Damn, they never dust those secret passages!
The Canterville Ghost (1996) features a clash between the essence of Shakespeare, embodied in the ghost of Sir Simon de Canterville, who met Shakespeare back in the day and has studied the man’s works ever since, and the essence of science, the arrogant physicist Harry Otis in command.
Between them is Otis’ daughter, Ginny, wife, Lucille, and the two sons, troublemakers. And don’t forget Mr. and Mrs. Umney, who, ummmm, run the English castle in which the Otises, Americans, will reside while the physicist, mysterious, is doing his research, unspecified. I mean, is this a sinecure or what?
The arrival of the Otises kicks off the fun, as the townspeople lay quiet bets as to whether the Otises will make it through the first night, or if it’ll be exit, stage left, between the moaning and squeaking and howling. They do make it through, but that means Ginny now has time to be bored, a boredom alleviated only when a handsome, teenaged duke, perhaps he’s just heir apparent, makes an appearance (love the car!). Captivated by Ginny, he knows and tolerates the ghost, which is more than can be said for dear old rationalist Dad, or Dr. Otis if you prefer, who believes that every squeak and squawk can be explained.
Which isn’t going to help him when Sir Simon makes his appearance. In fact, it’s so unhelpful that the Doctor and Lucille literally can’t see him. Which raises all sorts of questions concerning existence, or lack thereof, which the story promptly ignores.
Eventually, the tawdry and tragic story of Sir Simon comes out, with a bit of help from Shakespeare, and Ginny finds that she’s the key to Sir Simon’s rest – a bit of forgiveness and some advocacy to the latest revision of Charon, purely off-stage, and Sir Simon is released.
The strength of this movie lies not in the story, which, although it has some fun little quirks, such as a ghost that can itself be frightened, is basically rather weak-kneed in its obeisance to its tired supernatural and mythical tropes. The strength here lies in the performance of Patrick Stewart, in the role of Sir Simon, who brings his Shakespearean training and voice to bear on this tragic, mad ghost, who has not slept since his death at the hands of his in-laws. (Note to self: do not drive wife insane.) His commitment to a role that could have been painful makes the movie tolerable, especially as none of the other actors are execrable, although the role of Harry is, I fear, irredeemable; not the fault of the actor, Edward Wiley.
While skating near the side of the ice rink and almost into the frozen mud that lies waiting for the unwary, it never quite falls on its face, mostly because of the efforts of Stewart. It’s not a life changer, as the plot is too silly, but it can be a pleasant way to spend an hour or two.
