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Movieline Magazine
February 2001
Reels of Fortune



Moviemakers take on the almighty dollar (and pound) with two films rich in meaning -- The House of Mirth and The Claim -- and one, Snatch, that's bankrupt.

Ironically, for an industry that takes money very seriously, Hollywood tends to make movies that trivialize the subject of cash. Of course, there are lots of caper and heist films that celebrate the big score, but these are invariably fantasies that tell us very little about the real struggles involved in earning and keeping a fortune or even making a living wage. Most don't begin to suggest how lives can be transformed by economic imperatives, and they usually gloss over the ferociousness of the human acquisitive instinct. In other words, as with movies on just about every other subject, Hollywood films about money peddle pleasing myths that blithely ignore painful truths.

In theaters this month, however, are two exceptions to that rule: The House of Mirth and The Claim. Both benefit from having as their source material classic novels by writers with a far deeper understanding of monetary dynamics than your average Hollywood screenwriter would have. Edith Wharton's 1905 novel The House of Mirth, which is about social ritual and sexual hypocrisy, is probably most powerful in its depiction of the cruelty of economic forces. Her story surveys the travails of Lily Bart (Gillian Anderson), who is brought up in high society but, without an advantageous marriage, faces the threat of financial ruin. Director Terence Davies' slightly languorous but ultimately effective rendition of the novel honors Wharton's unsentimental vision. And like the novel, the film pays a good deal of attentions to investments an inheritances as it dramatizes how Lily's fate depends on money matters that she regards far too cavalierly.

In the first half of the movie, which details Lily's romantic dalliances, the cast isn't quite up to the high comedy that's required. To paraphrase Elia Kazan, many American actors tend to be vocally inadequate, mostly because they lack extensive classical training. Indeed, in Mirth, Anderson seems a bit stilted with the arch, literate quality of Wharton's witty banter, as do most of her costars, including Eric Stoltz, Dan Aykroyd, and Laura Linney and Anthony LaPaglia. (In a small role, Elizabeth McGovern is more successful than the others because she doesn't work as strenuously.) But Anderson is remarkably eloquent and expressive conveying inner turmoil in wordless scenes. As Lily's defenses collapse when she faces a series of financial crises in the film's second half, so do Anderson's mannerisms, and she makes the character's vulnerability achingly believable. There's a shocking contrast between Lily's life of luxury at the beginning and her desperate condition at the end.

(snipped)

Whatever their imperfections, though, The Claim and The House of Mirth are meaty, meaningful films that bring rare insights to the subject of money and the havoc it can wreak. (snipped)

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