An Almost-Brilliant Movie

MY BRILLIANT CAREER is almost a brilliant movie. Judy Davis's stunning performance as Sybylla Melvin, a woman who struggles with the career-vs.-marriage option, transforms a simple story into an honest and captivating film. But even her sensitive portrait of a person who has the courage to buck convention cannot completely transcend a simplistic script. Sybylla defies the limitations of Victorian society by ultimately choosing to pursue a career as an author; the film's flaw is not this decision, but the manner in which Sybylla reaches it.

Sybylla's story, which takes place in turn-of-the-century Austrialia, is based on a semi-autobiographical novel by Miles Foreman. The rugged setting reinforces Sybylla's spirited independence, which manifests itself in a need to pursue her identity through writing--a persistent calling that prevents her from surrendering to her love for a man. When Harry Beecham first proposes to her, Sybylla asks him to wait for two years so that she may explore the world and live on her own. When he needs her, she promises, she will marry him; and she professes her love for him. The two years pass, Harry waits and asks again. She rejects him, again claiming she needs her independence, although insisting that she is "near to loving" him. Sybylla is so confident, so certain, as she rejects Beecham for the second time--she seems to have had no difficulty with this momentous decision.

Yet, in the 45 minutes of film preceding this scene, Sybylla has pined for Beecham and has jealously resented his attention to her younger sister. The final decision is presented as the articulation of her identity as a person and a writer, but the wrenching thought process that should have precipitated the choice is absent.

Davis nearly compensates for this lapse in Ellen Whitcombe's screenplay. With her untamed chestnut mane and snapping blue eyes, Davis is unforgettable as the willful Sybylla. Rarely has an actor brought such a unique vitality and integrity to the screen. In a script without a lot of dialogue, Davis delivers every line with a vigor that imbues her character with a complexity and depth that is not written into the script. She moves as if she were on the stage--no action is taken for granted. Davis ignites her portrayal of Sybylla with an uncompromising zest, a passion for living. Sybylla becomes a firecracker, exploding in the face of the convention that surrounds her. In one scene she shoves Frank Hawdon, a relentless and bungling suitor, into a pen of sheep and later leaves him stranded, miles from anywhere, as she flies off with their carriage.

Harry is also the victim of Sybylla's impetuousness. In one vivid scene, she and Harry are in a row boat, Sybylla reciting poetry and Harry playing the gondolier. Sybylla scoffs at the conventional romanticism of the scenario. Speaking in a bemused fashion, Sybylla begins rocking the boat, causing it to overturn. The two lovers fall into the river and emerge wet and dripping; Harry attempts a kiss, but Sybylla runs away shouting, "Race you to the house."

Director Gillian Armstrong orchestrates Sybylla's antics with wit and imagination. Overcoming a dearth of dialogue, Armstrong injects each scene with life and imagination. Sybylla's first dinner with her grandmother is touchingly familiar to any viewer who has ever squirmed in a stiff and formal setting. As Sybylla fumbles with string beans and carrots--served on a silver platter by a butler--Armstrong accurately captures her nervousness and excitement in an intimate and endearing fashion.

The most memorable scene of the movie, though, is a pillow fight between Harry and Sybylla that starts in the stairwell of Harry's mansion and becomes a glorious pursuit and battle in the adjacent fields. The two end up hurling the pillows at each other, collapsing and panting on the grass. The scene is replete with sexual tension and is wholly emblematic of their frustrated love.

BUT THE CONCEITED performance of Sam Neill as Beecham makes Harry and Sybylla's love less credible. He peers from underneath his broad-rimmed hats as if posing for Gentlemen's Quarterly. His one-dimensional and completely uninspired performance clashes with the superb acting of the other characters. Robert Grubb as Hawdon is especially outstanding as Sybylla's awkward suitor, and Pat Kennedy--who plays Beecham's stodgy Aunt Gussie--is an archetypal proponent of Vicotrian mores. Don McAlpine, the director of photography, in a sense presents the most stellar supporting performance. McAlpine's love for the Australian landscape builds to an affair that he reveals on the screen in breathtaking colors.

However, not even McAlpine's cinematography can upstage Adams, the undisputed center of the film. It is a rare treat to see a movie with such a realistic and honest portrayal of a woman. Then again, it it rare for a movie to be produced, directed and written by women, as this one is. But to label it as a "woman's movie" is to deny its greater focus. My Brilliant Career is about a person who struggles for individuality in a constrained society. The question, though, is whether individuality and love are mutually exclusive, as Sybylla all too abruptly decides they must be.