Lunacy and Sorrow

LITTLE Claudio Aballay's penis received a good deal of media attention earlier this month. The Globe and other newspapers carried detailed description of the 1981 freak motorbike accident which left the 11-year-old Virginia boy castrated. Rushing to a little league soccer match aboard the back of his dad's cycle. Claudio lost his pecker as the bike narrowly avoided a collision with a truck. Somehow, the back of the truck caught against the boy's blue jeans, and rip! Underwear and all. The 18-month-old tragedy made headlines because of a miraculous epilogue. In May, a team of doctors cut off chunks of Claudio's stomach calf and foot and successfully constructed a new organ complete with erotic sensibility. Articles on Claudio pointed out what immense hope this medical miracle had given to thousands of men similarly wounded or defected.

This is the type of human drama that fills the bizarre literary world of novelist John Irving. The author of the 1978 bestseller, The World According to Garp, Irving writes with a perpetual sense of impending doom--at any time some sort of garish literary vehicle similar to Claudio's fateful truck can roar by and rip away everything familiar and safe. In Garp, penises fly, ears get chomped, tongues are replaced with stitches, and death always looms. "In the world according to Garp," Irving explains, "an evening could be hilarious and the next morning could be murderous."

When this quirky saga of writer-wrestler T.S. Garp first received attention in 1978, critics embraced the life-to-death story as a work which imaginatively blended modern-day issues such as rape and the threatened American family with startlingly fresh humor. But not long after the initially warm reception, some began to find the popular and violent images and story-lines in Garp a little less wonderful. While the book continued to sell rapidly, an inverse reaction occurred in literary circles. The jury went back into session on Irving and produced a revised verdict, charging him with excessive, gratuitous treatment of human fears and tragedy in his manic writing.

With the profusion of "I Believe in Garp" bumper stickers and sweat bands by 1980, many who had raved about America's "last Puritan" novelist were cowering amid Garpmania. The hitch was that the glowing reviews for the book had already been written Criticism of Irving's literary world--now often described as unreal and unnecessarily violent--had to wait until the publication last summer of Irving's The Hotel New Hampshire, which was panned despite hardcover sales far more brisk than its predecessor.

The film version of The World According to Garp debuts today, and every critic still ashamed over having praised the novel now has an opportunity to slam the blood and guts and love which follow T.S. Garp from his less-than-dignified conception through the notoriety and fame which dominate his later years. With Robin Williams of "Mork and Mindy" fame as Garp and a cast of unknowns playing the other principal characters, there may be a tendency towards pessimism even among the most avid Garpmaniacs. Irving's sprawling tive makes it easy for the cynic to believe that the powerful literary work will degenerate on film to a gory suburban piece of horror schlock, without traces of the charm and humor of the book.

BUT there is little reason to dislike the movie. Aggressive efforts by director George Roy Hill and screenwriter Steven Tesich have resulted in a manageable and infectious tale of family life and fate. Although the film remains very true to Irving's work, an immense amount of the peripheral zaniness and tragedy has been left out. The result is a charming story of a most committed father and husband tempered by the dangers--controlled and uncontrolled--to the safe existence which T.S. Garp vigilantly seeks for his wife and children.

The most attractive feature of the film is its good humor. The jokes will not sent audiences reeling, but instead produce the good-natured giggles which are more natural and frequent in the world according to everyone. The introductory shots of baby Garp being tossed in the air by his mother, rising and falling with a different animated expression each time, sets the lighthearted, warm tone. Williams' restrained antics, which produce most of the laughs, both entertain and soothe the Garp family and the audience. "Don't say, Ma-Ma, Duncan, say Da-Da," he admonishes his first baby, grimacing for added emphasis.

Williams finds a poignance in Garp which is appropriately reflected in the other characters as well. The hero becomes "Sir Scum" and creates frantic medieval battles for his sons on the front lawn. He is constantly staring at the kids in awe. "I will never write anything that lovely." Garp tells his wife Helen (Mary Beth Hurt) after tucking sons Duncan and Walt into bed. Helen provides a steady and more serious influence throughout, and Roberta Muldoon (John Lithgow), the tight end-turned-transsexual effectively becomes the best friend a Garp could ever have. Even the puzzling Jenny Fields (Glenn Close), mother of Garp and matriarch of a fanatical feminist movement, displays a commitment to her son which contributes to the film's encouraging spirit.

Tesich, who won an Oscar for writing Breaking Away, recreates the endearing kind of dialogue which made the Cutters of Indianapolis genuine heroes. Some comes directly from Irving, who advised throughout the filmmaking; but Tesich continues to develop sincere relationships around off-beat but believable discussions. Shopping for a house, Garp and his wife watch calmly as a one-man plane crashes into the second floor of a prospective purchase. Comments the hero: "The chances of another plane hitting our house are astronomical, Helen. We'll take it."

ALTHOUGH THE IRVING story as interpreted by Tesich and Williams is the primary strength of the film, Lithgow's Roberts also succeeds splendidly. Dustin Hoffman has received extensive publicity lately for his female role in the upcoming film Pearlie, but for originality, Lithgow scoops him. In a story about families overly concerned with their own self-preservation, it is Roberta--the social pariah--who is the most consistent source of spirit when danger arises. Roberta also plays "Sir Scum"; she hurdles shrubbery with Garp in a comic pursuit of reckless drivers, outpacing and protecting her friend. In the eerie feminist funeral for Garp's slain mother, where the protagonist must attend in drag, Roberta runs interference for Garp when he is unmasked. Roberta's is the first shoulder upon which everyone cries.

Close, as Jenny Fields, and Hurt, as Helen, also deliver solid performances when working with Williams or Lithgow. But these supporting actors fail to give their characters the magnetism Williams and Lithgow create. Garp's education, which occupies the first part of the film, gets the story off to a sluggish start because the scenes focus on Jenny Fields, whose character is underdeveloped in the film and whose eccentric behavior is thus cryptic.

In the book, Irving explained the strange woman and her ideas in great detail. Her evolution from rebellious Wellesley student into even more rebellious nurse and ultimately into the leader of a militant women's movement seems plausible. But the movie bypasses Jenny's younger days altogether, and the lack of background creates confusion. This is the one fundamental problem with the film version of Garp: In the generally successful effort to wrestle Irving's sprawling work into a story digestible in one sitting, Hill and Tesich have left out crucial scenes and subplots which support the main story and underscore its irony. Those who have not previously believed in Garp enough to buy a paperback copy will undoubtedly enjoy themselves. You can't beat the plot. But viewers may on several occasions wonder what all the craziness is about, and "Garpmania" may not suffice as an answer.

The reason for Carp's appeal is easy to identify: This is the story of a fellow whose family comes first, despite distractions such as a mother who attracts fanatics and a best friend who has never quite made it as a woman. Garp's infectious, good-humored and loving approach to life is summarized when he compares his own modest literary success with his mother's: "The same nobodys are going to line up not to buy [my new book]. Now I've just read that my mother's novel is going to be translated into Apache."

His quest for happiness suffers gargantuan attacks: two family assassinations, two ordinary deaths, a single accident which kills one, blinds another and castrates a third. In addition, there are a number of near car accidents and several mentions of death, fear of dying and "the arc of a life." In the real world, both tragedy and joy occur in smaller doses than in Garp's universe. The film, like Irving's novel, occasionally seems somewhat fantastical and distant as a result. But every time a romance or a killing becomes too outlandish. Garp beams, or bellows, or frets, and his fear once again reminds us of our own.