Bean. - movie reviews

Bean (Gramercy Pictures), the full-length feature based on the oddball British TV character created by Rowan Atkinson is apparently a runaway hit in Europe. As someone who has enjoyed many of Bean's comic sketches on TV, I was surprised to find that the movie often falls flat.

Atkinson himself is a world-class comedian with a wonderfully elastic face, as teenage fans of the Black Adder (another of his incarnations) discovered some time back, and older audiences ratified when they met him as an incompetent minister in "Four Weddings and a Funeral." Even a staid NCR editor (if there is one) will find it hard not to laugh when, early in the movie, Bean completes his morning ritual of shaving his nose and tongue, and goes on to construct his morning coffee in stages -- imbibing instant coffee, sugar, and milk before pouring hot water into his throat.

And the film's basic situation, though wildly improbable, is adequate. Bean, a spectacularly incompetent security guard at the Royal National Gallery in London, is sent to Los Angeles to accompany the portrait of Whistler's mother, which has been purchased by the Grierson Gallery and is to be unveiled with high ceremony and a learned talk.

The problem is, though there are a few laugh-out-loud moments, we soon begin to feel that Atkinson -- and the movie -- are trying too hard. It's not only that there are no moments of repose (as when a Marx Brothers farce slows down to let Chico play the piano or Harpo the harp) but that Atkinson isn't given anyone to play against. W. C. Fields always had recognizable targets for his spleen -- a child, a domineering wife, the law. When Bean gets to Los Angeles, the gallery curator, David Langley (Peter MacNichol) invites him to stay with his family, but there is no genuine interaction, except possibly with Langley's little boy. David keeps telling his wife, Alison (Pamela Reed), that behind Bean's twitches and snorts there is profound genius, but after her guest uses the oven to dry his underpants, she's off to her mother's, taking along both of the children.

Things grow even more desperate when Bean sneezes on "Whistler's Mother," virtually destroys the painting by trying to repair his mistake. An improvised restoration is ingenious, however, and Bean's speech at the much bally-hooed unveiling successfully mocks the pretensions of art criticism. But the movie doesn't know how to quit when ifs ahead. The next thing you know Bean is in a hospital emergency room, and because his name tag reads "Dr Bean," he's pressed into performing a juvenile operation.

Children of all ages will enjoy Atkinson's instinct for anarchy, but many of the movie's gags would be more digestible in the briefer framework of a TV sketch. In "Bean" nothing is as funny (or observant) as the bit on TV not long back in which he sits down on a park bench next to a gentleman trying to eat a quiet lunch, and slowly takes the makings of his own meal from his coat, using his sock to mix the salad. The true Bean persona is quieter than in the movie, relentlessly pursuing his own purposes, oblivious to the way his antics may disturb his neighbor.

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