Under the VolcanoThe devil that lurks in the drink whispers promises of escape. But this exodus from reality is to commit oneself to the abyss of oblivion, consigned to shadows cast by igneous hellfire. That is the path sought and found by former British consul to Mexico, Geoffrey Firmin (Albert Finney), in John Huston's Under the Volcano, an adaptation of Malcolm Lowry's novel of the same name. Set on (and following) the Mexican "Day of the Dead" circa 1938, on the eve of World War II, Geoffrey's life might have fizzled out alone, save for the return of his estranged wife, Yvonne (Jacqueline Bisset), who returns to desperately attempt to salvage their ruined marriage.
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Under the Volcano bears the trademarks of legendary filmmaker, John Huston, recalling his most memorable works in style and setting, notably The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, including more than a few similarities at the conclusion. Geoffrey Firmin is far from the paranoid wretch which Fred C. Dobbs was, but he is still a stranger in a strange land. Like Dobbs, Firmin is set adrift in Mexico, without direction, without ambition--in Firmin's case, this is the result of his presumed abandonment by Yvonne. He has resigned his position, and is content to drink himself to death. His friend, Doctor Vigil (Ignacio López Tarso), convinces him to pray to the Virgin Mary for Yvonne's return--to save himself from himself--and as if by a miracle, she walks in through the swinging doors of the cantina the morning after the festivities like a beacon of light. But Geoffrey is apprehensive to commit to the reunion, contrary to her assertions that she wants to try again, to bring him back from the brink, something seen by all except Geoffrey...or perhaps most of all by Geoffrey. His half-brother, Hugh (Anthony Andrews), a sometimes journalist and former supporter of the Republican forces from the Spanish Civil War, stays with Geoffrey, impotent to stop his cycle of self-destruction, but is warmed by Yvonne's return. The trio masks their collective unrest by seeking enjoyment in the city of Cuernavaca, and a fiesta which, at Geoffrey's insistence, will take their mind off of anything possessing any gravity. But as they wander through the city, under the shadow of the mated volcanoes--Popocatepetl and Iztaccihuatl--Geoffrey's defense against his suffering slips way and reveals his desperation, his terror at the prospect of both a world seeking oblivion on the precipice of global war and his own disillusionment with heroism and humanity, life and love.
From the start of Under the Volcano, Geoffrey strides through the graves of the dead, a shadow in his formal tuxedo en route to a gala event, one which ultimately hosts ambassadors from across the world, including a slimy agent of Nazi Germany, whom Geoffrey confronts regarding rumors about the infiltration of the Nazis into Mexico by organizing a secret cadre of thugs and assassins. This ubiquitous fascism is repeated when one such member observed by Geoffrey is seen on the bus with Yvonne and Hugh, another greasy thug who is all too quick to pocket the bloodied currency left behind on the corpse of a slain native, his horse seized by the criminals. The agent from the event tells Geoffrey that it was the British prime minister who participated in a peace treaty with Nazi Germany, and he claims to hope for a long-standing alliance, one which history has proven otherwise. (This is true; look up the "Munich Agreement" to see the perils inherent in the pursuit of "peace for our time".) Geoffrey talks of his heroism from his days aboard a submarine, merits which earned him a medal, a story he tells which gets a little more grandiose with each iteration. All the same, he longs for the days when his contributions mattered; his loss of Yvonne suggests that they were not enough in his eyes. He is wracked with a combination of guilt and pangs of suffering, evidenced by their interactions--and an off-color comment made by Geoffrey at a moment of revelation--that Hugh and Yvonne had an affair, and that this stain has forever colored the possibility of a civil reunion. It is as though Geoffrey has been pursuing death, plunging his feet deep into the soil of his own grave, debasing himself by drink and consorting with disreputable elements like those at the bar where his letters from Yvonne have been secreted away. Geoffrey is too proud to allow his feelings to pour forth like the tequila he imbibes. In one telling scene, he is discovered lying face down in the street by a fellow Englishman. The two converse, but they speak with a kind of small talk, manners masking the reality of Geoffrey's state of health--that he was drunk enough to pass out in the road. It is not as though the stranger from Cambridge is not concerned--quite the contrary--but Geoffrey is canny enough to exploit his cultural mannerisms to shield himself from prying eyes, just as he guards himself via his black sunglasses. Under the surface of Under the Volcano are the trappings of masculine anxiety and fear of appearing weak. Geoffrey hides his feelings behind the bottle, and even Hugh surreptitiously leaps into the ring to fight a bull at one point, affronted by his own perception of cowardice having left Spain at the height of the fighting. Yvonne quite literally begs her husband to entertain the idea that they could be happy again together, imploring Geoffrey to leave Mexico and start afresh. But Geoffrey's pride is as much an affliction as his alcoholism, and will forever bar her passage to his heart. During the fiesta, Geoffrey hops on a carnival ride, what he calls the "infernal machine", and is spun upside-down and flung around. It is a metaphor for his life, all turned around, his feet no longer planted on the earth. It is what Geoffrey has been seeking--a sense of profound numbness and disorientation; for who can feel sorrow at being in Hell, when one cannot differentiate between it and Heaven, between up from down?
Recommended for: Fans of a tragic tale of addiction and emotional pathos, also a tale set just prior to World War II, and with historical context. Albert Finney's exceptional performance shines as the man who has committed himself to self-destruction and drinks to silence his fears and anxieties.
From the start of Under the Volcano, Geoffrey strides through the graves of the dead, a shadow in his formal tuxedo en route to a gala event, one which ultimately hosts ambassadors from across the world, including a slimy agent of Nazi Germany, whom Geoffrey confronts regarding rumors about the infiltration of the Nazis into Mexico by organizing a secret cadre of thugs and assassins. This ubiquitous fascism is repeated when one such member observed by Geoffrey is seen on the bus with Yvonne and Hugh, another greasy thug who is all too quick to pocket the bloodied currency left behind on the corpse of a slain native, his horse seized by the criminals. The agent from the event tells Geoffrey that it was the British prime minister who participated in a peace treaty with Nazi Germany, and he claims to hope for a long-standing alliance, one which history has proven otherwise. (This is true; look up the "Munich Agreement" to see the perils inherent in the pursuit of "peace for our time".) Geoffrey talks of his heroism from his days aboard a submarine, merits which earned him a medal, a story he tells which gets a little more grandiose with each iteration. All the same, he longs for the days when his contributions mattered; his loss of Yvonne suggests that they were not enough in his eyes. He is wracked with a combination of guilt and pangs of suffering, evidenced by their interactions--and an off-color comment made by Geoffrey at a moment of revelation--that Hugh and Yvonne had an affair, and that this stain has forever colored the possibility of a civil reunion. It is as though Geoffrey has been pursuing death, plunging his feet deep into the soil of his own grave, debasing himself by drink and consorting with disreputable elements like those at the bar where his letters from Yvonne have been secreted away. Geoffrey is too proud to allow his feelings to pour forth like the tequila he imbibes. In one telling scene, he is discovered lying face down in the street by a fellow Englishman. The two converse, but they speak with a kind of small talk, manners masking the reality of Geoffrey's state of health--that he was drunk enough to pass out in the road. It is not as though the stranger from Cambridge is not concerned--quite the contrary--but Geoffrey is canny enough to exploit his cultural mannerisms to shield himself from prying eyes, just as he guards himself via his black sunglasses. Under the surface of Under the Volcano are the trappings of masculine anxiety and fear of appearing weak. Geoffrey hides his feelings behind the bottle, and even Hugh surreptitiously leaps into the ring to fight a bull at one point, affronted by his own perception of cowardice having left Spain at the height of the fighting. Yvonne quite literally begs her husband to entertain the idea that they could be happy again together, imploring Geoffrey to leave Mexico and start afresh. But Geoffrey's pride is as much an affliction as his alcoholism, and will forever bar her passage to his heart. During the fiesta, Geoffrey hops on a carnival ride, what he calls the "infernal machine", and is spun upside-down and flung around. It is a metaphor for his life, all turned around, his feet no longer planted on the earth. It is what Geoffrey has been seeking--a sense of profound numbness and disorientation; for who can feel sorrow at being in Hell, when one cannot differentiate between it and Heaven, between up from down?
Recommended for: Fans of a tragic tale of addiction and emotional pathos, also a tale set just prior to World War II, and with historical context. Albert Finney's exceptional performance shines as the man who has committed himself to self-destruction and drinks to silence his fears and anxieties.