In 1965, Indonesian strong man Sukarno’s iron-fisted rule was threatened by a Communist insurrection. Against this political backdrop, director Peter Weir tells two stories, with varying degrees of success. In The Year of Living Dangerously, some of the best scenes take us into the reporter scrums in local bars, where the journalists’ banter betrays their apathy and resignation (Mike Murphy excels as a flaccid and self-involved Ugly American journalist). Using the local art of shadow puppet theatre as a metaphor, Weir presents the compelling shadow-and-light relationship of Guy (Mel Gibson) and Billy (Linda Hunt), which forms the heart of this film. Representing forces of light and dark, left and right, good and evil, ambition and ethics, loyalty and betrayal in constant struggle on both a global and personal scale, the puppets accurately reflect the two journalist’s relationship as well. Billy becomes Guy’s puppet master (Billy’s “I created you” parallels the character Christof in The Truman Show) when he “gives” Guy the beautiful Jill Bryant (Sigourney Weaver). Billy also offers to be Guy’s eyes, and these windows to the soul become Guy’s conscience
Billy’s character, rendered complete by Hunt’s brilliantly nuanced performance, is the film’s most intriguing and complex character. He rejects the journalist’s guise of objectivity, and rather than get paralysed by the enormity of the Big Issues, he deals with issues right in front of him, pouring money into the pockets of the impoverished locals.
Guy hasn’t the character to operate effectively in this moral context. Consequently, Billy’s feelings of betrayal are far greater than his lover’s (Jill never treats the relationship as much more than a lark). Only after Billy makes the ultimate gesture of sacrifice to the cause of Indonesian suffering, which for him is a personal issue, and Guy is both literally and metaphorically robbed of his vision, is he able to face the self-delusion of his “objectivity” and recognize that his words and deeds are part of this world, and have tangible and devastating effect upon it.
Some scenes are not well executed — a Communist demonstration that degenerates into a riot is too orderly and clearly choreographed, without an ounce of spontaneity. Consequently, neither Billy nor Guy appear to be in danger, robbing the scene of its vitality. Likewise, the entire romantic subplot is unnecessary and unsuccessful. While Weaver and Gibson look gorgeous together, Jill Bryant is a sketchily and foggily motivated character that should have been left on the cutting room floor. Bogie and Bergman they are not.
In a more conventional film, Guy would be a hero — doing what is right (filing a controversial story) in the face of almost certain death. However, Weir is more interested in studying the darker side of such terrier-like tenacity, so Guy’s decision to file the story is less about heroism and ethics, and more about egoism and ambition. The Year of Living Dangerously is a flawed film, but it is richly textured and imbued with enough emotional and intellectual subtlety to make it a rewarding experience.
