The Cock and Bull Story

Last night, I had the pleasure of going to a preview of "Tristram Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story," courtesy of KCRW. I thought it was a delightful romp of a film. The premise is that we see Steve Coogan during a couple days of the shoot of "Tristram Shandy," a movie that all proclaim cannot be made because the book is so fraught with strangeness and such wealth of material. (Apparently, the first scene of the book, The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, is Tristram-as-homunculus traveling between his father and mother!) So, instead, this film shows the cogs of filming an impossible movie, bits of the movie itself, and focuses on "Steve Coogan's" life while on set. It has, obviously, the same flavor as "Adaptation," particularly the scene when Charlie Kaufman is on the set of "Being John Malkovich." But, as zany as it is, I would say "Tristram" was a little bit more tucked in than its predecessor, a little less insane (which I think serves it well), and very funny. It features wicked humor and a nice, palatable voyeuristic quality that is delightful to watch. But something, I thought, was missing.

The film is chock-full of exacting moments, ones that I fear giving away because they're too delectable to have spoiled. The first scene will hook you with its wit, and, as far as the other parts, I'll say this: watch for insane 'introductory' battle, young Tristram, babies, wombs, references to Fassbinder, Steve Coogan and his agents, and stay for the bookend Coogan-Rob Brydon exchange during the credits. This is a very smart movie that tickles in most of the right places. But what I found interesting was that it puts Steve Coogan in a similar position to Charlie Kaufman of "Adaptation," but here we have a star with a bit of a star complex, but still personable. While I truly adore Steve Coogan, I didn't root for him in the way I rooted for Charlie Kaufman. Maybe it's because I've only recently been introduced to "Knowing Me, Knowing You with Alan Partridge," but I think it's something else. Because Coogan's not as pathetic a figure, my emotions weren't as caught up with seeing him succeed or prevail. There is emotion -- I repeat, babies -- but Coogan just doesn't warrant as much sympathy from me as a sweaty, balding guy who has problems with his family and with getting girls.

It's only right that I should emphasize again that I haven't read the novel, so I think part of the insanity of the film is lost on me. But the general conception of everyday life getting in the way of telling a story rings true here. And my interest in watching the film was perpetuated by this sense of the everyday: I loved seeing the castle they were filming in, the costume racks, and the sometimes strained relationships between the people who worked on the film. This, I believe, is the major point.

On a small critical note, I kept looking for Michael Winterbottom, but was a little disappointed when it held itself apart from being super-meta by employing Jeremy Northam to play "Mark" the director of this fake "Tristram Shandy" film instead of Winterbottom playing himself. I think that would have added an interesting and more consistent touch. But I almost feel criminal saying such things without having read "Tristram Shandy" the novel. And, added to this, I'll admit to expecting almost divine things of Winterbottom, as the film is already impressive for its seamlessness and its ability to shuttle its audience off from the making of the film to the film itself so effortlessly.

For all my nitpickiness, the film is a pleasurable experience. It's not only a period piece -- poorly, hilariously made -- but an interesting look into what film-making is. And it's doubly refreshing because it makes movie-making into a tiresome business. For all its triumphs and its minor flaws, I heartily recommend it. And it's done what few adaptations can do: it's compelled me to read the book.