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The Truman Show (1998)

A review by Damian Cannon.
Copyright © Movie Reviews UK 2000
Isn't it curious how readily we jump to scorn and assault television, that supposed mirror of our lives, when in all other ways its flickering glow receives worship? In the few decades that have elapsed since its birth, TV broadcasting flavours have matured astonishingly. Reacting to our whims, and pandering to our desires, producers give us what we want. Yet who isn't happy, perhaps even eager, to rail against the decay of televisual values, to smugly point out its lowest common-denominator targets, the deleterious effect that it has had on civilisation. So deeply has television infiltrated into our lives that it's become a confidant, a lover and a friend; so close to our heart that we feel free to provoke, knowing there'll be no rejection. Riding such a zeitgeist, The Truman Show is a sure hit.

What consistently amazes about television shows is just how far they'll go to attract viewers; birth, death, war and love are all grist for the mill. Writer Andrew Niccol takes this theme to its logical conclusion, asking what it might be like to create a programme where the star is a real, living and breathing human being. His answer is The Truman Show. A completely artificial world, down to its last nut and bolt, has been built to contain the life of one man, Truman Burbank (Jim Carrey). Billions around the globe follow his existence more avidly than their own, inexhaustibly sucking from OmniCom's 24-hour teat. Given the attention span of today's viewer, how likely is it that the masses would willingly watch something as tedious and repetitive as Truman's daily grind, having been spoon-fed a diet of all-action, high-drama elsewhere? The idea that these very same viewers would stick with the same show for thirty long years seems incredible, yet they do.

On the foundation of this heady conceit, "supreme being" Christof (Ed Harris) manages an empire of technicians, actors and product placement. Especially cunning are the methods by which director Peter Weir introduces us to this phoney world, a slow-burning approach that masks real power. Through the imaginative photography of Peter Biziou we get to see the unknowing Truman's world as if a fee-paying spectator; cameras hidden in buttons and dashboards capture his distorted, clipped actions. Yet at the very same time we can step back and gaze at the audience, taking every advantage of our privileged position. Weir's handling of this beginning is excellent, an incremental process of perspective shifting and paradigm realignment. In short order we can understand both Truman's predicament and confusion.

The problem is that while Truman becomes suspicious and paranoid, The Truman Show remains gentle and reserved in its satire. The script could easily have been more incisive, biting and generally aggressive; instead it feels like an opportunity squandered. What Weir gives us is a succession of small shocks, all partitioned by poor development and the sense that no one has thought too deeply about concept. So when you realise that the words of comfort spoken by Marlon (Noah Emmerich) are in fact prompted by Christof, it comes as an unpleasant reminder. It's easy to not be so much taken in as lulled by the spectacle, then the film forgets itself. For instance, free will is the whole basis of the show, that Truman can act randomly and unpredictably; yet all around him people go through their motions like clockwork, repeating over and over. It just wouldn't work, you'd have to let the cast evolve, working around Truman rather than trying to force him down a pre-defined path.

Carrey is notably excellent, proving that he can act when he wants to. Truman's struggle intentionally represents that of the everyman, which may explain his unknowing popularity. We all share in the quest for answers. This may be Carrey's best performance yet, despite his lack of dramatic pace and range. However, while this is Carrey's show, literally, even he needs a foil, another element The Truman Show lacks. The supporting roles are weak and under-utilised, present for texture but barely explored in their own right. Laura Linney does better than most as Truman's fictional wife Meryl, especially in her manic, almost rabid, sponsor selling, while Emmerich is solid, if limited. Carrey's only real competition is Harris, impressive as the arrogant and avuncular Christof. His absolute moral certainty stuns.

Let's not go ape-mad though; The Truman Show only looks brilliant in comparison with the year's other offerings, a sickly crop. Like the show, Weir's movie is hollow and superficial, pretending to be something more than it is. Dennis Gassner's design might look fantastic and unsettling, far too perfect and clean for comfort, but the story itseelf settles for consumerism's easy targets. It forces us to believe and accept without background, it fails to follow up on the love interest that is Sylvia (Natascha McElhone) and it never explains how even the most trusting individual can be so oblivious. The fact that these flaws fail to dominate can be put down to the philosophical questions which Niccol's script generates, Carrey's ability to facilitate our access to these very thoughts and the high standard of filmmaking. In the end one's remembrance of The Truman Show wins over its reality.

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