe doesn't seem to mind being alone at all. There are a couple of scenes in which we feel that this existence is not as idyllic as it may seem, but these are few and far between. The arrival of cannibals on the island provide Crusoe and two of the natives with an opportunity for social intercourse. Updating the novel to 1808, the height of the North American slave trade, was no coincidence, as the resulting power plays between slave and master would reveal. But on no occasion does Crusoe refer to either one as "Friday."
As far as presenting a unique vision or a refreshing outlook, Walon Green's literal screenplay rarely works overtime. But there's enough up there on the screen to appease the most undemanding viewer. And it's buoyed along by an evocative Michael Kamen score which, combined with the lush, tropical scenery, creates the film's principal mood.
As one would expect from cinematographer turned director Caleb Deschanel, the film is lovely to look at. But it would have taken a supremely untalented crew of individuals to travel to the Seychelles (where the film was shot) and make the surrounding topography look drab and uninviting.
But when the film does set up an arresting situation, it rarely has the faith to develop it, and ends up sitting on the fence. It's almost as if the film makers couldn't decide what kind of a film they wanted to make. The result is a film which hovers awkwardly between straightforward storytelling and social commentary.
On the surface, CRUSOE might appeal to those who have either never read the book, or who are looking for some ideas as to where to spend their summer vacation. But don't go looking for any kind of depth or imagination. Those elements, like Crusoe himself, are all washed up.
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