It's too late. Too late, that is, to overturn conclusively the long-held belief that no variation on the Jekyll-and-Hyde theme, no matter how twisted and remote (Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde, The Nutty Professor, even Dr. Heckyl and Mr. Hype), could ever fail entirely to resonate. Jekyll and Hyde ... Together Again and, more recently, Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Hyde had already accomplished the toppling. Re-telling the original tale now from the point of view of a snoopy drone, hitherto unknown, on the doctor's household staff only serves to retard and obscure the telling. (The two principals, Julia Roberts and John "Mouth-Breather" Malkovich, flit about the British Isles in search of a suitable accent, alighting here and there, she with stronger nesting instincts than he.) The whole movie -- from the mossy monochrome of Philippe Rousselot's cinematography to the murmurous hum of George Fenton's music -- seems infected somehow by the dipped chin, the downcast eyes, the sidelong glance of the heroine. It's all so anesthetically dulled. And it's too late, too, to suggest that what ailed Jekyll was nothing that the passing of the Victorian era wouldn't have cured. If the tale is not as universal and elastic as had earlier been supposed, why re-tell it at all? With Michael Gambon and Glenn Close; written by Christopher Hampton; directed by Stephen Frears. (1996) — Duncan Shepherd
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