FilmBlather.com

"Give up the girl, Achilles."

There is considerable daring going on here: the adaptation of a supposedly "unfilmable" Philip Roth novel, the attempt to market same to mainstream audiences and, perhaps most notably, the casting of Anthony Hopkins as a light-skinned black man. The Human Stain has drawn considerable fire for that last, and I expect that to continue when the film is unleashed upon the world. But while it can be argued that Hopkins carries too much baggage to play against his race, one suspects that many of these naysayers made up their minds upon learning of the role's nature. I, for one, maintain that the man can play anything.

You may have noticed that I have decided not to dodge around the dramatic revelation of the protagonist's race, which is made at the end of the first act. When I spoke to director Robert Benton, he acknowledged that the secret would be divulged everywhere one looks, and expressed hope that people would see the film anyway, and then see it again. And while going in cold is probably preferable, much is not lost if you ignored my stern warning above; not only did I already know Coleman Silk's racial identity, but I had been so deluged with information that I was sure that the race factor was Miramax's entire marketing ploy. Only now, watching the trailer, do I realize that the studio is making a half-hearted effort to keep the twist under wraps.

The Human Stain makes subtle mistakes. I could sense that all was not right, but nothing jumped out at me; it was a frustrating experience, though I think I now have the problems pegged. You almost have to admire the way Benton and screenwriter Nicholas Meyer so surreptitously try to sneak things by us: consider the scene in which Silk (Hopkins) meets writer Nathan Zuckerman (Gary Sinise). Silk has just surrendered his position as tenured and acclaimed classics professor at a university over an unjust accusation of racism -- he referred to two persistently absent African-American (though not to his knowledge) students as "spooks." His wife's heart gave out upon hearing of the news. So here is Silk, randomly barging into Zuckerman's secluded cabin, at night and without so much as a warning phone call, telling the fiction (!) writer that his next project will be penning a book about Silk's plight. Benton's confidence in storytelling might carry you past this, but I don't buy it: who would do a thing like that? And wouldn't any reasonable person on the other end assume that Silk was crazy, and maybe call the police?

A nitpick, I grant you. But it's hardly a coincidence that every scene set in the present day -- or actually a few years ago; this might be the first movie to ever use the Monica Lewinsky scandal as period backdrop -- is somehow off. Silk eventually develops a relationship with a troubled, rough-around-the-edges young janitor (Nicole Kidman), but their romance is always rushed, Kidman's character woefully underdeveloped. There is a scene where Silk's lawyer tells him that he should forget the girl, for his own good, and though the indignant Silk tells the guy that he "never wants to see his lily-white face again," all I could think was yeah, he damn well should.

This contrasts with the extended flashback scenes, which are lush, rich and often heartbreaking. Here Silk is played by Wentworth Miller, a young actor whom I have not seen before (the IMDb informs me that he had a role in Underworld, the Kate Beckinsale vampires vs. werewolves movie, but I do not remember it), though I'm fairly sure I will see him again. Set in the months before Silk makes his decision to conceal his race from everyone, including his future wife, these flashbacks are achingly beautiful, and for the first time in my life, I yearned for Anthony Hopkins to be off the screen. The confrontation between young Coleman and his mother is one of the best scenes of the year.

So was Hopkins the wrong choice to play Coleman Silk? Not really, though letting him keep his trademark Welsh accent was probably a mistake. It's the script Hopkins is handed that nearly defeats the movie. The conflicts his character faces are huge, monumental, but when it is set in the present, the film rushes headlong from scene to scene as if its 106 minute running time was an absolute maximum. And we barely get to know Nicole Kidman.