_Angels and Insects_ 


     Philip Haas' _Angels and Insects_ is trippy. Alternately awkward and
ravishing, it's a little like Peter Greenaway's movies in its excessive
metaphorical and formal accounting (its protagonist is a Victorian
scientist, so the scene is set for some voracious enumerating). It recalls
Merchant-Ivory movies in its attention to neurotic British classism, and
it's even reminiscent of Lawrence Kasdan's _Body Heat_, in its tracking of
a dimwitted hero's refusal to see the Terrible Secret at the dead-center
of his world. 

     All of this makes the film compelling, but in a schizzy way. It's
less suspenseful than it is annoying (as in, get on with it already), more
precise than it is seductive. Beneath its intricate visual surface, it
builds a tension between what its audience knows and what its characters
resist knowing. It's a nervy film, assiduously delving into a narrative by
emotional innuendo rather than flashy plot turns, leading you inside a
house full of haughty, difficult principals, where the servants are
trained to hide their faces against the wall when a family member passes
by. Once in, you're not even allowed to think about leaving.  

     William Adamson (Mark Rylance), dedicated bug hunter and self-named
insect expert, has just returned to England from adventures in the Amazon
jungle. (The film opens with shots of him dancing with some
heavy-breathing "natives." He's very white, they're very painted. The
tension mounts: civilization versus nature, repression versus expression,
yadda yadda.) His ship wrecked on the way home, so he's lost most of the
specimens he's collected during his years-long expedition. 

	Luckily (or so it seems at first) he has managed to salvage a
couple of beautifully colored butterflies on pins in a box, which he
presents to his infinitely patient benefactor, Lord Alabaster (Jeremy
Kemp). Actually, William is hoping that these specimens, called Morpho
Eugenia (which is the title of the film's inspiration, a novella by A.S.
Byatt) will impress Lord Alabastor's weird and lovely daughter, who also
happens to be named Eugenia (Patsy Kensit). 

     Eugenia is immediately vibrant in her drawing room context. At the
ball where she meets William, she's wearing an incredible blue dress that
just about knocks the film's entire color scale out of whack. Her
super-pale skin and blond hair make her resemble a delicate creature, and
he's entranced (you can almost see him gulp). But his lack of social
skills (attributable to his extended stay in the jungle) means that he
misses her vague state of distress (over the recent suicide of her
fiance), and his eagerly professed affections make her literally run out
the door. 

     Yet endeavoring to win her heart, William stages an elaborate display
in the conservatory: hundreds of butterflies that flitter all over her as
she enters the space. At first alarmed, and then enthralled, Eugenia
agrees to come back that evening for a second demonstration. The next
show, however, frightens her. Seeing that he's inspecting a female moth as
it emerges from a cocoon, she leans in close for a better look (he
explains that the moth is "at her most vulnerable at the moment of
metamorphosis"). Suddenly there are moths all over Eugenia - they flock to
her as if she were a flame herself (symbolism ho!). Big brown and grey
fuzzy things are clinging to her shimmery silver gown. She frets, he feels
terrible, she agrees to marry him. 
     
     It's clear to us that Eugenia is ready to say yes because her
younger, somewhat coarser sister is about to be wed (her sense of sisterly
competition is fierce). William is able to overlook her pragmatism, able
to believe that she will come to love him as he adores her. Eugenia's
class-conscious brother, Edgar (Douglass Henshall), is more than a little
put out by the news of their marriage: he tries to pick a fight with his
terse brother-to-be, accuses him of having crass financial interests and
of being generally ignorant: "You are underbred, sir!" 

     That William won't stand up to these challenges both underlines and
dissipates Edgar's charges. (That brother and sister look so much alike
has to do with careful casting and make-up, and seems to stake Edgar's
blood-claim visibly.) William doesn't play the social status game in quite
the same way as his new relatives (he won't make idle "manly'' threats or
abuse the servants), but he's so drawn to the flame of their privilege
(and Eugenia's embodiment of same) that he habitually overlooks his wife's
moodiness and meanness. 

	That she only consents to sex with him on rare occasions - and
miraculously produces children every time - might seem odd, but then
again, he feels out of his element, he can't be sure of his own
perceptions. In a remarkable performance, Rylance conveys William's
consternation with small gestures and glances: you can almost see the
wheels slowly turning behind his furrowed brow as he looks toward her
locked door. 

     There's another complication for William, in the person of Matty
Crompton (Kristen Scott Thomas, survivor of "Four Weddings and a Funeral"
and "Bitter Moon"), a live-in teacher for the household's younger girls
(three of them, always in matching dresses, which is a marvelous effect: 
they bend as one, looking close to the ground to inspect various plants
and insects during their "expeditions" on estate grounds). 

	Matty, like William, has a passion for bugs. Her intellectual
pursuits are unseemly "for a woman," but she is persistent, eventually
convincing William to take up a joint project: he writes and she
illustrates a book about a colony of killer red ants. Though he's yearning
to travel again, she insists that he focus his observations on things
"close to home." 

     Cue ominous music. 

     While the pace is slow (this situation continues for years), _Angels
and Insects_ works its visuals. The women are especially well-used as
spectacular props for William's dilemma: Scott Thomas' dour black costumes
hardly hide Matty's energy (you find yourself waiting for the moment when
she lets her hair down), just as Kensit's luminous gowns don't exactly
cover up Eugenia's disturbing flatness (except to won't-get-a-clue
William). The plot is straight-ahead Victorian melodrama (whatever that
might mean), but the movie is more perverse than that, oscillating between
obvious metaphor and exquisite pictures, see-through characters and some
good performances. But it's not long before you're feeling like you're
stuck on some pins in a box.