I watched this again recently, and I was struck by the movie's dislike for John Torturro's character. Watching this ten years ago, I thought the characterization was pat but not subversive, but based on this viewing I've changed my mind. What I find loathsome is how far the filmmakers would go to contrast the Jewish Stempel with the WASPy van Doren, to the point of completely dehumanizing the former. It may be true that the real Stempel possessed all those physical and verbal tics that the director burdens him with, but Torturro does not (or is not allowed to) imbue the character with an ounce of quiet dignity in the way Fiennes so obviously does, and that upset me. In the eyes of Goodwin, the protagonist, and therefore in our eyes, Stempel's sole character trait is his "jewishness." As stereotypes go, this may be the worst kind, a well-meaning one that seeks to illustrate a big truth at the expense of small truth. Overall the acting was just OK, and Ray Fiennes' crucial performance leaves one cold, although Hank Azaria and Paul Scofield were very good in smaller roles.
What this film exposes, yet again, is the toxicity of a certain kind of liberalism, dutifully espoused by Redford. In his heart, he wants nothing more than to be a van Doren, nothing less than to be a Stempel. In his wide-eyed buildup to the scene at the van Doren estate in Connecticut, where all those liberal lions gather, Redford is like a southern belle pining for the good old days; he likes things the way they were, and sees past (or rather embraces) the aloof ruthlessness with which they dismiss everything but their little games. Love for fellow man has been bred out of them along with all but the blue pigment out of their irises. Redford would do anything to be part of the clique up on that Olympus, and if mocking Stempel is what it takes, he'll do it.
What this film exposes, yet again, is the toxicity of a certain kind of liberalism, dutifully espoused by Redford. In his heart, he wants nothing more than to be a van Doren, nothing less than to be a Stempel. In his wide-eyed buildup to the scene at the van Doren estate in Connecticut, where all those liberal lions gather, Redford is like a southern belle pining for the good old days; he likes things the way they were, and sees past (or rather embraces) the aloof ruthlessness with which they dismiss everything but their little games. Love for fellow man has been bred out of them along with all but the blue pigment out of their irises. Redford would do anything to be part of the clique up on that Olympus, and if mocking Stempel is what it takes, he'll do it.