The Belly of an Architect

Dir: Peter Greenaway

1987

*****

Peter Greenaway’s lavish opus is an astonishing exploration of art and metaphor, telling the story of Etienne-Louis Boullee through the obsessions of a contemporary architect. Brian Dennehy was quoted after the release as saying "I've made lots of movies but only one film." The film begins with American architect Stourley Kracklite (Dennehy) mounting his wife Louisa (Chloe Webb) next to a window of a speeding train as it crosses the French-Italian boarder. Kracklite has been commissioned to construct an exhibition in Rome dedicated to the architecture of his idol Étienne-Louis Boullée. Doubts arise among his Italian colleagues about the legitimacy of Boullée among the pantheon of famed architects, perhaps because Boullée was an inspiration for Adolf Hitler's architect Albert Speer. Kracklite immerses himself in his work and in Rome, indulging himself wherever possible – represented most by his greed for food. Tirelessly dedicated to the project, Kracklite's marriage deteriorates, along with his health. His social and physical decline corresponds to the decline of his idol Boullée, who until the 20th century was hardly known. Kracklite becomes obsessed with the historical Caesar Augustus after hearing that Livia, his wife, supposedly poisoned him. Kracklite assumes that his own wife, Louisa, is trying to do the same because he is suffering increasing stomach pains. She informs him that she is pregnant, and is sexually involved with the younger co-organiser of the exhibition. He discovers that he has a stomach cancer and has not long to live. The film ends at opening ceremony, which Kracklite watches from a higher vantage point. Louisa gives birth to their child, and Kracklite jumps to his death. Belly of an Architect uses far more metaphor than most of Greenaway’s work and is less abstract. I like Brian Dennehy in pretty much everything he’s been in but this was the role that was made for him, the best of his career and indeed, one of the best of all time. Greenaway's visual technique heightens Kracklite's alienation. It is as grandiose as you’d expect from the cult director but for once it is far more controlled and intentional. There are few close-up shots of the other actors beside Dennehy, who himself is dwarfed by the dominance of the Roman architecture surrounding him. Greenaway's trademark historical reenactments also compose a major theme as many visual images of the film appear to replicate major 18th-century works of art and architecture. In addition there are subtle references to Isaac Newton and the law of gravity, perhaps alluding to Kracklite's own inability to escape the physical laws of mortality, as well as Boullée’s project for the Cenotaph, for Isaac Newton, which has been studied by architects for its viability for years, not least by Albert Speer who modeled the New Berlin for Hitler. The cake presented to Kracklite at the initial banquet is also perfect replica of Boullee's drawings for the Isaac Newton Cenotaph. The visuals of Rome are stunning and every frame is beautiful. The controlled movement coming in and out of every composition is seemless but so vital to the overall feel and theme. It is compelling and utterly breathtaking. Wim Mertens' musical accompaniment is also brilliant and on par with any modern minimalist composition. Film and theatre have enjoyed a long relationship with one another, as has art in general, but never before have all three been married so successfully. When one is asked to think of some of the great films of the 1980s, you can’t help but think of films such as Back to the Future, The Goonies, a John Hughes film maybe or a Steven Spielberg picture. You’d be forgiven (but only just) for forgetting or overlooking films such as Cinema Paradiso, Fitzcarraldo, Babette’s Feast and The Belly of an Architect but these are, among many, the best films of the decade by a country mile that seem unattached to the time they were made. Indeed, they are timeless masterpieces and everything element of Greenway's epic is perfect.