Spotlight

Spotlight Date: 29-May-11
Spoiler Rating: Low

The Night of the Iguana (1964)

When I think of Tennessee Williams I don't immediately think of stories as beautiful or uplifting as The Night of the Iguana. Yet among the movies adapted from his work this is the one I like best. Directed by John Huston, the movie exhibits Williams' trademark themes of despair and taboo sexuality, but its primary subjects are where a man goes after hitting rock bottom and how significant encounters help him get there. It's an emotional, intellectual, and spiritual thrill performed by a stellar cast in a wonderful location.

The story centers around the reverend T. Lawrence Shannon (Richard Burton), who has come to Mexico as a tour guide for Christian ladies. Already miserable because of a fall from grace, Shannon is tormented by the ladies' mean-spirited leader (Grayson Hall) and the teenager in the party who is desperately trying to bed him (Sue Lyon). When the nymphet's attentions land him in hot water, he hijacks the whole busload to a hilltop hotel outside Acapulco that is run by an old friend. The friend, it turns out, is dead, so Shannon and his reluctant guests are welcomed by the bold and sensual widow Maxine (Ava Gardner). Maxine finds Shannon's predicament amusing (as does Burton, who brings out the humor of cracking up). But while Shannon appreciates her hospitality, he rejects her offers of comfort because sexual desires (his and other people's) always spell trouble. What he needs most at the moment is a spiritual compass. And one comes to him in a remarkable form.

The Night of the Iguana is the rare movie in which symbolism and metaphor form the ideal expression of ideas. The iguana of the title stands for Shannon himself, an unhappily fettered creature who needs escape. But the primary instance of symbolism is Hannah Jelkes, another unexpected arrival on the hilltop who is played to perfection by Deborah Kerr. Although Shannon addresses her at one point as "Miss Thin, Standing-up, Female Buddha," the religious figure Hannah most resembles is Christ. She enters the scene supporting a 97-year-old man as if carrying the weight of human frailty on her shoulders. As Christ figures go, she is exactly the kind to whom the fallen reverend would best respond, i.e., a beautiful woman who exudes the strength and purity he has sought in vain. A virgin spinster, Hannah travels the world with her grandfather trading their artistic talents for food and shelter. When Shannon urges Maxine to let her stay without cash, Maxine agrees despite bristling at the competition.

During a few meetings, including one when the reverend is tied up after a suicide attempt, Hannah and Shannon discuss and analyze their lives. Far from being free of care, she argues for hanging on, for finding some way to survive one's periods of desperation. Above all, she advocates compassion, a force of which she herself is a glowing example. She is not disgusted by Shannon's pathetic state, nor does she tsk when Maxine descends to the beach with two cabana boys whose muscular torsos have never seen the inside of a shirt. Speaking as a fellow sufferer instead of a critical observer (or confused conscience), she suggests to Shannon that his sex drive isn't essentially evil and that if one door has closed to him, another may yet lie open. By the time Hannah heads back down the hill, lighter but still seemingly encumbered, Shannon has embarked on a new phase of life. And, this being a tale marked by happy endings as well as symbolic meanings, the iguana has also been set free.

Copyright © 2011 The Jujube (M. I. Kim). All rights reserved.