Stephen Frears
Mary Reilly

Since time immemorial, and from the most remote beginnings, the world of cinema has drawn heavily from the world of literature. This is because it is simpler to script pre-existing plots (more than scripting, one should use the term reworking) rather than invent new and captivating stories. The novels that have been most successful in cinema are, curiously, the darkest and most pessimistic ones. Dracula, Frankenstein, Nosferatu: the horror-gothic genre (different from classical horror) has always attracted audiences worldwide, either for the perverse allure of the story or for a form of escape from reality.

Gothic horror is a sub-genre of classical horror: classical horror is based on fear through plot twists or deadly shock effects ("Deep Red," just to give an example); gothic horror seeks to create fear in the viewer through the psychological construction of the characters (disturbing close-ups, untrustworthy faces) thanks to the fundamental contribution of the landscapes. If you think of Murnau's Nosferatu, the distress for the viewer was brought by the shots of the castle from the outside, the spectral night landscapes, characterized by complex sharp and effective shots (bold angles, frenzied editing, expressive cuts typical of German Expressionism). If we will, it’s a more complex and less frightening genre of horror, but certainly of great scenic effectiveness.

In recent times, Stephen Frears (already an appreciated director of "Dangerous Liaisons") tried to revive the glories of gothic horror. The inspiration came from a novel by Valerie Martin, "Mary Reilly," a sort of ‘behind the scenes’ of the famous Stevenson masterpiece "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" (1886). In Martin's novel, the protagonist is a self-proclaimed maid, an honest worker in the service of Dr. Jekyll, from whom she willingly accepts flattery and gestures of love. It bothers her, though, when Mr. Hyde shows her attention: she is unaware that they are actually the same person.

Frears's film, for better or worse, changes very little from the novel and attempts the difficult path of gothic horror, but the endeavor succeeds halfway. The atmosphere is certainly dark and spectral, but also very stereotypical (the smoky London of the 19th century) and, if we will, seen and re-seen at least fifty times (we are in the realm of Oliver Twist), although, to be fair, the real strength of the film is the surprising performance by Julia Roberts, the absolute protagonist of the film.

Those who for years accused Roberts of not being a great actress had to suddenly rethink. Because if it is true, as it is true, that when she takes part in commercial and silly films (see "Runaway Bride," but also "Mona Lisa Smile") Julia Roberts shows that all she knows how to do is show her teeth and smile at any phrase, it is also true that when she decides to shed the aura of the eternal ditz and has the courage to challenge herself with less trivial and less commercial films, she proves to be more than a sufficient blockbuster actress. And "Mary Reilly" proves it: with a frightened look, curled on the floor cleaning the sadistic doctor's house, anguished at merely hearing a person's steps, locked in a room waiting for the worst. A range of expressions, if not exceptional at least interesting, and in the end, if we want to be honest, it’s she who holds the whole thing together.

Less exceptional is Frears's direction, a bit cut with an axe, but even the character of Henry Jekyll (played by John Malkovich) is a mere figure without any psychological depth of relevance. Summing it up then, "Mary Reilly" could be defined as a great missed opportunity to break away a bit from the usual themes of good and evil, beauty and the beast. Of course, one cannot deny that some scenes are indeed well conceived, that the dark side of the monster, although not completely resolved, manages to capture the attention even of the most reluctant viewer, and that the relationship between slave and slavemaster hides more than an explicit sexuophobic affair.

And the blame for the failed spectacular attempt of Martin's novel is not entirely to be placed on the director, Frears, and the screenwriter, Christopher Hampton. It would be worth bringing into question even the production, which dragged out the working time of the film excessively (because they weren’t satisfied with the director's work), replaced Al Pacino with John Malkovich, and chose the less courageous ending, perhaps to meet the supposed kindness requirements of the so-called average audience.

But the audience, whether average or high-brow, completely rejected the film and unanimously avoided the theaters where the film was shown. A great missed opportunity.