The Dead (Criterion Review)
John Huston is another of my favourite directors who, like Howard Hawks, never really gets his flowers today. You get the sense that he is more respected than revered. He’s rarely discussed as an auteur, and yet he fits the bill better than most. Beginning his film career as a screenwriter, you can see recurring themes in all his films – his early work has a preoccupation with greed and obsession (such as in The Maltese Falcon, The Treasure Of The Sierra Madre and The Asphalt Jungle) while his later films turn to the idea of ageing, regret, and the sense that his characters’ best years are behind them. You can see this in The Misfits, Fat City, and especially his swan song, an adaptation of James Joyce‘s short story, The Dead.
This might seem a bit of a thankless task, trying to bring the writer’s famously inimitable prose to life. Still, it’s to Huston’s immense credit that he pretty much pulls it off, thanks in no small part to the nuanced, lived-in performances and a script that captures the mood and feel of the story perfectly. It’s a profoundly moving period film which is authentic without ever feeling too starchy or mannered, as period dramas so often do. It has a similar feeling to Scorsese’s The Age Of Innocence – a film that has the appearance of being restrained and formal on the surface, but which speaks to truths that are still keenly felt today.
To describe the plot of The Dead would be to do it a disservice (have you ever asked someone what Ulysses is about?) Ostensibly a simple dinner party set in Ireland in the early 1900s, hosted by sisters Julia and Kate (Helena Carroll and Cathleen Delany), where various family members and acquaintances intermingle and chat about the most everyday things. It is at once banal and deeply revealing. The gathering itself serves as a prelude to one especially moving scene: an honest, heartfelt, and painful conversation between a married couple. Yet even this seems too dismissive an account of the lion’s share of the film. The party is a necessary component of the film, enriching and informing our understanding of the characters. The central couple, Gabriel and Greta Conroy (Donal McCann and Anjelica Huston), make an impression for sure, but it’s more through facial expressions and fleeting reactions than any exposition or lengthy speeches.
Much of this is due to the beautifully observed script by Tony Huston. Every moment is characterised by a touching, humane observation. The scene where one of the hosting sisters is prevailed upon to sing a song for her guests, and isn’t very good, feels like a descendant of a similar scene in Huston’s Key Largo, but where the earlier scene is a moment of humiliation, here it becomes more tender. The drunk Freddie Malins (Donal Donnelly) gushes about how wonderful her voice is, overcompensating and creating a real sense of awkwardness, but it comes from a place of kindness. Where younger Huston would go for a cruel edge, this moment is full of warmth. Similarly, the way Freddie takes umbrage over a misunderstood joke, and the weary tedium that ensues as everyone tries to explain, feels painfully true to life.
The performances all feel very modern, subtle, and understated. McCann is quietly touching as the dignified husband, his outwardly gregarious persona at odds with the thoughtfulness and insecurities revealed in his inner monologue. He’s shown to be self-critical, proud, and dismissive of his wife’s feelings, and yet there is a kindness and an ambiguity to his performance that means we can’t dismiss him out of hand. Angelica Huston, though, is extraordinary – but what makes her performance remarkable isn’t how much she stands out, but how well she blends in. The only bona fide star in the cast, coming off her Oscar win for Prizzi’s Honor (again directed by her father), she fits in beautifully as part of the ensemble, with a faultless Irish accent, before delivering a devastating monologue in the closing scenes.
The main issue, indeed the only issue with the film, is that it isn’t – nor can it be – the Joyce short story. Joyce’s prose is so lyrical, so evocative, that recreating it on film is nigh on impossible. That Huston just about accomplishes this, in at least a couple of scenes, is remarkable. The shot of Greta on the stairwell, and her stillness as she listens to the song from the floor above, is a beautifully composed moment, and one that captures the same moment from the story perfectly – and lovingly restored to 4K. As writer Colum McCann says in an interview on this release from Criterion, it’s quite an achievement to translate the actual literature into film, and Huston makes it look effortless. When he can’t fully recreate Joyce’s prose, he does the next best thing and lifts it wholesale, as he does in the final scene. Donal McCann‘s inner monologue is taken verbatim from Joyce’s story, and lovingly recited – the perfect way to end the film.
It’s so touching that this is how John Huston chose to bow out of filmmaking, directing a script written by his son, and coaxing a career-best performance from his daughter. This is a film made by someone who knows he is dying and refuses to go out with a whimper. The Dead is a singular piece of art, and a fitting farewell from a titan of Hollywood filmmaking. A quietly powerful, pitch-perfect adaptation, it’s literary and poetic, without ever feeling too wordy or overwritten. There aren’t many directors that could pull this off, and before I’d seen The Dead, I wouldn’t have counted Huston among them; now I can’t imagine anyone else doing a better job.
Special Features
Quite a sparse selection of extras on this release, especially for Criterion. Only three special features, including the aforementioned interview with author Colum McCann, excerpts from Anjelica Huston’s memoir concerning the film, and a behind-the-scenes documentary, John Huston and the Dubliners by Lilyan Sievernich.
★★★★★
The Dead is released on 26th January from The Criterion Collection / Anjelica Huston, Donal McCann, Donal Donnelly / Dir: John Huston / Vestron Pictures / PG
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