There’s really only one good reason to see The Lady
in the Van, the new film adaptation of Alan Bennett’s hit 1999 play, and
that’s Maggie Smith’s performance in the title role. Smith is one of those
actresses at whom the dubious term “legend” is flung so readily that it’s
become all too easy to take her for granted. More worryingly, the term also
serves to obscure her incredible, enduring, inventive artistry as a performer. Smith
demonstrates that artistry at every level in this film , going beyond her excellent
recent work in Quartet (2012) to deliver one of her all-time
great screen performances.
Playing Miss Mary Shepherd, the homeless
woman who pitched up on Bennett’s Camden
street, ended up moving into his driveway, and stayed there for some 15 years, Smith
captures every shade of the character’s combined defensiveness and exhibitionism. Considering
that she played the role on stage, and on radio, the freshness of Smith’s
work here is little short of amazing. Nothing seems set or forced; rather, every
gesture and inflection feels organic and
spontaneous. As Smith plays the role, the van seems an extension of Miss Shepherd’s physical being. Splashing
yellow paint over the vehicle, her Miss S. is clearly in her dotty element. Moreover, Smith goes beyond the individual character
to create an iconic presence here: an exasperating,
admirable, hilarious, and deeply moving
portrait of eccentricity.
The Lady in the Van badly needs the
richness and depth that Smith brings to it, because, in pretty much all other
aspects, the film is a dud. The movie was directed by Nicholas Hytner, who also
directed the play in its original stage incarnation, and if ever there was a work
that needed a director with more critical distance on the material then it’s this one. Hytner demonstrated his
lack of judgement when it comes to
Bennett’s writing as Artistic Director of the National Theatre when he staged the playwright’s awful play People in 2011, a drafty whinge about the National Trust (!) that, if submitted by a
new writer, would doubtless have been dumped in the nearest bin.
Here, working from an adaptation by Bennett
himself, Hytner shows the same kind of
unseemly reverence for Bennett’s writing. The meta-apparatus of the play (including the device of having two Bennetts as characters interacting and expressing his conflicted attitude to Miss Shepherd) is accentuated here. A rare expressive image - such as Miss S. being raised into an ambulance - is spoiled by having Bennett (Alex Jennings) editorialising
over it in voice-over, telling us what
we’re being shown. Complete with
pointless cameos from each of The History Boys actors, the
end result is that the material seems even more smug, arch and masturbatory on
screen than it did on stage.
As in his Untold
Stories memoir, Bennett’s self-presentation in
The Lady in the Van treads a somewhat sneaky line, with apparent self-deprecation barely concealing hefty self-regard. On the one
hand, he’s constantly flagging up the fact that his involvement with Miss Shepherd was based around his desire to exploit her as a colourful character in
his writing. (The theme of the piece is, ultimately, the use that writers make of
other people and real experience in their literary work.) On the other
hand, Bennett is really showing us just how much more caring his attitude to Miss S. was when compared to most of his would-be liberal neighbours: whether he’s cleaning up her stools or
facing off with her social worker (Cecilia Noble). As often at his weakest, Bennett is subtly judgemental about
everyone here, sometimes in the weirdest of ways.
Apart from Smith (and Gwen Taylor, who has a few effective
moments as Bennett’s Mam), none of the cast really gets the opportunity to distinguish themselves.
As the Camden neighbours, Frances de la Tour and Nicholas Burns drift in and
out to little effect; while Deborah Findlay and Roger Allam keep popping up to contribute unfortunate remarks about Bennett’s writing - before we get to see a
National Theatre audience whooping their approval at his latest play, just to confirm the
playwright’s greatness, after all. There’s no doubt that Alex Jennings gives
good Bennett(s), but his work here remains an impersonation, no more, no
less.
Lacking the zest of Bennett’s screen-writing at its best
(1984's A Private Function, say), The Lady in the
Van gets worse as it goes along, in terms of both story-telling and
style. The ending – featuring a horrendous "ascension", a Day for
Night flourish, and – yup – a cameo from Bennett himself – is flagrantly embarrassing. Oddest of all, perhaps, is the strong suggestion that Bennett, now blissfully
partnered, won’t need to access his "creative" side any more. Alongside Smith’s stunning performance, that’s pretty
much the only good news that The Lady in the Van offers.
