The Belly of On Architect Blu-Ray Review
Peter Greenaway’s The Belly of an Architect (1987) is a perfect arthouse evocation of the artist’s obsession for his craft that; like Gary Cooper in The Fountainhead (1949) he struggles between his craft and being a rounded human being. But it is more than this; it also pays homage to the classical tradition of art and architecture through the visual language of a 20th century art form – cinema. This is played out on to what some may see on a pretentious level while also paying homage to the visual language of art and architecture as Vasari had done during the Renaissance. The architect of the title obsesses over his mortality, the work of a visionary architect of the Enlightenment who famously actually produced very little (just like Brian Dennehy’s eponymous hero), Etienne-Louis Boullée, an eccentric architect that director Peter Greenaway can clearly relate to; Greenaway has demonstrated his aesthetic enjoyment of this artistic period which permeates through many of his films, proving himself to be the ultimate filmmaker of Postmodern cinema. In an early scene in the film, the architect and his wife are dining with distinguished guests in front of the Pantheon, demonstrating clearly how much Greenaway is enjoying the aesthetic symmetry of classical architecture as he goes on to talk about Sir Isaac Newton as one of his heroes. As the Postmodern artist, Greenaway then uses a £1 note as a symbol of Newton’s continuing importance in his theory of gravity (played out by protagonist Stourley Kracklite’s own suicide).
The story follows that of an American architect called Kracklite (played by Dennehy) who travels to Rome with his wife to curate an exhibition on Boullée and while in this classical city he goes through his own journey (lasting exactly 9 months). While in Rome he discovers that he is terminally ill with stomach cancer, becomes estranged from his wife who is conducting an affair and in the he meantime obsesses over Boullée’s geometrical and symmetrical work. Beautifully shot by Sacha Vierney, a director who had previously worked with Luis Buñuel and Alain Resnais in which every shot, as usual in a Greenaway film is perfectly framed (showing much of the director’s hand in the mise-en-scéne) as though we are looking at a painting by Vermeer, Nicolas Poussin or a Leonardo da Vinci. Alongside this there are many shots of the classic buildings of Rome, be they from Ancient Rome, the Renaissance, the Baroque or Enlightenment periods which Greenaway clearly takes delight in. Names and shots of the buildings trip off the tongue like a list; it is the continuous shots and montages of Boulée’s work that Greenaway is equally enjoying as Kracklite desperately tries to re-evaluate this architect’s visually imaginative work.
As the architect Krakolite’s cancer gets worse he begins to self obsess over his large soft belly and he becomes obsessed with the belly of a Roman sculpture of Augustus. These visuals are driven along by Wim Merten’s score (not this time by Michael Nyman, although close in style). The contrasts between the perfect forms of marble sculpture and the fragile soft human form of flesh is particularly effective when he repeatedly photocopies photographs of the Augustus sculpture until he can place it over his own extended belly. Later on after Kracklite visits the Trevi fountain he then becomes fascinated with the sculpture of Oceanus at the head of the fountain. As his illness progresses the architect becomes more sexual, drinks hard, obsesses over the ego and evermore debauched as the cancer eats away at him as the Romans seem to devour themselves and destroy their own past (this is referenced several times). Towards the end of the film Kracklite’s final moral collapse comes with a drunken attack against fine diners in front of the Pantheon in a scene that contrasts with the sophistication of him dining in front of the building earlier on near the beginning of the film.
The Belly of an Architect is arguably one of Greenaway’s best homages to art and the artist. Greenaway’s aesthetic vision nearly always outweighs any human warmth in his films. But this film is an exception as Dennehy movingly journeys through moral degradation and humiliation to his final demise. Greenaway is an arthouse auteur; he uses Sacha Vierney’s vivid cinematography to express the symbols of colour and, on Greenaway’s instruction he also composes his scenes architecturally and this is beautifully played out on the pristine Blu-ray transfer in Greenaway’s best location shooting. Also included on this packed BFI disc is a DVD-ROM which contains original script, press packs and music score. Also included are the usual solid essays you would expect from BFI editions and short biographies on Greenaway, Merten and Vierney as well as a curious short documentary by the director on designer Terence Conran with a soundtrack by Michael Nyman.
Chris Hick