I have a friend who is terrified of Rowan Atkinson’s Mr.
Bean character (too spastic, he says), so the smash success of 1997’s big screen adaptation Bean ($45 million Stateside, but $205 million more worldwide) left him understandably
feeling frightened and vulnerable. After all, if there were that many Bean fans
out there, what kind of zany, mixed-up world were we living in? It’s hard to
believe it took a decade to follow up a $250 million hit, but it finally
arrives in the form of Mr. Bean’s Holiday,
a farcical, family-friendly road trip comedy (and $224 million worldwide hit) which returns Atkinson to the
iconic role that made him an international star and an in-demand bit comic
player in movies like Four Weddings and a Funeral
and Rat Race.
In his latest misadventure, English misfit Mr. Bean goes on
holiday to the French Riviera and becomes ensnared in a European adventure of
cinematic proportions. Tired of the dreary weather of his hometown
Bean packs up his suitcase, camcorder and sensible clothes, and heads to
for some sun and relaxation. His vacation doesn’t go as smoothly as planned,
however, and the bumbling Bean soon tumbles face first into a series of mishaps
and fortunate coincidences which culminate in him making his own avant-garde
film. Wrongly thought to be both a kidnapper and acclaimed filmmaker, Bean has
some serious explaining to do after wreaking havoc across the French
countryside and arriving at his vacation spot with both a Romanian filmmaker’s
precocious son and an aspiring actress in tow. So will Bean be arrested by the
gendarmes or end up following in the footsteps of David Lynch
and other famous filmmakers, and winning the Palme d’Or?
Mr. Bean’s Holiday
won’t necessarily win any awards, certainly for narrative structural trailblazing,
but it has the definite advantage of knowing its place and being comfortable in
its own skin. The movie’s slapstick comedy often unfolds in near-wordless
fashion, playing up the sort of Three Stooges-type universality that renders this disc’s French subtitles unnecessary, and
makes the title an affable rental that both family film lovers and old silent
film buffs shopping for a modern-day comparative experience can both enjoy. Atkinson
is the glue that holds the entire enterprise together, and even if his exaggerated,
rubbery faces seem nipped from the Jim Carrey
school of (over)acting, they’re actually all part of a smartly designed and tonally
singular plan.
Housed in a regular plastic Amray case, Mr. Bean’s Holiday is presented in 1.85:1 anamorphic widescreen,
with English and French Dolby digital 5.1 audio tracks. A heaping helping of
deleted scenes — over 23 minutes worth — kicks off the disc, and finds Bean
accidentally feeding his necktie into a vending machine and missing his train,
filming himself doing silly moves on the road, and testing out various cell
phone ring tones, among other bits. In the making-of featurette “French Beans,”
running 11-plus minutes, the movie’s makers — including director Steve Bendelack,
producer Tim Bevan and credited story writer Simon McBurney talk up the
production’s location shoot in some of the most beautiful parts of France, from
the Champs d’Elysee in Paris to the southern town of Provence. “Beans In Cannes,”
running five minutes, continues this theme, and details the Cannes Film
Festival’s cooperation with the movie. Bit part costar Willem Dafoe also has
some great things to say about Atkinson, both here and in another six-minute
featurette on the star; he, Bevan, McBurney and others point out all the work
that goes into making such highly considered action feel spontaneous. Atkinson
himself, meanwhile, talks about the challenges of keeping his skin as pasty
white as possible in the French summer sun; after 90 minutes of pratfalls and
silent film-type performance, it’s a bit of a shock to hear a voice spring
forth from him, but his erudite insights on the character and performance in
general are in the end certainly no less welcome. B (Movie) B+ (Disc)