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| Benedict Cumberbatch cracks the code in The Imitation Game. |
««1/2 The Imitation Game. Written by Graham Moore, based on the book by
Andrew Hodges. Directed by Morten Tyldum. At selected theaters.
The appearance of high-gloss bio-pics about scientists is
the best evidence yet of the peaking cultural cachet of nerdiness. Along with
the Stephen Hawking story in The Theory
of Everything, we now have The
Imitation Game, Morten Tyldum's account of the brilliant, sad career of
British mathematician Alan Turing.
The "human interest" hook with Hawking is his
lifelong struggle with the disease that has left him a prisoner in his own
body. Turing led the team that broke Nazi Germany's Enigma code—a key step in assuring
Allied victory in World War II; he also laid much of the theoretical groundwork
for modern computer science. But he was a closeted gay man at a time when
homosexuality was a crime in Britain. His punishment for "indecency"
is widely supposed (but never proven) to be the reason he committed suicide in
1952. That outrageous contrast—the genius and war hero unjustly persecuted
merely for whom he loves—has made Turing a secular saint in these times.
From a certain point of view, whether Hawking is crippled
or Turing a victim of homophobia shouldn't really figure in our interest in
them. Turing's work for British intelligence is said to have shortened the war
by two full years and saved 14 million lives. Hawking has made seminal
contributions to our understanding of the universe. In a better kind of world, such towering intellectual achievements would alone be enough to make these
men fascinating. But we don't live in that world, and the story of saving 14
million lives isn't necessarily worth telling without the subsequent, tawdry downfall.
Nerdiness may be cool, but ideas still aren't.
The irascible Hawking would no doubt tell us where to stick
our "human interest" for his plight—he prefers to be remembered for his
science, not for being a disabled scientist. No doubt Turing would also object
to going down in history as "that mopey gay codebreaker."
The Imitation Game
is a well-crafted work of reverential biography that takes absolutely no
chances with Turing's complex legacy. The script by Graham Moore presents him
as the usual genius with precious few social skills, alienating everyone around
him as he almost single-handedly drags Britain to victory. Benedict
Cumberbatch—who seems to be everywhere these days—is poignant and convincing in
the lead. While Keira Knightley seems to be here purely as evidence of Turing's
orientation (as in "anybody not interested in her must truly be gay"),
she's also fresh in a way none of the other actors (Matthew Goode, Downton Abbey's Allen Leech) manage.
Unfortunately, everything about The Imitation Game seems tailored not to upset anyone. Turing's
identity as a gay man is invested entirely in a chaste schoolboy crush he had
on a fellow student—an experience he likely had in common with a good number of
not-so-gay English males at the time. Tyldum never risks rattling the teacups
by presenting the adult Turing in the act of being intimate with an adult man. In
that sense, the movie seems every bit as uneasy with homosexuality as the
benighted era it depicts.
For American audiences, there should be an extra level of
ambivalence attached to Turing's career. After his team cracked the Enigma
code, the British government didn't trust their American allies to keep
that fact secret. Turing was obliged to lie to his US counterparts, keeping
them in the dark about technology that might have saved thousands of American
lives. Of course, when there are American Oscars to win, Tyldum dares not touch
any of that.
©
2014 Nicholas Nicastro
