By MARK GRIFFIN
Staff Writer
 

In fact, the entire Jennifer Jason Leigh oeuvre -- from her martyred trollop in "Last Exit To Brooklyn" to her manic Rosalind Russell tribute in "The Hudsucker Proxy" -- seems to be a well intentioned exercise in acting so you'll notice. She's more than qualified at the lady's game. At times she's working like crazy to please the audience but the wheels are always turning for everyone to see. Nevertheless, Leigh does have her moments. In "Washington Square," she fleetingly succeeds in winning us over with something as simple as the wistful smile she exhibits when she believes her shady suitor is genuinely in love with her and not just her bulging inheritance. Unfettered by self reflexive constraints, Leigh breaks through at last and genuinely touches us. If only for a second.

As the avaricious scalawag Morris Townsend, Ben Chaplin (no relation to Charlie and probably best known as the likeable schmoe sandwiched between Uma Thurman and Janeane Garofalo in "The Truth About Cats and Dogs") comes off as needy and shamelessly gold digging right from the get go, thus spoiling any suspense of the "Gee, maybe he really does love her" variety. The role requires the slick pretense of charm and a glossy veneer of respectability, neither of which Chaplin possesses.

What Chaplin and Leigh do suggest is the image of two presumptuous whipper snappers, running amok in grandma's attic - playing dress up and attempting to cloak their Generation X-ness in ascots and crinolines while remaining oblivious to the anachronistic lapses in their own phrasing of Carol Doyle's suspiciously up to date dialogue.

Both leads, and in fact, "Washington Square" in its' entirety, are easily outclassed and overshadowed by director William Wyler's original 1949 film version, which in the name of marketability was re-titled "The Heiress." Olivia de Havilland snagged an Oscar for her engrossing star turn as a more intense, vengeful Catherine Sloper and Wyler's finely tuned melodrama featured the striking soignee of newcomer Montgomery Clift (in only his third film) as an elegantly roguish Morris Townsend. The 1997 incarnation of "Washington Square" eschews star dynamics and heightened theatricality in favor of a more "naturalistic" approach. Even in pivotal moments, director Agnieezka Holland seems afraid of making a scene.

In Wyler's capable hands, the same material is scintillating and electric - even the most mundane character exchanges simmer with an underlying tension. (Decades later, Martin Scorsese would attempt a similar approach with his ambitious mounting of "The Age of Innocence," (Columbia Pictures, 1993) using Wyler's "The Heiress" as a model.)

Perhaps the most telling difference between the two versions can be found moments before the credits roll. Wyler's film ends with a desperate Clift pounding on the bolted door of an unforgiving Olivia de Havilland. Holland concludes her film with a lingering shot of Leigh as she contemplates her sealed fate as an unloved spinster - it's more ambiguously arty, certainly more true to life, yet far less cinematically satisfying. When "Washington Square" was over, I found myself pining for the glorious black and white fluidity of "The Heiress."

One can only wonder why Hollywood deliriously insists on re-making some of the finest films ever made. I mean, did we really need the recent spate of pale, second hand copies of such screen classics as "Born Yesterday," "Sabrina," "Love Affair," "101 Dalmatians," "Miracle on 34th Street" and countless others? None of these tired retreads contained even an ounce of the charm, spirit and grace of their ancestral original.

Where these colorless impostors and "Washington Square" are concerned, my advice is simple: make it a Blockbuster night.

Correction: Richard Boleslawski's film, "Theodoa Goes Wild" (Columbia Pictures, 1936) was misidentified as "Theodore Goes Wild" in the October 10 issue of the Bates Student.