A Man of No Importance Reviews

Albert Finney acts up a storm in this period drama about a would-be dramaturge in 1960s Dublin. Although Finney's character is a fervent admirer of Oscar Wilde, the film's oddly anachronistic coyness about homosexuality probably has the great Irish wit spinning in his grave. Alfred Byrne (Finney) is a streetcar conductor who dreams of staging Wilde's bizarre masterpiece Salome. When Adele Rice (Tara Fitzgerald), a beautiful English country girl, takes her place in the back of the tram, he is convinced he has at last found his heroine. He quickly enlists collaborators: his sensible sister and flatmate, Lily (Brenda Fricke), and Carney (Michael Gambon), the bilious local butcher who wants to play Herod. The local church agrees to donate space for the production on the strength of the biblical theme, provided that there's no "immodest dancing." Byrne, a closeted homosexual, secretly harbors an attraction for his rugged driver, Robbie (Rufus Sewell), but his doting celebration of Miss Rice annoys Carney, who had been the unchallenged star of the makeshift company. When Carney finally reads the text of the play, he's scandalized, and complains to church officials. He and Lily decide that Byrne should be married off for his own good, and promptly invite Miss Rice for tea. She confides that she doesn't merit the pedestal Byrne has reserved for her, while he struggles with his clandestine sexual longings. After Miss Rice reveals that she's pregnant, the play is in a shambles, and Byrne decides to take the Oscar Wilde route and rid himself of temptation by yielding to it; donning a scarf, foppish hat, and rouge, he visits a local gentlemen-only pub. A patron meets him in the alley, only to throttle him for his wallet, necessitating a call to the local constable. With his secret out in the open now, Byrne is excoriated by a callous bus company official; he replies with an impassioned defense of this "intellectual love." His passengers all rally to his side--including Miss Rice, who is on her way back to London to prepare for the baby, and Robbie, who assures him that they're still pals. Albert Finney's decline into hamminess continues; here he displays an acting style akin to a drowning man waving his arms to stay afloat. There are moments of genuine humor in the film, but Finney virtually sucks the oxygen out of the story, and even tempered pros like Gambon and Fricke can do little to save it. Despite the joys of watching a man who clearly loves his work, much of that work is now reduced to blarney and twinkle. Part of the blame must be laid to the relatively inexperienced director, Suri Krishnamma, who proves no match for Finney's larger-than-life persona. Even with a more subdued lead, however, the screenplay's cute, cuddly approach to Alfred's gayness would feel like a throwback to an earlier era. (Sexual situations, nudity, adult situations.)