Living up to its title, Bill Forsyth’s “Comfort and Joy” was a welcome, gladdening new Christmas classic when it arrived in 1984. It appears to be aging gracefully a generation later, although Universal has been negligent about confirming this humorous-inspirational durability by adding a DVD edition to the American market.
Evidently, one has been in circulation in the United Kingdom for a number of years. Perhaps the 25th anniversary would be an appropriate time to let American admirers update aging VHS copies.
Now 62 and reportedly contemplating a belated return to feature filmmaking, Mr. Forsyth is a native of Glasgow, Scotland, the location of his first two pictures, “That Sinking Feeling” and “Gregory’s Girl,” and then his fourth, “Comfort and Joy.”
The homecoming wasn’t quite as triumphant as it might have been, because of the enchanting shadow cast by the third Forsyth comedy, “Local Hero.” The enduring masterpiece and international favorite of his career, it had contrived to link an American metropolis, Houston, with a remote Scottish seacoast village, Pennan, fictionalized as Furness.
The resulting contrasts and affinities proved so amusing and poignant that “Local Hero” became one of the most-beloved comedies of the decade. It was the inspiration for numerous pilgrimages to the original locale. Countless snapshots probably authenticated the trip by posing visitors at the most conspicuous symbol of Pennan’s access to the outside world, a phone booth near the village pub.
Released a year after “Local Hero,” “Comfort and Joy” suffered to some extent from overfond comparisons. Its deftness and goodwill put most of the year’s comedies in the shade, but compared to the previous happy inspiration from Bill Forsyth himself, perhaps it was destined to be regarded as a second-best enhancement to moviegoing life and sentimental esteem. In retrospect, that runner-up status doesn’t seem remotely undesirable. It would be like resenting Preston Sturges’ “Christmas in July” because it hadn’t somehow evolved into “The Lady Eve.”
The most disarming cinematic and English-speaking humorist to emerge during the 1980s, Mr. Forsyth remained a gratifying source of comic observation in “Comfort and Joy,” which opens among Christmas shoppers at a Glasgow department store. The initial camera subjects are children watching a display window that depicts confections being prepared in Santa’s kitchen, a clue to certain aspects of the plot. Our first impression of the protagonist, Bill Paterson as a character named Alan Bird, is deliberately misleading: He appears to be a floorwalker stalking a shameless, dishy shoplifter.
In fact, the thief proves to be his fetching but felonious girlfriend, Maddy, embodied with an apparently unassailable sense of vanity and entitlement by Eleanor David. The relief Alan feels at their escape is soon undermined by a holiday kiss-off. Back at their apartment, Maddy starts packing things into a cardboard box as a preamble to the announcement that she plans to move out.
That night. “I meant to tell you ages ago,” she explains airily, “but the moment didn’t arise.” She regards further discussion of this rejection as unworthy of a gentleman dumpee. “Don’t let’s drag it out, Alan. Don’t be cruel.”
The remainder of the film deals with Alan Bird’s immediate attempts to recover from this untimely shock to his self-esteem. Fortunately, remedies are within reach. Alan can lament the loss, which simultaneously empties his life of a consort and his apartment of most of its furnishings, to a loyal friend, Colin (Patrick Malahide), a former college classmate who has become a surgeon. Admirably calm, Colin also offers the example of a stable domestic life, with a wife and two little girls. The eldest, 6-year-old Lily (Robin Black), inadvertently suggests a solution to one of Alan’s difficulties in time for a reassuring denouement on Christmas Day.
Alan does some blundering and overcompensating while trying to restore his morale, but his very profession is an inducement to accelerated healing. He’s a popular entertainer, a radio disc jockey known as Dicky Bird, the playful and cheerful voice of “The Early Worm Show,” a weekday drive-time blend of chitchat, news and promotions from 6 to 9 a.m. that has made him a local celebrity and reliable bright spot to listeners.
The workplace itself seems an amusing and attractive refuge. Despite the triviality of the show, it also sounds genuinely chipper and infectious. As part of his recovery, Alan envisions a new departure into serious, semi-documentary reflection - evidently premature. He can’t get beyond topic sentences while musing into a tape recorder.
But the pursuit of romantic curiosity - lovelorn Alan glimpses an attractive young woman inside a van selling ice cream and candy, then takes chase - leads to an adventure in social mediation that pays unexpected dividends. Not necessarily amorous, because Mr. Forsyth denies his hero instant consolation of that sort. Having discovered a Glasgow underworld of ice cream franchise feuding between immigrant Italian clans, Alan is permitted a diplomatic triumph. A situation that looks threatening at first takes a fantastic turn for both peacekeeping and profit, arguably worthy of a regional Nobel Prize.
The blend of skepticism and benevolence that acquires a lyrical distinction in Bill Forsyth’s best comedies is evidently an ingrained characteristic. I happened to meet Mr. Forsyth while he was editing “Local Hero,” and he was far from optimistic about the footage. Indeed, he seemed to doubt it would ever come together. A few months later, it had achieved a downright blissful logic and resonance.
The risk of trusting comic intuition more than comic formula is that the intuitions may elude coherence. That was the apparent source of dissatisfaction with Mr. Forsyth’s fitfully stirring fiasco of 1994, “Being Human,” the movie that brought his career to an untimely halt. When fate was kind to his intuitive style, the results were miracle movies of a major or minor sort, respectively a “Local Hero” or a “Comfort and Joy.” Even at this late date, it’s difficult to accept the thought that they were last good tidings we’re likely to hear from Bill Forsyth.
TITLE: “Comfort and Joy”
RATING: PG (Fleeting elements of sexual candor and episodes of violence)
CREDITS: Written and directed by Bill Forsyth. Cinematography by Chris Menges. Production design by Adrienne Atkinson, with art direction by Andy Harris. Costume design by Lindy Hemming and Mary-Jane Reyner. Music by Mark Knopfler. Jingles by Andy Park.
RUNNING TIME:93 minutes
VHS EDITION: MCA Home Video
WEB SITE:www.mca.com
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