One of the last few films of the American “New Wave” era, director Hal Ashby’s “Being There” also includes the second-to-last screen performance of the chameleon actor Peter Sellers. Worshiped by his peers, Sellers was largely ignored by various awards groups and known to most audiences as Inspector Jacques Clouseau, the aloof, bumbling detective in the original “Pink Panther” franchise.
Containing elements of “Charly” (and later) “Rain Man,” “Forrest Gump,” and “Lars and the Real Girl,” “Being There” is a story about Chance (Sellers), a man who has reached middle age with no knowledge of the outside world beyond what he sees on television. He can’t read or write, has never consumed alcohol, never spoken on a telephone, ridden in a car, traveled in an elevator, or been with a woman. He has spent his entire life in a small cottage working as the gardener on a vast estate owned by an unnamed benefactor who dies in the movie’s opening scene.
Chance or Chauncey?
Out of fear of being sued and/or wanting to do the right thing, Eve insists that Chance return home with her to be examined by family physician Robert Allenby (Richard Dysart). Before arriving, Eve asks Chance what his name is, to which he replies “Chance the Gardener.” She mistakenly hears this as “Chauncey Gardiner” and this is how he is addressed from this point forward.Upon arriving at the sprawling Rand mansion (the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, North Carolina), Chance charms the socks off of everyone by delivering the most simple of utterances in an almost whispering monotone. Practically everything he says has some connection to gardening, which is interpreted as understated, sagely wisdom. His vagueness and unflappable air has an almost intoxicating level of unintended charm, which gob-smacks each person he meets and, in particular, Ben’s friend the President (Jack Warden).
It’s So Easy
Based on the 1970 novel by Polish novelist Jerzy Kosinski (who co-wrote the screenplay with an uncredited Robert C. Jones), it is one of the most nuanced satires ever produced. Devoid of finger-wagging, bellicose tirades, overreaching histrionics, or emotional manipulation, “Being There” is nonetheless a scathing commentary on politics and the media, pointing out how patently easy is it to fool people, often with their own willful, enthusiastic participation.
The rub here is that Chance isn’t remotely trying to be mysterious, devious, manipulative, untrustworthy, or dishonest; he is thoroughly incapable of lying or misdirection. He is always in the company of those who, more or less, to one degree or another, are practitioners of spin, misinformation, and self-deceit.
Less Is Always More
Cliff Robertson won an Oscar for “Charly,” as did Dustin Hoffman for “Rain Man,” and Tom Hanks for “Forrest Gump,” all while playing mentally challenged men. It is never made clear and only mildly insinuated that Chance has some type of diminished capacity. He likely has some form of autism or OCD, yet Sellers doesn’t resort to the level of heightened affectation displayed by the above-mentioned actors. He never goes broad or leans into the performance; it’s all low-key and played close to the vest, and it’s perhaps his greatest career achievement.
Sellers did indeed receive an Oscar nomination for “Being There” but lost to Hoffman for the latter’s arguably easier, less-impressive performance in “Kramer vs. Kramer.” Sellers (and most critics) cited the inclusion of what has since become known as a “blooper” during the closing credits for his loss. In it, Sellers is attempting to do a hospital scene (which took place halfway through and was eventually cut) where he laughs at his own continuing line flubs. Had this been included as supplemental material on a home video release, it would be understandable, but to place it in the final theatrical cut was a catastrophic misstep on Ashby’s part. It’s dumbfounding as to why the producers didn’t excise it prior to release.
This unforced error robs “Being There” from achieving perfection and detracts from the overall sly, effortless, genuine tenor of the film. It’s the sole major flaw in an otherwise brilliant motion picture.
