The Object of Beauty (1991)

"But why did you take it?" "Because it spoke to me..."

‘The old London taxi: that distinctive diesel rumble and the slamming of doors…’

Tina: You've always said when it comes to food, shoes, and sex, price is no object.

Jake: Good shoes are important!

Here’s an elegant, witty and well-written film from writer and director Michael Lindsay-Hogg, described on the IMDb (international movie database) website as a ‘smart (in the American sense) little Chekhovian drama about greed and infidelity’, which, I suspect, may well be off your radar. Lindsay-Hogg was the original director on Brideshead Revisited (1981). However, an unfortunate ITV technician’s strike and delays in the production meant that, ultimately, Charles Sturridge had to take over for most of the filming. Jake (John Malkovich) and Tina (She-Who-Can-Do-No-Wrong, Andie MacDowell) are a pair of thirty-something Armani-clad American Yuppies holed up in an expensive, old-school London hotel — and they’ve run out of dough. They’re stone broke. Or, at least, Jake is. Jake’s some sort of commodity or futures broker trading cocoa, and his ship ain’t coming in. Tied up by a tiresome revolution in some far-away Third World Country of Which We Know Nothing.

Henry Moore: The Object of Beauty…

Except. Tina owns a Henry Moore (“My cute l’il Henry Moore”), a present from her ex-husband, Larry (Peter Riegert), who — er — actually, she’s still married to. Theoretically. The object in question is a small bronze head, mounted on marble, actually very similar to Strata, cast in 1960 in an edition of 9 (plus artist’s proof). Could be yours for fifteen thousand smackers, if bought at auction today — plus, buyer’s premium, of course.

Jake: What is spaghetti made of? The ingredients?

Tina: I dunno. Flour and water?

Jake: How much does that cost? A dollar tops for maybe 100 or 1000 strands? And how many strands are on this plate? 50 to 80, give or take? So why is what I am paying for this dinner more than the national debt of a Third World country?

And then the Henry Moore goes missing, nicked from Tina’s bedside table. And there’s a deaf maid, Jenny (Rudi Davies), who lives with her spotty, dysfunctional punk brother (Ricci Harnett) in a grotty, damp-infested basement flat — and yet, has more taste than the rest of them put together. And there’s a canny yet sympathetic insurance investigator (played by the excellent Jack Shepherd), plus a terrific supporting cast of bow-tied London art dealers (Pip Torrens) and a velvet-jacketed, bearded Jeremy Sinden at a plummy Chelsea dinner party. And a marvellously pompous and efficient pinstriped hotel manager, played by Joss Ackland:

“I retire in June, Victor, and I want to leave here on a seamless cloud of perfection. A great hotel is like an ocean-going liner, Mrs Doughty. Stewards with white gloves in the lounge, and the burly stoker down below. And it all must mesh. Seamlessly.”

“American Express?”