Peter Greenaway wrote and directed this typically surreal and iconoclastic black comedy. Three generations of women who share the same name -- 63-year-old Cissie Colpitts (Joan Plowright), her daughter Cissie Colpitts II (Juliet Stevenson), and granddaughter Cissie Colpitts III (Joely Richardson) -- have all discovered the same way of dealing with their marital problems. The senior Cissie has drowned her husband Jake (Bryan Pringle) in the bathtub, her daughter sent her spouse Hardy (Trevor Cooper) to a watery grave in the ...
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Peter Greenaway wrote and directed this typically surreal and iconoclastic black comedy. Three generations of women who share the same name -- 63-year-old Cissie Colpitts (Joan Plowright), her daughter Cissie Colpitts II (Juliet Stevenson), and granddaughter Cissie Colpitts III (Joely Richardson) -- have all discovered the same way of dealing with their marital problems. The senior Cissie has drowned her husband Jake (Bryan Pringle) in the bathtub, her daughter sent her spouse Hardy (Trevor Cooper) to a watery grave in the ocean, and the youngest Cissie sent her husband Bellamy (David Morrissey) down in a swimming pool. Needless to say, local coroner Henry Madgett (Barnard Hill) has some questions about this sudden rash of drownings among the Colpitts husbands, and again all three women respond in the same way: they promise to sleep with Henry in exchange for recording the deaths as accidental (though none of the Cissies make good on this promise). When the local gossip mill begins working overtime about this sudden rash of water-related deaths, Henry's teenage son Smut (Jason Edwards) comes to the aid of the Cissies and organizes a tug-of-war, with he and the Colpitts women on one side and the doubting townspeople on the other (and, of course, a river in the middle). Along the way, Greenaway often stops to contemplate his obsessions with literature, astronomy, and numbers. Drowning by Numbers was released in Europe in 1988, but didn't find its way to American screens until 1991, following the success of Greenaway's The Cook, the Thief, His Wife and Her Lover. Mark Deming, Rovi
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Seller's Description:
Michael Percival, David Morrissey, Jane Gurnett, Kenny Ireland, Joanna Dickens, Janine Duvitski, Michael Fitzgerald, Edward... New. 2023 Run time: 119. Buy with confidence-Satisfaction Guaranteed! Delivery Confirmation included for all orders in the US.
Choose your shipping method in Checkout. Costs may vary based on destination.
Seller's Description:
Jane Gurnett, Kenny Ireland, Paul Mooney, John Rogan, David Morrissey, Trevor Cooper, Jason Edwards, Bernard Hill, Joan... New. 2023 Run time: 119. Buy with confidence-Satisfaction Guaranteed! Delivery Confirmation included for all orders in the US.
A strangely dressed child is skipping and counting the stars by name - up to 100. Move to a drunken, naked couple cavorting inside a house among apples, eventually half-sleeping in separate tin baths full of soupy water, while the man's wife (Joan Plowright) looks on. She enters and drowns her husband, holding his head under three times and counting. You have entered a film that apes insanity. There are three Cissie Colpitts (Joan Plowright, Juliet Stevenson and Joely Richardson) and during the film, each drowns her respective husband. The coroner in the vicinity (played by a lusty Bernard Hill) covers up the murders after sexual promises.
This unpleasant story takes place in some English backwater, a place where the game of 'catch' suggestively evokes doom, with the ones out lying on a winding sheet, and where cars at night have a funereal quality. There is the ubiquitous yokel with a spade on hand to dig the ground for a grave. It's either all very clever or simply a failed work of art.
Peter Greenaway as director obviously enjoys provoking and mystifying, which can be either intriguing or irritating, depending on the needs of the viewer. Numbers 1 to 100 are manifest throughout the film, but why? Joan Plowright's character is asked why she murdered her husband, and says he was unfailful and stopped washing his feet. Nothing makes real sense, but perhaps Greenaway is making this very point anyway. The viewer will probably ponder the scenes after watching the film, but in the end will likely regret the 118 minutes spent on it.
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