Maurice

"What an ending!" Maurice (James Wilby) sobs when Clive (Hugh Grant), the object of his affection, having abruptly decided to "go straight," forcefully rejects him in the Merchant Ivory film "Maurice."

What an ending indeed. The film is adapted from E.M. Forster's novel of same-sex attraction and gay romance, a work written in an age of intense, institutionalized homophobia. Forster first completed the novel in draft form in 1914, then subsequently revised the manuscript over the course of nearly fifty years, but the novel went unpublished until 1971, a year after Forster's death. The author himself thought publication inadvisable; he was probably correct in this, sadly, because it used to be the case that a novel about gay lovers could not, under law, have a happy ending.

But that -- with astonishing bravery, tenderness, and optimism -- is exactly what Forster wrote. He sent his slightly dim, middle-class hero, Maurice Hall, into the sunset hand in hand with a classier (though working-class) life partner, the passionate, unapologetic Alec Scudder. (Forster wrote, then excised, an epilogue to the novel in which, some years later, it turns out to be the case that Maurice and Alec have become woodcutters -- the eventual destiny of the two lovers being, evidently, a retreat from the "civilized" world at large and into the forest primeval.)

From a literary standpoint alone, "Maurice" is hardly Forster's best beloved novel; even director James Ivory, who helmed the 1987 film version, suggests that the novel's characters are "flat" and key passages unconvincing. But as a rare ray of hope and affirmation for gay readers -- and, with the film version's success, gay moviegoers -- "Maurice" is nothing short of groundbreaking. As a film, it's imbued with impeccable good taste and cinematic elegance; it was a moment of grace during the height of the AIDS pandemic, and its bracing, whip-smart humor was a tonic.

Moreover, "Maurice" was a beacon of hope that shone out over a filmic landscape littered with the likes of "Cruising" and "The Boys in the Band," at a time when a comparably honest and compassionate look at gay life -- the equally groundbreaking "Longtime Companion" -- was still two years in the future. (Even so, "Longtime Companion" was wrapped in loss and melancholy.) The other movie one might most readily think of when contemplating gay cinema of the time is 1984's "Another Country," adapted by Julian Mitchell from his own play -- but that's a film touched with a taint of political cold war treachery.

Not that "Maurice" doesn't have plenty of angst and anguish. The plot is all too familiar to anyone over, say, 35 (and still too familiar to many young people today). The title character (Wilby) struggles with sexual feelings for his handsome friend Clive (Grant) and worries about not having an similar feelings for anyone of the female persuasion. He seeks a medical diagnosis from a physician with little but scorn to offer; he attempts a psychological "cure," only to be told by an American hypnotist (Ben Kinglsey) that it's not going to happen. Maurice suspects as much, anyway; while undergoing hypnosis, he imagines himself drifting in a boat, hand in hand with a marriageable young woman. He's spent plenty of happy afternoons in such boats with Clive, but this is something different: The vision is joyless, and the boat is more like a coffin than a means of progress through life. That image alone nails what it feels like to buy into the message that you "should be" straight when, in fact and forever to come, you are not.

Risky as it might be in the Edwardian era for Maurice and the upper-class Clive to pursue a homosexual passion (a point the film underscores with a subplot about a nobleman who is arrested for homosexuality, sparking a trial and a scandal), relations between Maurice and Alec are even more fraught. (Sex between men is one thing, but sex that crosses class boundaries? That really is the limit.) How will the two manage, ether separately or together, to be happy?

As the middle section of Merchant Ivory Productions' Forster "triptych," which began with 1985's adaptation of "A Room with A View" and concluded in 1992 with "Howard's End," "Maurice" stands up. It's every bit the masterpiece that those other Forster adaptations are, though its tone and subject matter differ somewhat. Even now, watching Wilby, Grant, and the stunning Rupert Graves (who plays Scudder), the film feels fresh and intrinsically personal. (The fact that director Ivory and producer Ismail Merchant were life partners no doubt factors into and informs this sensibility.)

The film's 4K restoration is gorgeous, though it also brings a slight muddiness to the fore in many scenes. (That's not an issue when the action shifts briefly to Greece, where the image is crystal clear and the light brighter.) This slight murk seems a deliberate choice on the part of cinematographer Pierre Lhomme -- he and Ivory had agreed to make a visually "cooler" movie with a darker, bluer palette -- though it might also have to do with the film stocks of the period. Overall, the film is lovely to look at, with the darker tones and lighting creating an emotionally charged atmosphere.

This Blu-ray reissue ports over a couple of extras from the 2004 Criterion Collection release, "The Story of Maurice" (a Making Of featurette) and "Conversation with the Filmmakers," consisting of interviews with James Ivory, Ismail Merchant, and composer Richard Robbins. There are also contemporary interviews and discussions with Ivory in three other extras: "James Ivory & Pierre Lhomme on the Making of Maurice," an onstage Q&A with Ivory and Lhomme, and "Director's Perspective: A Conversation Between James Ivory and Tom McCarthy," the latter being the director of the 2015 movie "Spotlight," about how investigative journalists at the Boston Globe broke the story of the global pedophile priest scandal. (Which, when you think about it, seems an odd choice: Why pair these two filmmakers, specifically?)

Fascinating tidbits about the production emerge in these chats and Q&As, from Ivory's contention that the film's timing helped mute anti-gay critics to an odd tale -- repeated a couple of times -- about how the camera crew stomped off the set at an inapt moment. Deleted and alternate scenes are also included, along with the original tailer and a new trailer for the 2017 theatrical re-release.

A booklet included with the two-disc set includes a lengthy interview with Wilby (who tells a story offered in one of the videos about how he and Grant made several attempts over dinner to discuss how to play a kissing scene, only to agree at last just to "go for it"), as well as a brief essay on the film by John Pym.

If you have a collection of serious LGBT cinema, or a cineaste's collection of any kind, this Blu-ray is indispensable.

"Maurice"
Blu-ray
$30.99
http://cohenmedia.net/films/maurice