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"An innocuous account" Benson on 'Dear John'

The film Dear John seems to have aroused the enthusiasm of many critics, both in this country and overseas. It has also attracted the attention of a wide audience, if the lengthy Auckland season is anything to go by. One wonders why this should be the case, since the film itself is nothing more than a fairly innocuous account of a not uncommon situation. The treatment of the theme adds nothing to our understanding of the subject. This would not matter so much if there was something to admire in the way the film has been put together, but Dear John is not even a particularly interesting piece of film-making.

Perhaps the admirers of the film have been dazzled by its pretensions to erotic realism. Such claims, as a viewing clearly demonstrates, seem to have arisen out of the advertising campaign rather than the intentions of the director and writer. Those expecting to see a kind of cinematic equivalent of The ABZ of Love will be disappointed. The most explicit moment In the film is a glimpse of a bare backside, and genitalia, breasts and other sundry organs are skllfully disguised by sheets, beams of timber. murky water etc. If Dear John was in fact intended to be avant-garde in matters of sex, then Doris Day comedies are positively daring.

In any case. I am not at all sure that erotic realism on the screen is desirable— from an aesthetic, not a moral point of view A straightforward documentation of matters carnal would be about as deflating (end flattering) as the shots of the copulating moneys in Dear John. That "element of mystery" which Luis Buel describes as being essential to any work of art. and which we find in even the most casual love affair, would be missing. If there is some way in which erotic realism and the emotional overtones of eroticism can be presented on film simultaneously, I have yet to hear of it. But without these overtones the result would. I fear, be about as antiseptic and unmoving as a sex education film.

There are various reasons underlying the presentation of eroticism in the cinema. Those responsible may feel that they are amplifying the subject or aiding the development of the narrative. I think this is the case with Dear John. Sometimes it appears as a violent reaction against restrictive censorship. I regard any form of censorship as ridiculous and harmful, and its abolition, besides being a good thing in itself, would undoubtedly sharpen our appreciation of when eroticism is an integrated part of an artistic whole, and when it is merely an unnecessary and intruding ornament. In many cases it has become ornamentation for its own sake, as in films where the motive behind bare bodies and appropriate activities is purely commercial. Producers of such movies obviously take note of the advice given by Raymond Durgnat, who recommends that when faced with a scenario unlikely to appeal to anyone the only situation is to "fill the screen with tits"

Despite all this, I can't help feeling that Dear John is basically dishonest in the way in which it is titillating without being satisfying. This may seem to contradict my general comments, since I now appear to be advocating a veritable orgy. But what I want to know is: what does it all signify? Do the surreptitious flashes of thigh and buttock enable us to understand the characters, relationship or share in its development ? Is the self-conscious display of semi-nudity relevant to anything at all? I think not. Nor is the situation clarified by the somewhat fatuous used of mixed time sequence, a trick which seems to have little dramatic, poetic, artistic, or psychological justification, Perhaps the makers of the film wanted to channel the viewing energy of the audience in one specific direction. Since we know early on that he makes her. we can turn our attention to his style, the manner in which he goes about the task, rather than worry about the outcome of this interminable seduction. The repetition of certain scenes does not improve matters. Here, where points are driven home with sledge-hammer insistence, the film is at its most banal and tedious.

Director Linogren, like Ingmar Bergman, shows an astonishing reluctance to utilize the materials of the medium. Dear John resolves itself into a succession of well-lit, static compositions, shot with the utmost care. I am quite sure there must be something in the Scandinavian temperament which prevents these directors from splashing the screen with gutsy, eye-catching technique—some strain of asceticism which makes their films look like pretty, magnified photo albums, rather than genuine pieces of cinema concocted out of a camera, some celluloid, and a pair of scissors. Some may regard the "obtrusive" use of technique with abhorrence, but my interest cannot be sustained by any film which looks like a piece of close-up theatre.

To be sure. Dear John is graced by some very fine acting. Nor should we overlook the moments of genuine humour, whether intended, as in the scene in front of the fire in the house, or accidental, as when John suggest to his shipmate that they hop below "for a quick one." Some of the dialogue is marred by excessively tortured translation. I have never seen 'victual' as a verb other than In dictionaries, and some of the attempts to translate colloquial Danish into colloquial English are quite embarrassing. Subtitling, however, no matter how turgid the language, is certainly better than dubbing.

The subject which Dear John attempts to deal with is a delicate one. It requires great subtlety of treatment if the events depicted are not to appear as tiresome replicas of countless situations seen in real life and in other films. One can only appreciate and approve of such a film, and indeed justify its ever being made, if it is exciting as a piece of cinema and or drama, or if it attempts to Illuminate the commonplace by making the characters and situations of unusual interest, or if it increases our understanding of such relationships by probing deeply into the feelings and motivations of the participants. For me. despite its good intentions and occasional virtues, Dear John fails to satisfy any of these criteria