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Whose rules?, 30 décembre 2005
I suppose it is inevitable that, to fit a novel into a two-hour period, much of the detail and even significant parts of the story line must be left out. That is certain the case with The Cider House Rules. John Irving's novel had much more character development, naturally (as a book can always reveal the interior lives of characters much more fully than can any theatrical treatment), but I was a bit disappointed that significant plot developments (such as Homer's relationships away from St. Clouds) were left out. So, in this case, do read the book-you'll be glad you did.That disclaimer having been made, I thought that the movie was very good. Michael Caine gave his usual wonderful performance, but I was never quite clear what accent he was trying to effect (being someone with a muddled accent myself, I am not really one to criticise on this point). The stories of the orphans of St. Clouds and the women who came for help in one way or another were very poignant. I was moved at the interplay between compassion and concern-the right to life/abortion debate (perhaps the central ideological pivot point in the novel and the movie) is presented in an interesting way, with just a small tendency to get preachy on one side or the other. To a large extent, this is never really resolved; while Homer in the end realises that in the adult world there are rarely black-and-white issues, but rather shades of gray, one does not know in the movie if he is really persuaded to his mentor's view. The Cider House Rules (referring firstly to the notice tacked to the wall of one of the lodgings) serves as a metaphor for the entire film. Who made these rules? What do they really mean? What purpose do they serve? Can't we make our own rules? I found this metaphor personally meaningful, for, as a theology student, these are questions I ask and am asked on a routine basis. What authority do rules written by others have on me? on society? This story is also one of vocation, of finding one's life's calling, a pursuit near to my heart as I prepare to enter the ministry. I find that my resistance to being pigeon-holed is similar to Homer's. He resisted the automatic assumption that he was a doctor, only to find in the course of his life that he was in fact called to be a doctor. Often when one tries to run away from a vocation, one runs into its arms in any case. The different family situations (Rose and her father, the flyer and his, the orphanage) shows that family and community exist on many different levels. The interactions and easy acceptance of these situations is perhaps a bit of a stretch, but the interplay shows that the traditional nuclear family was more of an ideal than a realisation. I loved the scenery, and the cinematography was very well done, but I have a slight irritation at the depiction of New England as being covered in fall-coloured foliage all year round. New Hampshire is one of my favourite holiday spots, and many is the time that I've been there that, lovely as it is, there was not a red-coloured or gold-coloured tree to be seen. This story essentially is one about love for the unloved, the overall love for humanity, of one making one's way in a confusing world, and trying to protect the vulnerable while allowing them freedom to grow, and an infusing of a sense of worth in those whom the world would otherwise consider worthless, as exemplified in the good doctor's nightly bidding: `Good night, you princes of Maine, you kings of New England.' P.S. Watch for John Irving's cameo in the movie, too.
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