Arthur Dent is played by Martin Freeman, one of the reigning champs of put-upon white collar Englishness. Freeman is perhaps the sorriest, saddest, most soul-crushed of all the drones in the BBC series “The Office,” a show so brilliant that I couldn’t watch more than two episodes without feeling ill. He plays Arthur basically the same: a little man who can’t even seem to get his little dreams to come true. He is baffled, confused, irritable, and in constant search for a nice cup of tea. In short, he’s about as far as you can get from Flash Gordon.
The scene-stealer is Sam Rockwell as the president of the universe, Zaphod Beeblebrox, who kidnapped himself, stole the experimental spaceship, and wants to find the meaning of everything because “presidential fame is passing.” Rockwell delivers one of those bizarre, wildly over-the-top performances that you’ll either love or you’ll hate. He prides himself on being the worst-dressed creature in the cosmos, never seems to take any danger seriously, forgets names, and explains that you can’t be president with your entire brain intact. This is why he has a second head underneath his first, where he apparently keeps his id, and every other part of his mind deemed “un-presidential.” At one point, this second head has to be removed, leaving him with only half a brain. This is why he mistakes a hail of gunfire for a disco, has to wear a special helmet to concentrate, and finds himself saying things like “who are we rescuing again?” In the news footage of his kidnap of himself, the vice-president of the universe and countless other dignitaries mostly seem confused. His presidential portrait shows him winking and giving two thumbs up.
Rockwell, you will remember, was the doomed extra in “GalaxyQuest,” the inventor of “The Gong Show” in “Confessions of a Dangerous Mind,” and Nick Cage’s protégé in “Matchstick Men.” He brings all that goofiness, and more, to bear in a role that requires constant grinning, bright white teeth, and lots of snapping and pointing. A friend and I reached the conclusion that his performance is based in equal parts on the loudest outbursts of Tom Cruise and the dumbest public appearances of George W. Bush.
Arthur and his friends also meet character actors galore. Marvin the Paranoid Android is programmed to always be depressed. While everyone else is gaping in wonder at a far-off world, he says “Incredible…it’s even uglier than I thought it would be.” Diminutive actor Warwick Davis, star of “Willow” and featured in innumerable “Star Wars” movies, provides our large-headed robot with his sad saunter, while no less than Alan Rickman (“Die Hard,” “Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves”) provides the voice. Gaunt Bill Nighy (“Love Actually”), who is rapidly becoming one of my favorite thespians to pop up in smaller roles, plays the planet-builder Slottibartfast with long hair and a necktie. He gets to say “I do not know this cheese of which you speak.”
John Malkovich has a walk-on as Zaphod’s competitor in the previous election, and even Helen Mirren is in there somewhere, perhaps as the voice of one of the monsters. Speaking of the 1981 BBC version—I did mention that earlier, didn’t I?—this new version makes at least 3 direct allusions to it. The same rambling banjo theme music can be heard; the older, cheaper Marvin the Paranoid Android is shown waiting in line on the Vogon homeworld; and the BBC’s Arthur Dent has an unblinking cameo as a recording left by the planet-builders.
What doesn’t work so well is the amount of importance placed on the romance between Arthur and his old girlfriend Trisha (Zooey Deschanel of “All the Real Girls”). I understand its thematic importance—that in this crazy universe it’s best to cling to personal relationships for joy and comfort—but the relationship lacks zing. As Ford Prefect, the disguised alien who rescues Arthur from Earth, Mos Def (“The Italian Job”) is given little too do once he and Arthur are in the company of Zaphod and Trish. Mos Def, if his unconventional moniker is any indicator, must be a pop musician of some kind, and, as is usually the case with pop musicians-turned-actors, has a light, casual approach that is useful amidst all the weirdness.
The 1981 version solves both these problems by making “The Hitchhiker’s” key relationship not a romance between Arthur and Trisha, but the friendship between Arthur and Ford. Arthur’s feelings toward Trisha basically terminate with his irritation over Zaphod stealing her out from under him with the line “hey, baby, you wanna see my spaceship?” The objective remains the same, but it’s Trisha and not Ford that becomes the tertiary character, providing the occasional voice of reason and supplying insight enough to keep the plot moving, before slipping back into the background. Why is this arrangement preferable? The reasons are myriad—male characters are always allowed to be more funny in these kinds of movies, a romantic subplot is cliché and takes more time, Ford is an alien and Arthur is a human—but maybe it’s just because Ford shows up in the movie first and we feel awkward to watch him shuttled into the background.
Anyway, it’s debatable whether “The Hitchhiker’s Guide” will be a box-office success. Purists will be offended by how much is changed while the inexperienced may simply be lost. Why Ford Prefect is named Ford Prefect is not explained, nor is the importance of towels to interstellar travel. As always, be wary of those who slam the movie because of its infidelity to its source material; mostly they want to just show off how well they know the books. Adams himself approved of what he saw of the movie before his death and is given an executive producer credit, from beyond the grave. It reveals much about him that he wanted his books to be filmed so breezily and with such a light heart. It’s a relief that this film is less “Independence Day” and more a cross between “Futurama” and “The Muppet Show.”
Finished Monday, May 2nd, 2005
Copyright © 2005 Friday & Saturday Night
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