ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Saturday, May 11, 1996 TAG: 9605130048
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: B10 EDITION: METRO
TYPE: MOVIE REVIEW
SOURCE: KATHERINE REED STAFF WRITER
Before John Kennedy Toole wrote his famous "A Confederacy of Dunces," he wrote a novel called "The Neon Bible." But his mother - who brought "A Confederacy" to the attention of the world - insisted that the first book not be published until after her death in 1984.
Those who've read "A Confederacy of Dunces" may be a little surprised by Terence Davies' film adaptation of "The Neon Bible" - certainly by its Southern gothic tone, but even more so by its absolute lack of humor. Its viewpoint, that of a young boy - then a young man - growing up in the Deep South surrounded by evangelical Christians, crazy women and almost somnambulistic townspeople, bears much more in common with the stories of Flannery O'Connor. It's as if from the very start, we are being invited to look at the shattered remains of all humankind, even the young David who should be just beginning to grow toward something more than the starry sky.
But Davies has shined a piercing, sometimes beautiful light on the pieces and built from them one of the most powerful and disturbing coming-of-age movies anyone has made in a long, long time.
The movie begins in smoke that conceals the movement of a train, on which the grown-up David is riding toward a destination that is a mystery even to him. The story then flashes back to his earliest memories of being visited by relatives at Christmas then welcoming his Aunt May (Gena Rowlands) into the rickety backwoods cabin David shares with his emotionally unstable mother Sarah (the awesome Diana Scarwid) and brutal father Frank (Denis Leary).
Aunt May has been forced to end her singing career, but still carries with her some of the glamour and romance of the stage. Young David gravitates toward her, hungry for some promise of a world beyond the suffocating small town and his oppressive family.
When Frank goes off to serve in World War II, a little joy seeps into the lives of Sarah, May and David (Jacob Tierney) - and it's captured most completely in a scene in which the war wives dance with each other at some kind of social gathering downtown. (It's really refreshing to see a dance scene in a movie in which people kind of muddle through - without the slightest whiff of choreography for miles and miles.)
But it isn't long before the fragile peace is shattered.
With the enormous help of a gifted cinematographer (Michael Coulter), Davies offers a combination of striking images and extraordinarily long scenes to create a sense of memory and fully lived experience. Not all of the images work - notably, a series that includes a sheet, a flag and a handkerchief. But then there are the doorways, quiet movement along hallways toward light and, most disturbing of all, the darkened entrance to a revival tent to direct us toward David's struggle to find his way.
The movie looks like an Edward Hopper painting, but packs the wallop of a Tennessee Williams play. There is certainly a hint of Blanche DuBois in Aunt May, but more to the point, there is the juxtaposition of male brutality and feminine fragility.
This is the kind of movie too few people will see, and that's too bad, because "The Neon Bible" is a rarity, these days - an original work that can claim style and substance. THE NEON BIBLE ***1/2
A Film Four International-Miramax release showing at the Grandin Theatre, 90 minutes. Not rated, but it is not suitable for people under 13.
LENGTH: Medium: 67 lines ILLUSTRATION: PHOTO: Gene Rowlands (center) is Aunt May in Terence Daviesby CNB"The Neon Bible." color