Oliver Twist

Oliver Twist:

I always approach the task of watching a film adaptation of a literary classic that I've never read with mixed feelings. Invariably, a part of me worries that I'm missing out on half the story by watching someone's interpretation of the work of a famed author, a translation into an entirely different medium that almost always bears the fingerprints of movie studio executives and various other cooks in the kitchen. Whenever one of these adaptations leaves me nonplussed, I'm left wondering what details or nuances the film either glossed over or ignored altogether; last year's stuffy, ill-paced VANITY FAIR is the most recent example that jumps to mind. Plus, the small, snooty part of me (oh, yes, he exists) regrets the inability to lean over to a fellow filmgoer and make priggish comments along the lines of "Well, Jane Campion's tedious take on Henry James' PORTRAIT OF A LADY is hardly a portrait of good filmmaking" (or at least that's what I could say had I either read the book or seen its big-screen counterpart - curse my wasted youth watching television!). Little wonder that I'm currently ploughing through Jane Austen's PRIDE AND PREJUDICE in time for that film's upcoming release.

On the plus side, my ignorance of the source material allows me the liberty to partake of the film on its own terms, free of preconceived notions about how certain characters should look or whether this or that scene had the dramatic tenor befitting the book. Without these distractions, I can happily sit back with my tub of popcorn and immerse myself in the story, my appreciation of its telling being based purely on the strength of the script, the director's vision and other elements related solely to the movie. Being an almost complete neophyte on the subject of Dickens' cherished novel, I was pleasantly surprised to find Roman Polanski's take on OLIVER TWIST to be an absorbing tale that felt nothing like a high school field trip. TWIST chronicles the trials and tribulations of a penniless orphan who escapes the tyranny of a smalltown orphanage only to find himself trying to manage the bigger, far riskier waters of a bustling 19th century London. Upon his arrival, his unshod feet bloodied and battered by the 70-kilometre trek that got him there, he is quickly recruited by a shrewd young con artist known as Artful Dodger (Harry Eden) into serving Fagin (Ben Kingsley), the avaricious leader of a group of youthful pickpockets. When a kindly aristocrat, Mr. Brownlow (Edward Hardwicke), recognizes goodness and potential in the lad and offers him a secure, happy household, Oliver finds himself caught between these two worlds, a situation made far more dangerous by the involvement of Fagin's sadistic business partner, Bill Sykes (Jamie Foreman).

Played with minimal cutesiness by newcomer Barney Clark, OLIVER's titular character draws sympathy without coming across as a simple victim of circumstance. At the same time, the film wisely avoids presenting the pre-teen waif as some uncannily resourceful hero-type. Instead, Oliver is shown here as mostly reacting to his surroundings, swept along by the whims of Ole London's various social classes, whose apathy for the welfare of its impoverished orphans differs little from one another. His wits keep him from completely succumbing to despair yet Ronald Harwood's script takes pains to present the lad's actions as those of a child holding onto those wits for dear life at every turn. Unrecognizable as Fagin, Kingsley works wonders in a role that a lesser actor might be tempted to play either as a cardboard villain or a straight-up loon. The Oscar-winning actor brings scrappy wit and genuine pathos to a character who wilfully exploits his underlings for personal gain yet attempts to offer them some semblance of a family life, the first taste of which Oliver has ever known.

Given the director's own upbringing in Poland's Krakow ghetto, you can't help but feel Polanski drawing on those harsh experiences to bring Dickens' book to glorious life. You can practically feel the perpetually muddy streets beneath your feet or smell the stench of the city's impoverished masses eking out a living any way they can. Claiming to have picked this particular project in part as a means of making a movie suitable for his two young children, he finds in Oliver a character not unlike Adrian Brody's musician from his last film, 2002's harrowing THE PIANIST: someone who quietly but steadfastly faces adversity with an indomitable will to live that defies conscious thought.

Does Polanski's hopeful but unsentimental take on the Dickens classic do justice to the book? Beats me (critics who've actually read it seem split on the subject). Does it entertain royally with memorable performances, vivid art direction and an absorbing snapshot of life in the seamy underworld of 1830's London? You bet. To quote one of the book's most famous lines (from a starving Oliver at the orphanage): "Please, Sir, I want some more".