Been There

by Jonathan Burrello

British actor, Peter Sellers, is known for his hilarious over-the-top performances. He is remembered fondly as the bumbling Inspector Jacques Clouseau from Blake Edwards’ “Pink Panther” series and for his multiple roles in Stanley Kubrick’s “Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb” (1964). He had more memorable roles in “The Mouse That Roared” (1959), “Lolita” (1962), “Murder By Death” (1976), and many other English and American films. A master of dialects and accents, Sellers’ comic timing was quite superb and many of the characters he played were just as real as they were silly. Peter Sellers was a brilliant actor and perhaps one of his most interesting roles comes from one of his last films. Hal Ashby’s “Being There” (1979) gave the great Peter Sellers a chance to play one of the most fascinating and subdued characters ever to be brought to the screen. It also got him a Golden Globe and an Oscar nomination.

“Being There” (based on a novel by Jerzy Kozinksi) is an immensely ambiguous film with plenty of metaphorical tributaries. It’s curious, clever, subtle, satirical, biting, and very funny. Peter Sellers plays Chance the gardener, a simple little man who has never been out in the world. He has the mind of a child and has only the capacity to parrot phrases and motions he watches on television. The only thing Chance knows how to do by himself is gardening. Some people have speculated that Chance has a learning disability or is perhaps autistic, but it really doesn’t matter because the movie is not so much about the man. “Being There” is really about how everyone perceives Chance.

The film begins with Chance waking up and going about his television and garden filled day. The maid, Louise (Ruth Attaway), enters and informs the simple man of the terrible news of the death of the old man (the owner of the house and the man who took Chance in). The information never really registers with Chance and so he continues on with his day until some attorneys (David Clennon and Fran Brill) show up and inform him that he must vacate the premises. With zero experience outside of the house, Chance packs up some things, dons his hat and with umbrella in hand he exits the only reality he has ever known, setting out for anywhere. To the tune of “Also Sprach Zarathustra” he walks off the front steps and into the chilled air of Washington D.C. in late autumn. The people are suddenly real and everywhere and will not simply go away with the adjustment of a remote control. When he is accidentally injured by a limousine, wealthy Eve Rand (Shirley MacLaine) insists he receive medical attention at her home. Through a slight miscommunication Chance becomes Chauncey Gardiner and is ushered into a new world.

Eve is married to Ben Rand (Melvyn Douglas in an Oscar winning performance), the extremely affluent and influential old businessman who is dying from aplastic anemia. His power and political clout have garnered him much respect and authority, but as Ben Rand reaches the end of his life he is troubled. Enter Chance. Ben meets Chance (who will hereafter be referred to as Chauncey) and invites him to spend a few days at his estate while his leg heals from the accident. At dinner we get the first taste of Chauncey’s incredible powers: his inane, simplistic reiterations and innocent, oblivious regurgitations coupled with his statements on gardening are misinterpreted as profound, intelligent adult conversation. Benjamin Rand’s health and mental stress make him especially susceptible to Chauncey’s simple charm. As a man who has been obviously feared and respected at a distance for much of his life, Ben finds Chauncey’s incredible peace and seemingly straightforward opinions refreshing. Chauncey is then introduced to Ben’s good friend, the President of the United States (Jack Warden). When asked to comment on the state of the nation’s economy, Chauncey, not understanding anything about the conversation, gives a glassy-eyed monologue on how to take care of a garden…which is then interpreted as a brilliant allegory for the seasons of economic growth. The President then quotes him on television.

Chauncey is then contacted by press and appears on television shows making more innocuous statements about gardening that are always mistook for staggering nuggets of down-to-earth wisdom. Meanwhile the President’s men and several reporters from America and agents from other countries are exhausting every resource available to them to determine who Chauncey Gardiner is. Who is this man who has just sprouted up in the political circle like a daffodil? No one can figure it out. He has no credit cards, driver’s license, medical history, or history of any kind. Chauncey Gardiner is a ghost. As one character notes, “It’s like he never existed.” Based on the backing of Rand and his being quoted by the President, Chauncey’s brilliance is only solidified and soon everyone believes him to be a quiet genius who might save the country. The President is losing sleep over him, Eve is falling in love with his seeming sexual control (in actuality it is mere indifference and obliviousness), and the entire country (with the exception of Louise who views his success on television with much surprise) thinks he’s amazing. The only character who suspects him to be anything else is Benjamin Rand’s private doctor (Richard Dysart), but even after learning the truth he cannot bring himself to reveal the news to his patient that his new best friend is a simpleton, because Chauncey’s presence at the Rand Estate has brought peace to Ben’s troubled mind.

Chauncey keeps moving up the political ladder without the slightest ounce of intent or effort. People see what they want to see. They hear their thoughts parroted back and find validation so he must be a genius. They see an incredibly controlled man with an intense persona and a dry, droll sense of humor. His words are simple, certain, and direct so they must be wise. People are pushing Chauncey up the ladder, and he obliviously permits it without understanding any of it.

SPOILER ALERT: read no further if you don’t want to know the end of the film.

The emotionally distraught Eve continuously throws herself into Chauncey’s akimbo arms. Eventually they do share a moment of romance…and confusion (and it’s pretty funny). Chauncey has already made a name for himself and has a secured a future as long as the same ignorant idiots keep misinterpreting his mindless utterances. Through it all Chauncey has displayed neither affection nor malevolence. He has remained cool, consistent, and distant from everything, so when Benjamin Rand dies we are surprised by the sudden moments of tenderness that follow. Ben has grown to love, appreciate, and respect Chauncey, and the doctor (who is also in the room) alone knows the truth, and Chauncey is simply watching a man die before him with total blankness…until some confused tears bubble up within him at Ben’s passing. Chauncey will miss the nice old man, Ben. Clearly he will now get Eve and it becomes more apparent that he might even take Benjamin Rand’s place with American Financial and possibly even become President. As the President gives Ben’s eulogy, Chauncey leaves the funeral and wanders around the estate. He caresses wilting plants and walks over to a drooping tree. What makes this final shot so captivating is that Chauncey has to walk on top of the water to get to the tree. Just as we begin to wonder if our eyes are playing a trick on us, the music climbs and Chauncey tests the depth of the water with his umbrella. Reading from a list of Benjamin Rand’s quotes the President reads aloud, “Life is a state of mind.” I’d say it is one of the most enigmatic and stirring scenes in film. The first time I saw it I was blown away.

One reason I feel the need to discuss the ending is because it is one of my favorite movie endings of all time. It also says so much about what we, the audience, thought we were watching too. The whole story functions as a fable for human perception and how one strategically placed (or was it mere chance) innocent can be projected as so much more without even trying. Life may be a state of mind, but whose mind is it a state of? What does the title even imply? Is Chauncey simply “being there” at the right place or time? Or does it find its roots in Heidegger’s words on existence? Does Chauncey have a learning disability? Or is he a tool used by the storytellers? Perhaps he is chance incarnate. Everything that happens to him is based on chance. How can he manipulate so many people? Or rather, how can so many people misinterpret his words and actions? Why can’t most people see through his vacant stare? Is it because he has been built up by those around him and he is protected under an umbrella of mass hypnosis? Does no one else notice him watching “Sesame Street” and “Mr. Rogers?” How much of this film is a red herring? How can he walk on water? Is it because he has become their Messiah? Or is it simply because he doesn’t know he can’t walk on water any more than he can lead the country or a have a real conversation? Every other instance of Chauncey’s success can be explained rationally by how other characters misread him, but now the audience is seeing a completely different impossibility and we cannot find a rational explanation for what our eyes witness. The mise-en-scene of the final shot (like much of the film) is very telling. The juxtaposition of the President quoting Benjamin Rand’s words against Chauncey walking on water to help a plant is enough (the metaphors are densely layered throughout much of the movie), but it mirrors another shot from the movie. The plant is in front of the Rand Estate so it appears for a moment that he is walking straight to the house (earlier a similar prophetic shot is depicted of him wandering aimlessly, but directly toward the Capital Building). He’s not a social climber, he is a symbol for the weak pretensions within us all. We see what we think we see. Maybe Chance is all an illusion.

Peter Sellers’ performance is remarkably restrained and subdued. He carries the film well and the supporting cast from Dysart to Douglas to MacLaine to Warden are all wonderful. Douglas definitely deserved the Oscar. The film is human and brilliant (or maybe that’s just how I mistakenly perceive it). It’s beautifully shot and splendidly acted and the script is tight and clever. After seeing “Being There” several times I am no less intrigued after each viewing and I am constantly gleaning new insights. It’s a fascinating film with plenty to think about. I strongly recommend watching it if you haven’t already…and sorry if I ruined the ending for you.

One more ambiguous curve-ball director Hal Ashby throws at us is a blooper reel during the end credits. This was rather unusual back in 1979.

picture references:

collider.com

aintitcool.com

dvdbeaver.com

mdk.org.pl

castrotheater.com