Three things are too wonderful for me; four I do not understand: the way of an eagle in the sky, the way of a serpent on a rock, the way of a ship on the high seas, and the way of a man with a maiden. (Proverbs 30: 18-19)
There’s a decided disadvantage to making a movie of a play. It’s probably going to look “staged”–lots of conversation, lots of character interaction, plot development through dialogue, but it all feels confined to tight quarters. There are a couple of decided advantages, though, of converting a successful play into a movie: the snappy repartee is already audience-tested, and the ending is going to feel like a finale.
“A Good Woman” is based on Oscar Wilde’s 1892 play, “Lady Windermere’s Fan.” There’s a mature kind of jocularity here, as if it’s the older folks who are funny, intelligent, and wise, and the younger folks are physically handsome, but tend to be victimized by their own immaturity, ardor, and impulsiveness. But, of course, there’s no fool like an old fool, and the young have to be prevented from being impaled by their own principles.
This is the kind of movie where English tourists are sitting around an Italian café, and one says, “I dislike Americans.” And another one says, “What’s not to like? They went straight from barbarism to decadence without bothering to build a civilization.”
This is the kind of movie where the dress is so formal and demure that a strapless dress is considered positively scandalous. The presence of a paper fan left in a bedroom is cause for an uproar in the house the next morning. Private parties feature swing bands, replete with horn section. Impropriety is a disgrace to be avoided, and going to the opera is a prime social outing. It’s a world that few people have any identification with, which is why Mr. Wilde’s little teacup drama focuses on the natural human elements: lust, avarice, greed, slothfulness, envy, and all those other deadly sins, as if the whole world is really driven by concupiscence.
Helen Hunt as the femme fatale? Well, as Mrs. Erlynne, she’s slender enough to be positively angular, but even in the prime of 1930’s fashion hardly a world-class beauty. Then again, Scarlet Johansson radiates a kind of earthy, sensual presence that renders men weak-kneed and speechless, and women puzzled about the appeal. Ms. Johansson plays an American, Meg Windermere, the young woman who’s given a fan for a birthday present. She’s blissfully in love with her seemingly-earnest young husband, Robert (Mark Umbers), and equally blissfully unaware of his roving eye for Mrs. Erlynne. There’s an old fool named Tuppy (Tom Wilkinson) with more money than sense who proposes to Mrs. Erlynne the first time he sees her. When a friend points out to him that she wouldn’t be interested in him if he weren’t rich, he calmly replies that he wouldn’t be interested in her if she were ugly, either, so fair’s fair. Well, at the very least, we will not lack for scintillating conversation.
Early on, in a playful moment in the boudoir, Mrs. Windermere says coquettishly to her husband, “Promise me we won’t become one of those old couples who twiddle their forks at dinner and have nothing to say to each other.” Well, if that’s the worst nightmare of Oscar Wilde, put into the mouth of his most beautiful character, then we needn’t worry about that here. All the characters have plenty to say to each other. So sit back, enjoy the bright, snappy, dialogue, and marvel again at the wondrous and mysterious ways of men and women with one another.
Questions For Discussion:
1) If your spouse were cheating on you, would you rather be blissfully unaware, or would you prefer knowing a hurtful truth?
2) When have you done something that sacrifices some of your own comfort or happiness for the sake of another’s?
3) If you are older, have you found yourself giving advice to the young about relationships? If so, what kind of advice?
4) If you are younger, have you ever sought the advice of someone older regarding your relationships? Did you take the advice?
Ron Salfen is pastor of First Church in Terrell, Texas.
