Critic's Grade: D+

David Mamet's "Oleanna" is that not-so-rare disappointment of a film, that which brandishes a potentially thought-provoking story with lackluster acting, and a lack of interest in the piece as a whole. Reading the play and seeing the film are two completely different experiences: whereas the pages offers endless thought and pondering of the situations therein (whether you love it or hate it) the film version is quite aggravating in its inability to convey the controversial issues of the work in a commendable manner. What Mamet has done here is essentially transposed his play to the screen, with nary a change in dialogue or series of events; oddly enough, the results are disappointing.

The story revolves around a college professor (William H. Macy), whom we only know as John, who in the beginning is approached by a female student, Carol (Debra Eisenstadt), who beckons and pleads with him to explain to her the deep, dark secrets hiding within the pages of his book, which he teaches in class. This first act establishes John as a self-absorbed, arrogant bastard whose profession as a teacher affords him little joy; we see him in a somewhat hypocritical light, as he discusses with Carol his opinions about how learning is something we've been molded to accept as a predestined part of our lives.

This is all very intriguing, but it. It may be easy to understand where John is coming from, but how is any of this helping Carol? Throughout their initial conversation that reaches into the dark hours of evening (they never once leave his office), she beckons and pleads with him to help her comprehend what he is trying to say, both in his book and his spoken words. We begin to feel a sense of confusion, aiming our sympathies at Carol, whom we can see is obviously lost in the mix.

But then, Mamet turns the tables on us. With the second act, he reverses the characterization of Carol, turning her into a well-educated tyrant with a penchant for big words and in-your-face histrionics (not exactly the meek little girl we saw only moments earlier). After some questionable moves were made on the part of John the night before, she has now made claims of sexual harrassment that threaten to damage his reputation at the college and ruin his family life. It's clear from this point on that she has the upper hand: Mamet makes us wary of this by turning John into a simpering baby who's either out to protect himself from certain downfall, or truly apologetic for something he may or may not have done.

It's also painfully obvious that Carol is aiming for more than justice in her actions against John. She clearly enjoys watching him squirm: in a sense, she's exercising her power as the puppeteer, which she proves by going back to talk to him, even when she is recommended otherwise. Any sympathy we had for this character in earlier developments is lost in the transition from one act to another; soon, it comes down to a question of who is right, and who is wrong.

The events of the previous night in question can be taken in two different ways: there are those who will see his actions as a bit extreme, especially given the student/teacher nature of their relationship. Others will label his actions as responses to Carol's losing control of herself, which she clearly does in more than one instance.

So with whom shall we side? The first act pits us against John; later, we're angry with Carol (or it could be the complete opposite, depending on your point of view). In a sense, no one is the winner here. We dislike John in the beginning because he is rude and distanced from his students; later, we feel pity for him when he is faced with the possibility of losing his tenure and his house. As a reversal, we feel bad for Carol early on because she's being treated like dirt; soon, in watching her turn into a vengeful **, we come to realize that she's no more worthy of our sympathy than John was prior to the misunderstanding between them.

All of my prior comments are applicable to both the play and the movie versions, since there are very few differences between them. While I've never seen the play on the stage, I will admit to the fact that I am intrigued by the work itself, even if it doesn't prove altogether satisfying. In reading Mamet's words on the page, I felt a sense of duty and devotion to both sides: the situation is such that it inspires much controversy over who is to blame about what may or may not have been a misinterpretation of one person's words and actions. Seeing them play out here proves to be less than satisfying.

I attribute this largely to the two front-runners, Macy and Eisenstadt, who never seem to bring themselves out of the stage play mode. Take, for example, the actual play itself, in which Mamet's words read something like this:

JOHN: I'm saying that perhaps this course...
CAROL: No, no, no, you can't, you can't... I have to...
JOHN: ...how...
CAROL: ...I have to pass it...
JOHN: Carol, I:
CAROL: I have to pass this course, I...

It doesn't take a professional actor to realize that these lines are supposed to overlap, but Macy and Eisenstadt read them with hesitation, pausing for noticeable periods of time before going on, causing a stumble in the verse that is very intrusive. As John, Macy does what he can with the role, but he never seems to fit into it properly; in effect, he is unconvincing and terribly morose. It is Eisenstadt, however, who could drive a sober man to drink with her uncompromisingly bad performance; she's like a third-grader reading the lines from a school play, the little girl with that all-too-shrill voice that you couldn't help but think of as annoying. Not once is she able to convince us that she is worthy of the role's nuances.

It's strange that Mamet's adaptation of his own work should fail as it does here. One of his previous adaptations, "Glengarry Glen Ross," comes to mind. That film felt more like a movie than a stage play, whereas here, there's very little difference. Every director has a nadir in their credits, and for Mamet, it's undoubtedly "Oleanna."

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