Film Review

Stranded on an 'Island' of chaos

By Constantine Nasr
Staff Writer

After a dissatisfying summer full of films that held much promise, we are now left with the finale of the 1996 blockbusters. Unfortunately, the most awaited films were disappointments, and the last remnants of this season's handful of "big" films included yet another long-awaited bit of science fiction filmmaking that many had anticipated with a certain anxiety.
"The Island of Dr. Moreau," a movie which has somehow captivated America for the past two weeks and remained firmly at the number one box office position, is about as terrifying a film as anything Clive Barker could write. The only problem is that the film terrifies us because its production is such a mess. The frantic desperation of this production and the frenzy of its narrative calls for us both to shudder away and to laugh at this appallingly bad rendition of classic sci-fi.
"The Island of Dr. Moreau" is the third American adaptation of H.G. Wells' classic experiment in science fiction, this year being the novel's centennial birthday. And what better way to celebrate such an historic event than to experience its new movie counterpart?
Read the book. It's much better.
Moreau, the novel, is a tale of shipwrecked sailor Edward Prendick, who is saved from certain death by a mysterious stranger and then taken to a singular island inhabited by a host of weird creatures. These islanders, as Prendick eventually comes to discover, are the results of years of experimental research by an obsessed scientist named Moreau. Moreau has used his knowledge of vivisection to fuse man and animal in an effort to create the perfect species.
"Moreau," the film, updates the tale to the 21st century, with a shipwrecked United Nations emissary brought onto Moreau's island. Moreau, portrayed on a whim by Marlon Brando, was a Nobel Peace Prize winner who now finds the heat of his island too much to bear, and consequently roams around in white bandages and skin cream and plays piano concertos with his small human/lizard "son." Much of the dislocated plot takes us for new turns, even updating the love interest theme, but ultimately the script is too fragmented to maintain any sense of order.
Filmmaker Richard Stanley attempted to retain the basic concept of Wells' intricate and scientifically challenging piece of fiction when he updated the premise for a `90s audience. Stanley placed the humanitarian aspect of the novel at a level of importance, but in the end, forgot the real essence of Wells' tale: the fine line between humanity and animals.
But blaming Stanley is far too easy.
The film's production was a matter of controversy for months. Stanley, originally in line to direct, was somehow pushed over the edge by star Val Kilmer because of creative differences. The director/writer quit weeks into production, and with him, he took co-star Rob Morrow ("Quiz Show"). The production was left in shambles. During the re-routing stages, Kilmer switched roles, and David Thewlis ("Naked," "Dragonheart") took over the role of Prendick (now changed to Edwards). Of course, Brando remained in the god-like role of Moreau. John Frankenheimer, a veteran director whose best work is not seen here, took over for Stanley.
In the case of most bad big-budget films, "Moreau" had promise, and the film reveals this because of the truly engrossing exposition. The first ten minutes of the film are captivating, but once we are let in on mystery (too early on), all is lost.
To begin, the narrative has only one place to go, and we know as soon as we see Thewlis begin to panic that the whole island will become embroiled in chaos. Chaos can be a good thing (remember 1932's "Island of Lost Souls"), but there is no build-up here. The action is too disconnected, scenes don't necessarily match and a whole feeling of discomfort leaves one wanting to leave the theater before its all done.
Brando, who plays the part for laughs until his last minute on film, is pure camp. His monologue on the ethics of his experiments, so passionately expressed in Wells' prose, is hammed to pieces in the film. Blame this on bad writing and bad acting combined. One can't say that Brando is washed up; if you think that, see "Don Juan DeMarco." The real complaint is that the part deserved to be taken seriously.
Kilmer wasn't miscast. He was misused. His character of Montgomery, Moreau's assistant and a crucial part of the novel, was believable enough, but he lacked the presence of his true star persona. Montgomery's love for substance abuse is a nice update to his original addiction to alcohol; Kilmer drew on his Morrison performance to give the part a little more buzz. He was simply wasted on screen. In fact, the hyena-swine manimal had more screen time and dialogue than Kilmer did!
The remainder of the picture rested on the shoulders of the real stars: David Thewlis and Stan Winston's manimals. Thewlis is a fine portrait of Wells' lost unfortunate hero, playing his part as it was originally written: humble and in dire need to survive. Fairuza Balk seemed a little out of place in her role of Aissa, Moreau's almost-perfect cat-daughter, but her effort is worthwhile, which makes her a character we can sympathize with.
Director John Frankenheimer's attempt to save the film was a good deed in itself. But he should have killed the animal instead of letting it suffer and die a slow and painful death. Frankenheimer doesn't seem to have a grasp on the story or the characters, and his technique (one too many deep focus shots laid back to back) just disorient the viewer. Here again, life imitates art: while the main point of Moreau's experiments was to bring control to chaos, there was never a more poignant irony for filmmakers than this flawed, orderless "experiment."
The few good points of the film should be mentioned. The opening title sequence gave "Seven" a run for its money. The maintaining of little minor plot points, like Thewlis' sloth creature or Montgomery's fondness for the beasts, barely makes up for things like the absence of the House of Pain. The destruction of the island and the hyena-swine's humanity are also memorable. And, of course, Ron Perlman as a beast man--always a winner.
However, this film is a mockery of ugliness and deformity, and one is plunged into a feeling of not knowing how to react. We are thrown into sequences where laughter and horror seem equally appropriate, and like specimens in a freak show, the characters on-screen (especially the lizard-boy) are used as targets for our sick curiosity.
Good film versions of a book are rare but always welcome. Even adaptations that stand on their own as fine works although they bear little resemblance to their source are acceptable. Films like "Mary Reilly" have just about killed the chances of classical horrors on the modern screen. "Moreau" is just adding to the fire.
Erle C. Kenton's "The Island of Lost Souls" with Charles Laughton, a masterpiece of early cinema (as well as the science-fiction film) was criticized by Wells at its time of release. One can only imagine what Wells would think of this atrocious mess. C-

"The Island of Dr. Moreau" is now playing nationwide