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I must admit, to my embarrassment, that I know very little about the British novelist/philosopher Iris Murdoch. I haven't read any of her 26 books and couldn't tell you what positions she stood for or embraced. Indeed, my only familiarity with her life comes from a New Yorker article that her husband John Bayley wrote a couple years ago, in which he detailed her descent into and death from Alzheimer's. And after seeing Iris last weekend, a movie based on her life, I'm still not sure I know anything more about her.

That's because the movie intentionally focuses on only two short periods of time--her courtship with John and the final two years of her life as she lost her battle against the disease. That's a nice chance of pace from most bio-pics, which usually try to span a person's entire career in just two short hours. By featuring only the beginning and end of Iris and John's relationship, the film achieves a poignancy it would otherwise lack.

The movie, directed and co-written by well-known theater director Richard Eyre, also uses an interesting cross-cutting structure, as it moves quickly between the young Iris (played by Kate Winslet) and John (Hugh Bonneville) and the much older Iris and John (Judi Dench and Jim Broadbent, respectively). Often, a single scene will switch between young and old several times--establishing the recurring themes and highlighting how age has both transformed and deepened their relationship. Sometimes the effect is a little too cute. In one case, the young Iris goes to open a door, and it's the old Iris that walks through it. But in other cases, the result is useful, particularly in how it highlights John's insecurity over Iris's true feelings and then connects that to his despair over her disease.

Though Iris features two of the finest actors working today in Judi Dench and Jim Broadbent, it's Kate Winslet (Titanic) who gives the most captivating performance. Indeed, Winslet's sheer enthusiasm lights up the screen every time she appears; we understand why John Bayley would be completely entranced by her and, indeed, willing to put up with her, shall we say, uninhibited notions about love and relationships. Though the film asks Kate to disrobe far too often--yes, we get that she's a free spirit after her third skinny-dipping performance, the other seven are just redundant--she captures both the intensity and joy that marked Murdoch's life. One seductive scene when Winslet kisses Hugh Bonneville's arm is one of the more sensual you'll see this year, and a moment when she slides down the stairs in a bright red dress, laughing all the way, is delightful.

The same can't be said of Dench's performance, which is astonishingly dull. True, she spends most of the movie in an Alzheimer's fog, but that doesn't excuse the bland portrayal she gives. Her speeches, in Iris's moments of lucidity, are perfunctory, and her lost-in-my-own-mind look is less than compelling. I am a huge Dench fan and have applauded her frequent Oscar nominations (and award for Shakespeare in Love), but I can only assume that this year's nod for Best Actress is a reflex move on the Academy's part. Of course, they also picked Renee Zellweger for Bridget Jones, so who knows what's in the water out in Hollywood?

Speaking of Bridget Jones's Diary, I thought Jim Broadbent was fantastic in that film, giving a touching and exquisitely subtle performance as Bridget's father. And I loved his over-the-top impresario in Moulin Rouge. So I don't mind that he's received another Oscar nomination, but it's for the wrong film. In Iris, he's just fine. He has a great slouched, old-man walk, and his stutter is charming, but the googly eyes he gets when listening to Iris talk are a bit much. Yes, we know he's still in love with his wife after 40 years, but the sense of rapture seems overdone. And his big scene of anger comes out nowhere, as if someone else took over this normally mild-mannered Brit.

On the other hand, Winslet's Oscar nomination is well-deserved, and her performance makes the movie worth seeing, particularly for fans of literary high-brow. We may not feel like we've learned much about either Iris Murdoch or the devastation of Alzheimer's, but we're reminded again of the power of young love. 

J. Robert Parks 2/20/2002

Iris Murdoch famous quote on writing is "Writing is like getting married.  One should never commit oneself until one is amazed at one's luck." She is recognized in Russia as Great Britain's top novelist.  Her first novel was published in the mid-1950's followed by 26 more.  To have a brilliant mind like her's succumb to Alzheimer's disease is a tragic thing.  Another tragic thing is to present  the story of Iris Murdoch to audiences badly.

Kate Winslet is the young Iris, portrayed as a freethinking, sexually liberated bohemian.  Dame Judi Dench portrays the mature Iris, now lecturing at St. Anne's, Oxford.  Her husband is the poet and literary critic, John Bayley (Jim Broadbent) and they have been married over forty years.  The story of Iris is told through flashbacks.  A scene of Iris meeting John melds into John and the ill Iris, taking a walk, or the young, naked Iris swimming in the river segues into the old Iris, complete with bathing suit, suddenly afraid of being under water.  All the while, John, whether young or old,  (young John played by the remarkable Hugh Bonneville) is nearby for her protection. 

Iris is a script given to actors who recite lines while a camera is on.  Dame Judi Dench gives an adequate portrayal of an ill woman, but there is no spark.  For the few minutes that we see her before the diagnosis is made, Iris might as well be wallpaper.  Kate Winslet has the better part as the young woman who loves just about every man she meets.  Even so, her dialogue is philosophically obscure leaving one just sitting there wondering, "What did she just say?"  Hugh Bonneville is the scene stealer as the young John Bayley, who covets Iris from afar. Broadbent comes off as possessive yet finds himself in over his head as caretaker during the final years.  Dench, Winslet and Broadbent garnered 2001 Academy Award nominations for their roles, but Bonneville, a key player here, was left languishing in dry dock.  For those who haven't read anything by Iris Murdoch, a comment here and there would have helped.  The term "great novelist" covers a lot of territory.  Some consider Stephen King a great novelist, but others say he and Iris Murdoch aren't in the same league.  Unfortunately, this Iris would have made an adequate made-for-television film.

Copyright 2002 Marie Asner
Submitted 3/11/2002