THE CIDER HOUSE RULES *** (out of four) -a review by Bill Chambers (bill@filmfreakcentral.net)
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starring Tobey Maguire, Michael Caine, Charlize Theron, Delroy Lindo screenplay by John Irving, based on his novel directed by Lasse Hallström
If, occasionally during The Cider House Rules, one corner of the screen curled up and peeled away like a turning page to reveal the next scene, the wipe would seem entirely natural. I haven't encountered a movie that so resembles the experience of reading a good paperback this year, no doubt because John Irving wrote the tearjerking The Cider House Rules as a book first and a screenplay second.
"Annie" it's not: at a depression-era New England orphanage-cum-abortion clinic, Dr. Wilbur Larch (Caine) has successfully preened one of the abandoned kids, Homer Wells (Maguire), into both his professional equal and an upstanding young man, an example for the other boys and girls to follow.
After spending twenty-some-odd years in Larch's care, Homer justly develops wanderlust, and he leaps at the opportunity to fly the coop with a beautiful patient, Candy (Theron), and Wally, her soldier mate (Paul Rudd). Larch is deeply offended by his surrogate son's decision, and reveals an X-ray indicating Homer's bad heart, which will stop working if he gets overexcited, but neither scare tactics nor loyalty can prevent the inevitable: true to his namesake, Homer will have his odyssey.
It suits Maguire that he must remain calm and somewhat idle at all times in The Cider House Rules, since the actor's greatest feature is a pair of observant eyes. Before leaving for war, Wally finds Homer a new job at a cider house, where he will be the only white employee among migrant blacks. For those who haven't correctly presumed, Candy falls for Homer in her boyfriend's absence, and thus begins a passionate love affair between them. The story contains other "meanwhile"s; we are kept abreast of Larch's frustrating situation with the bureaucrats who want to tamper with his operation as well as that of a sick orphan named Fuzzy. The latter constitutes a shameless subplot (right down to the adorable child's name) born of the Chaplin tradition.
Caine is winning as the ether-addicted doctor, though his American accent takes some getting used to. (The filmmakers have added a line or two about why Larch sometimes sounds English.) I appreciated Larch's selfishness, and Caine's willingness to play prickly. The incandescent Theron is probably the weakest of the ensemble, through no fault of her own-Candy is drawn as blandly wholesome (abortion notwithstanding), and her indecision (Am I in love with Homer or Wally?) is aggravating.
Both Maguire and Lindo, as Mr. Rose, the boss of the cider house, are exemplary. Lindo's initial smiley authority complements Maguire's preternatural stillness-Mr. Rose goes through a transformation, at least in our eyes, that I won't reveal here, which Lindo handles with finesse. Just when the film is becoming a little too precious, Mr. Rose provides welcome conflict, and without becoming a full-fledged villain. Lindo has been blessed with what is, say I, the movie's most memorable scene, a breathy, heartrending apologia.
Swede helmer Hallström (My Life as a Dog) hasn't strayed far from his 1993 effort, What's Eating Gilbert Grape, in stylistic terms: apart from obvious period differences (Grape takes place in the modern era), the two films share timeless images, as well as gentility. Just four pictures after his American career suffered a false start with the unengaging weepie Once Around, Hallström has Hollywood Oscar contenders licked. Though not formulaic, The Cider House Rules is in the mode of old-fashioned crowd-pleasers, passionate tales of self-discovery set against a historical backdrop. If only Hallström had not relied on Rachel Portman's syrupy and intrusive score, which confirms too often that we're watching melodrama.
The Cider House Rules retained a novelistic structure in the adaptation: its peaks feel like chapter breaks. Much is covered over the course of two hours-and-fifteen minutes, including pro-choice (the movie argues in favour of it with worst case scenarios, which may ruffle a few feathers), young love, and race relations. (It's a brilliant conceit, really: Homer's passivity not only spares the audience the arguments that typically ensue between on-screen adulterers, it also immediately puts his oppressed co-workers at ease-they don't consider him a threat, despite his skin colour.) Each of these issues is carefully handled, though the episodic nature of the plotting inevitably means that some resolutions are more satisfying than others.
Where The Cider House Rules most brings to mind a John Irving read is in its aftereffects. When the first closing credit appeared, I experienced three stages of post-partum. First, elation-what a finish! Then came relief-the film is so stuffed it leaves you a little bloated. Then came a profound sense of displacement: I hadn't realized how seductive its world was. Hallström has married delicate, spare visuals and solid performances to Irving's low key yet enthralling narrative. The outcome is a grandly satisfying mainstream entertainment with few shortcomings.
-December, 1999
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