Starring

Peter Sellers

and

Sinéad Cusack

Directed by Alvin Rakoff

108 minutes

They always say that it’s harder to write about something you like than something you don’t, and this is certainly true of me. It’s easy to be able to get your teeth into a spectacularly bad film and rip it to shreds, mocking the bad dialogue or the inane plotting or the lack of a decent part for Terry-Thomas, all the while keeping an ironic tone in order to provoke easy laughs. And so here I am with the daunting prospect of trying to review my favourite actor, giving his best performance, in one of my very favourite films of all time. Frankly, I don’t know exactly what to say in order to do the film justice – it’s not a very "big" movie, there’s no dazzling effects or landscapes on show, nor a glittering cast of thousands, nor even anything that makes it look as though any great deal of money was put into it. "Hoffman" is a very small scale film, and wasn’t particularly well known even to fans of Peter Sellers (due to it never having been really shown in any cinemas when it was originally made – it was distinctly buried and forgotten, hardly seen by anybody) until quite recently when it was released on DVD in both the UK and America, a 1970s drama snuck into a box-set comprising of low budget black-and-white Sellers comedies. However, if one really gives it the time it deserves, one discovers a rather wonderful little story that can both amuse, unnerve, and, on some occasions, actually frighten the viewer.

"Hoffman" is, for all intents and purposes, a two-hander, with a couple of small roles here and there just to keep the plot going (though only the part of Cusack’s boyfriend, played by Robin Askwith lookalike Jeremy Bulloch, actually has any importance, despite only being in scenes that top and tail the film), and it’s credit to its two stars that at no point did I ever feel bored, and I’ve seen this film about seven times now in less than two years. Some reviewers (and even the film’s own director) have complained about the pacing, saying that not enough happens to actually warrant the long running time (though everywhere I look it’s billed as having a 113 minute duration, even on the DVD packaging, despite it actually being five minutes shorter than that), and that most scenes just linger on for too long without really going anywhere. I can’t really constructively defend against that viewpoint apart from saying that I personally find nothing wrong with the pacing at all. The story is after all about personal failings and motivations, and so the meandering nature of many scenes fits the tone perfectly, a tone introduced to us via the majestic vocals of Matt Munro, singing "If there ever is a next time…" over the opening credits.

Benjamin Hoffman is an office worker who has apparently blackmailed his secretary into spending a week with him at his flat, for purposes he details slowly and with depraved relish – "Miss Smith, you are here to be two arms, two legs, a face… and what fits in the middle." His attitude towards the frightened girl is, though never aggressive, distinctly unpleasant, and from the outset we are led to believe that his intention is simply to have sex with her as many times as he can in the time allowed. "The bedroom is…" he begins, as soon as Miss Janet Smith steps timidly through his front door, "… Or perhaps you’d rather use the bathroom first?" He then stands outside the closed bathroom door, an upturned sneer on his face, talking to his cornered quarry through the barricade: "Please make yourself look as though you want to be fertilised…" When no answer is forthcoming, he simply flings open the door. "The locks don’t work," he smiles, and begins to step towards her…

The first forty minutes of Hoffman are tense and have their own element of terror – we can sit back and watch any number of "snarling monster attacks small village" films and not bat an eyelid, but isn’t it much more frightening when the opposing force is simply the lustful desires of one ordinary human being, at work in a confined environment from which there is no escape? When Miss Smith unsurprisingly loses her nerve ("You said I was to be treated with respect,") early on and tries to make a bolt for it, she manages to get halfway down the stairs before the desperate cries of Benjamin Hoffman halt her in her tracks. "Have you thought what will happen to you if you walk out of that door? … Now come on, let’s start again shall we?…" You’d be forgiven for thinking that this dark and oppressive tone would be prevalent throughout the rest of the film, and yet it somehow isn’t. Indeed, at times "Hoffman" is terribly witty and elicits quite a few laughs here and there, mainly through the cynicism of its central male character. Lines such as "Lips that touch kippers shall never touch mine," raise a smile, and his impatience at Miss Smith not choosing a meal at a restaurant results in a weary "How about boiled cat?… Actually I think it’s off, isn’t it? … Yes, boiled cat’s off…" There’s a great scene about an hour in where the two characters, sleeping in the same bed (Miss Smith against her will, of course, though she seems to forget this as the week progresses…), begin to argue like a typical couple:

"When a woman begins to complain it means that she is feeling thoroughly at home!"

"There! I didn’t come here to feel ‘thoroughly at home’! … I never thought I’d be here for you to give me medicine and… snore!"

"Now just a moment, I do not snore!"

"Oh yes, Mr. Hoffman, you do snore!"

"…Immediately I fall asleep?"

"Immediately."

"… Softly?"

"Loudly."

The plot is deceptively simple (it’s really the old "terrorist and his hostage" scenario), yet has its layers if you’re willing to look for them. The subplot about Hoffman’s wife is a case in point – we initially assume that they divorced, though a diary and a locked bedroom may yield different answers: "Is it likely she’ll come back?" "Highly unlikely…" It’s actually a subject never given final closure, and we are left to draw our own conclusions. Even what motivates Miss Smith to take the actions that she does at the finale is left open for debate (and may leave a nasty taste in the mouth of some viewers). As a film about personal demons and emotions, it’s fitting that nothing is ever really spelt out; we just make what we can with what we’re given.

Peter Sellers as Benjamin Hoffman is superb, though some reviewers have been led to the conclusion that a lot of what we see in this film is Sellers himself – certainly, the mournful, "bloodhound" face seems to fit in with what we know of the actor, and his eyes, usually bright and electric in one of his typical comedy guises, seem somehow mellow and truthful here. The fact that Sellers, upon watching the film, was so frightened of it being released that he offered to buy the print so that he could burn it lends credence to this theory. Whatever the case, Sellers gives Hoffman the quiet, interior turmoil that such a character so desperately needed – and, interestingly, we often see that Hoffman himself is playing a part, pretending to be the aloof and "filthy" captor when under Miss Smith’s gaze, yet fussing around with the tea and aspirins when out of sight. The dry wit is delivered just as well as the self-pitying soliloquies, and it really is a rather fantastic performance. It even reaches a point where you might even begin to empathise with his feelings of loss and misplaced passion – Hoffman’s problem isn’t that he has desire, it’s that he feels the need to have desires.

"Girls all over the world are afraid of men with my expression. Plain, sad-faced men… Swarms of mature, sexually starved men, their thoughts on breasts, and bottoms and thighs… In offices and buses and trains… Men who’ve missed the boat, but who still need love. Well Miss Smith, their day is coming. Their revolution is almost upon you… Hope never dies in a man with a good dirty mind…"

Sinéad Cusack is also fantastic as Miss Smith, being never less than totally convincing, whether afraid, angry or just plain annoyed with what’s going on. She engages our sympathies instantly, and so we’re constantly rooting for her, which lends tension to scenes in which she tries to escape from the clutches of Hoffman, or screws her eyes shut in grave acceptance of what is to happen to her. Once again, the ending may strike some as being rather unlikely, but Cusack’s performance obscures this by just being so likeable and believable that we’re willing to just simply think of her as an individual, who wouldn’t necessarily do what we think we’d do in the same situation. It also helps that she and Sellers seem to have a good acting rapport, both complementing each other excellently.

The direction is rather good, with some nifty shots through cracks in the door and shadows playing a large part in the proceedings. There’s notably one single shot that lasts for eight whole minutes, which follows its two actors all over the flat – and yet it never loses our interest. There’s also good use of sound, and even of silence, in conveying the mood of each individual scene. And it may interest you that the, frankly rather wonderful, musical score was composed by Ron "Doctor Who" Grainer. Which is nice.

To be honest, I probably would never have watched this film, let alone liked it, were Sellers not its star. I generally shy away from films that could be bleak and rather nervy, especially one where sexual harassment could be on the agenda. Reading a plot synopsis of "Hoffman" wouldn’t make me want to see it, and I could understand nobody here ever wanting to come within several miles of it. But with Sellers at the helm, it becomes a fantastic film for me, in a way because it shows a side of the actor that he rarely, if ever, utilised on screen; his general emptiness.

There’s little more I can really say about this film without giving anything away. It’s doubtful whether many of you will ever see it – it’s never shown in the television listings, and if you’re a Sellers fan than you’ll probably have seen it already. But, well, I just wanted to put in 1800 odd words defending what I think to be one of the most unfairly neglected films of all, as it really is a rather marvellous feature. If you’re interested in seeing comic genius Peter Sellers giving a more sombre, emotionally-led performance, give it a go – you can pick up copies of it for about £6 online. Whatever feelings you may have coming away from this review, at least I can feel satisfied with knowing that I’ve finally put fingers to keyboard and said why I think "Hoffman" is one of the best films ever made. And at the very least it’s another Sellers review under me belt.