Note: Two weeks ago, I promised that I would be posting my latest Reviews By Request column this afternoon. However, due to circumstances that can best be summed up by the expression “Netflix issues”, I wasn’t able to obtain a copy of the requested film, Three on a Meathook, in time to view and review it. Apologies to requester “Cameron” and all fans of Reviews by Request. With luck, the review should run next Friday afternoon at the usual time.
Earlier this year, I had the good fortune to attend a talk given by director Milos Forman at Columbus’ Wexner Center for the Arts. The talk followed a screening of Forman’s first American film, Taking Off, and as Forman addressed the crowd, I marveled at how much his personality was reflected in his films. As he spoke, I sensed kindness, generosity of spirit, and a tendency to be amused by the possibilities of life. These qualities come through clearly in his best films, most particularly Taking Off, which has equal empathy for both sides of the generation gap, and Amadeus, which makes Mozart human-sized while giving his “murderer” Salieri a fair shake. However, none of these traits are apparent when one watches Forman’s most recent film, Goya’s Ghosts, an uncharacteristically dour and lifeless film from a filmmaker to whom one wouldn’t normally apply such terms.
From the 1980s onward, Forman has specialized in giving period pieces and biopics a unique flavor that’s a far cry from the extreme reverence afforded most titles in the genre. Look at the way he transformed the potentially tawdry story of Hustler founder Larry Flynt into a seriocomic tale of a most unlikely spokesperson for freedom of speech. Or look at Valmont, a perfectly fine take on Les Liaisons Dangereuses that feels almost humanistic, and which suffered greatly in comparison to Stephen Frears’ earlier version of the material. Forman’s work has always been distinguished by its unconventional point of view, and it was tantalizing to imagine what he would make of the life of Francisco Goya.
It helped that, like Mozart, Larry Flynt, and Andy Kaufman, Goya had a unique life worth recounting in cinematic form. Goya rose to prominence as a painter to Spain’s
ruling class, eventually rising to the rank of First Court Painter to King Charles IV. As he grew older, his work became darker and more sinister, a development that coincided with the onset of deafness and a subsequent physical and mental breakdown. After Napoleon’s army invaded Spain, Goya’s work depicted the savagery of war and the internal conflicts of his homeland, especially in his series called Black Paintings and a group of prints referred to as Disasters. But no matter who was in power, Goya’s had an antiauthoritarian streak, something that’s just as apparent in his surprisingly unflattering portraits of the royal family as it is in his macabre portrayals of the wars that consumed his homeland. It was this combination of genius and mischievousness that made Goya an ideal subject for a Milos Forman film.
Unfortunately, there are very few traces of this Goya in Goya’s Ghosts. Oh, Forman’s version of Goya (played by Stellan Skarsgård) has the occasional tendency to defy authority. However, Forman and co-screenwriter Jean-Claude Carrière don’t really bother to examine Goya as a person. In a highly unfortunate miscalculation by the filmmakers, Goya’s Ghosts focuses less on its title character than on his relationship with two fictional characters- the opportunistic Inquisitor Brother Lorenzo (Javier Bardem) and a merchant’s daughter and model named Ines (Natalie Portman, with a bizarre accent). The film is so concerned with this plot that it finds little time for the artist himself, to say nothing of his art.
One big problem is that Forman and Carrière barrel through their story like a rampaging bull, trampling all over anything that might potentially make the film, or the people in it, interesting. Consider an early scene in which Goya unveils his 
latest portrait of the Queen. As Goya proudly shows off his new work, the royals are somewhat less than impressed by the portrayal of Her Majesty as a frail, unattractive old woman, but Goya himself seems fairly amused by what he’s done. Finally- the Goya we came to see! However, after the King (played by Randy Quaid- yes, really) calls Goya to his chamber, he doesn’t even have time to dress him down before a messenger comes bearing news that the French Revolution has killed the King’s cousin, the French King Louis XVI. Then Forman cuts to a black screen bearing the words, “15 Years Later.” What happened in the mean time? Does Forman even care?
Another question I kept asking myself was “what is this movie about?” Clearly, it’s not about Goya. Perhaps Forman and Carrière saw the primary theme of the movie as the human costs of chaotic times. Ines spends fifteen years as the prisoner of the Inquisition, and during that time is impregnated by Brother Lorenzo, who sends the child to an orphanage. After the Inquisition turns on him, Lorenzo reveals himself not to be the true believer he makes himself out to be, but an opportunist who’s quick to join the winning team. It’s a theme that should be close to Forman’s heart, as someone who escaped Czechoslovakia just as the Iron Curtain slammed shut, but if he saw any of himself in the film’s story, I’ll be damned if I can find any evidence of it. In the end, Forman is less concerned with having any kind of stake in the story than with unnecessarily dramatic plot developments like when he reveals that Napoleon’s special counsel in Spain is no other than… Brother Lorenzo! Dun-dun-dunnnnnnnnnn!!!
Adrift in the middle of it all is Goya himself, an almost incidental player in a story that should have been his. As he and his interpreter searched all over for Ines’ long-lost daughter, all I could think of was about what he should have been doing instead. After Napoleon comes to Spain, we barely see Goya holding a brush, even though in actuality this was a prolific period for him. And did you know that Goya was married for almost forty years? You wouldn’t know it from watching Goya’s Ghosts. It’s a shame, because Stellan Skarsgård is quite good as Goya, and it’s easy to imagine him shining in a film that actually took the time to explore the man’s life. I don’t normally try to contrast the film I see to the one I wish I was watching, but Goya’s Ghosts is so dreary and uninspiring- and such a missed opportunity to boot- that I could think of little else.