Being TherePeople are predisposed to profiling others, projecting their expectations about them and filling in the blanks to form a "picture" of them in their minds. Following that metaphor, someone like Chance (Peter Sellers) has enough negative space to qualify as "abstract art". Being There is a political and social satire about an erstwhile gardener (Chance) who resided in a sequestered home in Washington D.C. in veritable isolation, until his guardian--who he calls "the old man"--passes away. Chance is left to fend for himself in a world he has only known through a television screen.
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Adapted by Hal Ashby from the novel written by Jerzy Kosiński, Being There is a comedy that remains relevant in an age where opinions espoused by people in authority have a tendency to become "fact". Chance aimlessly wanders through the streets of Washington D.C., until he has a "chance" encounter (apologies) with a limousine transporting Eve Rand (Shirley MacLaine). Eve is the wife of a political kingmaker and finance mogul named Ben Rand (Melvyn Douglas), who has been in hospice care at his mansion. Chance is misidentified as a sophisticated businessman named "Chauncey Gardiner", after a snifter of brandy goes down the wrong pipe. Chance looks the part of a well-to-do "one percenter" in the tailored suits he was allowed to wear that once belonged to his deceased guardian, and he carries himself with a quiet composure that suggests confidence and culture. As a result of this innocent facade, Chance quickly earns the admiration and trust of Ben, the affection of Eve, and becomes an accidental celebrity overnight when the President of the United States (Jack Warden) quotes (well, misquotes) Chance on national television. The humor in Being There comes from the dramatic irony that Chance is not an educated, sophisticated, and urbane gentleman of the old school, but is a kind simpleton who has been raised by television, doesn't know how to read or write, and relates all of his world experiences to his hobby--which is gardening. It is vaguely suggested that Chance is the illegitimate son of the old man, who let a squadron of televisions handle the parenting, while a maid named Louise (Ruth Attaway) gave him his meals. After the old man dies, Chance is turned out of his home by an ambitious (if unsympathetic) young attorney named Thomas Franklin (David Clennon), and onto the scary, dilapidated streets in a rundown section of Washington D.C.; a jazzy riff on "Also sprach Zarathustra" heralds his emergence into this brave, new world. Chance doesn't understand the reality of what is happening to him, but because he is so mild and often says "I understand" when he really doesn't, he isn't taken into an institution or shelter. It's a miracle that Eve's chauffeur bumps him with the limousine, which becomes the catalyst for his introduction into a society accustomed to eccentrics and oddballs: politics.
Being There is like a modern adaptation of Voltaire's satire, "Candide", criticizing a society that is so self-obsessed, that it convinces itself that Chance is the savior to their assorted problems. No one is immune to this mass neurosis, except perhaps Ben's resident physician, Dr. Robert Allenby (Richard A. Dysart). Eve describes Chance as "intense" because he avoids small talk and changes the channel in the limo to watch the incongruous cartoon, Basketball Jones. Ben is a businessman who has retained his mental acuity despite his age and failing health; he claims that he likes Chance because he is "direct" and doesn't "bandy words", yet interprets Chance's oblique statements as contemplative metaphors. Chance talks of seasons in the garden during an informal meeting between Ben and the President, who in turn repurposes his words for his own speech, and spices it up to fuel his approval rating. The press orbiting Capitol Hill finds the enigmatic Chance's anonymity too intriguing to let go, and rumors about his background sprout up like weeds in one of Chance's proverbial (or literal) gardens. The irony is that Chance never tries to deceive anyone--it's clear that he doesn't know how. Everyone else who considers themselves to be sophisticated, educated, and powerful fool themselves because they are afraid to admit that they don't understand Chance. Eve longs for physical love since her much older husband is now incapable of the act, and sees Chance--who is closer in age to her--as a successor, convincing herself that his silence is a reflection of his masculinity. Ben tells Chance that he values his "strength", and the rather one-sided conversations they have leads Ben to believe that Chance is a fellow financial wizard who shares his sense of values. Even an encounter with a Soviet ambassador (Richard Basehart) has the dignitary thinking that Chance knows obscure fables from his homeland (in Russian, no less), solely because he happens to chuckle at the right time during his story.
In the background of Chance's meandering odyssey through the world of the power elite, there are moments that depict the nation's capital as a city that has been neglected by these titans of industry--the very world Chance first steps into when he leaves his life of privilege. People of color shuffle through the dingy streets, and graffiti condemns whites for the wealth disparity; Louise adds a cynical comment to this effect after she sees Chance on a talk show one night. A gang accosts Chance on the streets; his response to this threat is to try to "change the channel" by pointing a remote control at the hoodlum. Chance isn't a racist, and this doesn't come from a place of hatred or ignorance, but from childlike naivete. This social commentary posits that there is a divide between race, education, and wealth and positions of power and social standing, and that people who are in power take things for granted and make assumptions on superficial bases. It's shocking to see how easily Chance integrates himself into the upper social and political strata without trying, and speaks to the illusion of power that exists in government; even the President becomes literally impotent when his public image is criticized. By the conclusion of Being There, Chance is being seriously considered as a future presidential candidate by the rich and powerful in Washington, solely because he is popular, without regard for any meaningful qualifications. Chance is no messiah--the ending pokes fun at this--but is emblematic of a society made simple by television, and is thus the leader that it deserves, placating people by unwittingly reflecting their own egos back at them.
Recommended for: Fans of a dry socio-political satire that highlights the superficiality of society through the unlikely advent of a sweet simpleton almost overnight. The funniest moments in Being There come from seeing how much Chance gets away with in high society, and how absurd moments of melodrama become when they are undermined by the background noise of a television set--like when Eve tries to seduce Chance while he watches "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood".
Being There is like a modern adaptation of Voltaire's satire, "Candide", criticizing a society that is so self-obsessed, that it convinces itself that Chance is the savior to their assorted problems. No one is immune to this mass neurosis, except perhaps Ben's resident physician, Dr. Robert Allenby (Richard A. Dysart). Eve describes Chance as "intense" because he avoids small talk and changes the channel in the limo to watch the incongruous cartoon, Basketball Jones. Ben is a businessman who has retained his mental acuity despite his age and failing health; he claims that he likes Chance because he is "direct" and doesn't "bandy words", yet interprets Chance's oblique statements as contemplative metaphors. Chance talks of seasons in the garden during an informal meeting between Ben and the President, who in turn repurposes his words for his own speech, and spices it up to fuel his approval rating. The press orbiting Capitol Hill finds the enigmatic Chance's anonymity too intriguing to let go, and rumors about his background sprout up like weeds in one of Chance's proverbial (or literal) gardens. The irony is that Chance never tries to deceive anyone--it's clear that he doesn't know how. Everyone else who considers themselves to be sophisticated, educated, and powerful fool themselves because they are afraid to admit that they don't understand Chance. Eve longs for physical love since her much older husband is now incapable of the act, and sees Chance--who is closer in age to her--as a successor, convincing herself that his silence is a reflection of his masculinity. Ben tells Chance that he values his "strength", and the rather one-sided conversations they have leads Ben to believe that Chance is a fellow financial wizard who shares his sense of values. Even an encounter with a Soviet ambassador (Richard Basehart) has the dignitary thinking that Chance knows obscure fables from his homeland (in Russian, no less), solely because he happens to chuckle at the right time during his story.
In the background of Chance's meandering odyssey through the world of the power elite, there are moments that depict the nation's capital as a city that has been neglected by these titans of industry--the very world Chance first steps into when he leaves his life of privilege. People of color shuffle through the dingy streets, and graffiti condemns whites for the wealth disparity; Louise adds a cynical comment to this effect after she sees Chance on a talk show one night. A gang accosts Chance on the streets; his response to this threat is to try to "change the channel" by pointing a remote control at the hoodlum. Chance isn't a racist, and this doesn't come from a place of hatred or ignorance, but from childlike naivete. This social commentary posits that there is a divide between race, education, and wealth and positions of power and social standing, and that people who are in power take things for granted and make assumptions on superficial bases. It's shocking to see how easily Chance integrates himself into the upper social and political strata without trying, and speaks to the illusion of power that exists in government; even the President becomes literally impotent when his public image is criticized. By the conclusion of Being There, Chance is being seriously considered as a future presidential candidate by the rich and powerful in Washington, solely because he is popular, without regard for any meaningful qualifications. Chance is no messiah--the ending pokes fun at this--but is emblematic of a society made simple by television, and is thus the leader that it deserves, placating people by unwittingly reflecting their own egos back at them.
Recommended for: Fans of a dry socio-political satire that highlights the superficiality of society through the unlikely advent of a sweet simpleton almost overnight. The funniest moments in Being There come from seeing how much Chance gets away with in high society, and how absurd moments of melodrama become when they are undermined by the background noise of a television set--like when Eve tries to seduce Chance while he watches "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood".