Review: What Dreams May Come (1998)
Harvey S. Karten
Reviewed by Harvey Karten, Ph.D.
Polygram Filmed Entertainment
Director: Vincent Ward
Writer: Ron Bass, novel by Richard Matheson
Cast: Robin Williams, Cuba Gooding Jr., Annabella Sciorra,
Max Von Sydow, Yvonne Blake Jessica Brooks, Rosaline
Chao, Josh Paddock
Remember that song, "When at last our life on earth is
through,/ I will share eternity with you..."? You've got to like
someone quite a bit to want that, and in "What Dreams May
Come" the world has finally found just that sort of person.
With a title that pretentiously derives from Shakespeare's
"Hamlet" and a theme that resonates from "Romeo and
Juliet," "What Dreams May Come" is a leading contender for
the year's raspberry awards--perhaps the silliest film since
"The Postman." The screenplay, such as it is, is by Ron
Bass, who wrote the script to "The Rainman," but perhaps the
credits got it wrong: it seems to have been written by The
Rainman. As co-star Cuba Gooding Jr. records in the
production notes, one of his lines is "Thought is real and
physical is the illusion." This is presumably his idea of one of
the better lines in the narrative.
The subject of the afterlife, of what happens to us after we
die, has fascinated people for millenia. We wonder about
reincarnation, westerners perhaps hoping for it while Hindus
consider it a punishment. We wonder as well about love in all
its ramifications. Love and death: not only the title of one of
Woody Allen's funniest films but the two subjects that
preoccupy us the most. It's no wonder that these themes and
also their most cinematic equivalents, sex and violence, have
been the principal focus of poets, philosophers, and
theologians for centuries and filmmakers for a hundred years.
Combine the two in a single story and you have the potential
makings of big box office. But treat the subjects as though
you're condescending to a mass audience, challenging them
to understand Great Ideas while dishing out nothing but
affected pap and you're likely to have a flop on your hands.
"What Dreams May Come" features Robin Williams (who,
like Woody Allen, should stick to comedy), Cuba Gooding Jr.
(likewise), Annabella Sciorra (who is so stunning that even
with a bad rug and crippled colloquy she's a pleasure to
watch), and Max von Sydow (who appears throughout in such
psychic pain and embarrassment he could probably use an
exorcist). When Chris Nielsen (Robin Williams), a doctor who
is able charm a smile out of a migrainous child, dies after a
gruesome auto accident (he is apparently hit on the head by
a flying vehicle), he goes to heaven, and since heaven's
reality is nothing more or less than our thoughts, he is
plunged into the colorful world of his wife's impressionistic
paintings. He runs into Albert (Cuba Gooding Jr.) who is
actually an incarnation of someone he admired on earth, and
is advised that human beings are not their arms or legs or
heart or even their brain. "The brain is just meat," he
instructs, assuring Chris that we are our thoughts. So Chris
just keeps conjuring up the lovely paintings of his wife Annie
(Annabella Sciorra) and watches the trees turn into Monets
and even sinks into a pool of paint. He changes the colors of
a bird faster than a 400 mHz computer with an expert
keyboarder could do the trick. Meanwhile Annie, having
recently cracked up because both of her children had
previously died in a car accident for which she blames herself,
decides she cannot live without family. She commits suicide
and goes below. Since hell hath no fury like a man forlorn,
Chris walks, runs and flies to her place of perdition, guided by
The Tracker (Max Von Sydow). What ultimately happens to
man and wife after they meet is anybody's guess. Their pet
Dalmation, the only actor too discrete to allow her name to
appear in the credits, is the only rational being in the
narrative.
It's unfortunate because you'll rarely unearth another film
with such visual imagination and glorious use of color. When
Chris makes his perigrinations through heaven, the big screen
is awash in all the colors and imaginative design that have
contributed to the reputations of nineteenth century painters
such as Monet and Van Gogh. His flights over hills and
valleys could have inspired Magritte, his stomping across a
sea of talking heads would please many a German
expressionist. Since the production insists on a
Shakesperean quote for its title, i.e. Hamlet, Act III, scene i,
it's only fair for the audience to come up with its own. How
about the one from Richard III, Act I scene iv, "O, I have
passed a miserable night!"
Rated PG-13. Running time: 113 minutes. (C) Harvey Karten
1998
Edward Johnson-ott
Robin Williams, Cuba Gooding Jr., Annabella Sciorra, Max Von Sydow,
(based on the novel by Richard Matheson). Directed by Vincent Ward. 113
minutes.
Rated PG-13, 3 stars (out of five stars)
Review by Ed Johnson-Ott, NUVO Newsweekly
www.nuvo-online.com
Archive reviews at http://us.imdb.com/M/reviews_by?Edward+Johnson-ott
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In one of the many awe-inspiring scenes in "What Dreams May Come," Chris
Nielsen awakens inside of a beautiful painting. Tentatively, he begins to
explore his incredible new surroundings and discovers that the paint in
the gorgeous landscape he now occupies is not completely dry. He plucks a
lovely blue flower and holds the blossom in his hand, admiring its hyper-
rich coloring. Then he squeezes it too hard and the flower loses its
integrity, leaving his fingers covered with bright blue paint. Moments
later, after surveying the glorious vista in front of him, a giddy
Nielsen races down a lush green hill towards the lake at its base, again
forgetting the fragility of his environment. Once more, reality begins to
unravel and the frantic man finds himself sinking into brightly colored
paint, his legs trapped by radiant color turned into an oozing mess.
Much like that scene, "What Dreams May Come" is a visually breathtaking
work that is grand to behold, but eventually loses its integrity and
becomes an oozing mess. After promising to lead us through a bold
adventure in the afterlife, the screenplay takes a tragic wrong turn and
lands in a murky swamp of confusion and psychobabble.
It's a real shame, because the filmmakers' intentions are as ambitious as
their subject is fascinating. Every man, woman and child ever born has
speculated on the mechanics of the afterlife. The possibilities are
limitless, but our visions are generally vague at best. Most often, we
either imagine people in robes lounging on clouds, whiling away eternity
playing the harp, or picture some nebulous Oz-like city with gold-paved
streets. Movies have reflected our pedestrian notions, lazily depicting a
bland afterlife with fog machines blowing smoke across a blue backdrop.
Until now, only "The Green Pastures," a charming 1936 movie set in an
idyllic, countrified Heaven, tried to show an afterlife that actually had
a sense of place.
After studying great artists' renderings of paradise and hell, "What
Dreams May Come" presents an afterlife comprised of many wonderfully
imaginative and strikingly tangible worlds. The film is a banquet for the
eyes, presenting images that range from enchanting baroque picture books
made real to Germanic impressionist nightmares turned horribly vivid. How
sad to see so much creativity serving such an undeserving script.
I haven't read the Richard Matheson novel on which the film is based, but
it has to be better than Ron Bass' inadequate screenplay. The story
introduces star-crossed lovers Chris and Annie Nielsen (Robin Williams
and Annabella Sciorra), then quickly rips their world apart. Four years
after the devastating loss of their two children, Chris is killed while
trying to help victims of an automobile accident. He views the aftermath
of his death in a ghost state, accompanied by a colorful blurred figure.
In time, the corporeal world fades and Chris moves to a ravishing
surrealistic realm, where the now-clear figure identifies himself as
Albert (Cuba Gooding Jr.), Chris' guide to the afterlife. Albert explains
the mechanics of the domain. Thought is reality and each person creates
their own eternity, generally starting by reconstituting their body and
surrounding themselves with a comforting landscape. You can change forms
and worlds at will, reunite with loved ones when you're ready, or choose
to be reborn for another run at life on planet Earth.
Just as Chris is beginning to adjust, enjoying a blissful reunion with
one of his children and exploring the wonders around him, he learns that
Annie has committed suicide, dooming herself to infinity in a hell of her
own creation. Told that there is nothing he can do and that his feelings
for Annie will fade in time, Chris spits out "No! We're soulmates!" and
dives into Hades to save his beloved, joined by a mysterious figure known
as the Tracker (Max Von Sydow).
Handled properly, this story could have shined, but Bass turns a lyrical
premise into a dismal bog of grandiose posturing, condescending homilies
and convoluted dialogue, all dressed up with loads of irritatingly coy
pop psychology. "What Dreams May Come" pretends to offer the secrets of
the universe, but beneath all the pretentious wailing and gnashing of
teeth, its message is trite and obvious. After being subjected to such a
cavalcade of histrionics, we deserve revelations, damn it!
The best performances in the film come from the supporting players.
Rosalind Chao (Keiko from a couple of "Star Trek" series) is quietly
effective as a spirit guide and, playing the Nielsen kids, Jessica Brooks
and Josh Paddock are direct, focused and touching. Max Von Sydow, on the
other hand, sleepwalks through his trite role. As for Williams, Sciorra,
and Gooding; well, they do what they usually do.
"What Dreams May Come" warrants a visit despite its dreadful script,
thanks to the aforementioned supporting actors and the film's incredible
visuals. To best enjoy the experience, though, I suggest you follow this
suggestion: ignore the words and just look at all the pretty pictures.
© 1998, Ed Johnson-Ott