The Unfair Fate of 'Mary Reilly': When Critics Miss the Mark
There’s something profoundly unsettling about how quickly the film industry—and its critics—can turn on a project. It’s as if the moment a movie is labeled a ‘flop,’ it’s sentenced to a cultural death row, with reviewers sharpening their pens before the credits even roll. Take Mary Reilly, the 1996 horror-drama starring Julia Roberts, for example. On paper, it had all the makings of a cinematic triumph: a reimagined classic, a powerhouse cast, and a director known for his nuanced storytelling. Yet, it was dismissed almost universally—except by one critic who saw something the others missed.
The Pack Mentality of Film Criticism
What’s striking about Mary Reilly’s reception is how it fell victim to what I call the ‘pack mentality’ of film criticism. Personally, I think this phenomenon is one of the most under-discussed issues in the industry. Critics, like any group, can be swayed by pre-release buzz, production gossip, or the sheer weight of expectations. In the case of Mary Reilly, the film was bumped from awards season to a February release—a move that, in my opinion, sealed its fate before anyone even saw it. February is often a dumping ground for movies studios don’t believe in, and critics, sensing blood in the water, pounced.
But here’s the thing: Mary Reilly wasn’t a disaster. It was a quiet, atmospheric retelling of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde from the perspective of a maid. What many people don’t realize is that this shift in perspective was groundbreaking. It wasn’t just another horror flick; it was a study of power dynamics, gender, and moral ambiguity. Yet, most reviewers focused on Julia Roberts’ accent or the film’s slow pace, missing the forest for the trees.
Roger Ebert’s Lone Defense
One thing that immediately stands out is Roger Ebert’s review, which stands in stark contrast to the critical bloodbath. Ebert didn’t just review the film; he got it. He praised its gloomy atmosphere, its fidelity to the gothic genre, and its exploration of the human psyche. In his words, Mary Reilly wasn’t about special effects or monster makeup—it was about ‘a powerless young woman who feels sympathy for one side of a man’s nature, and horror of the other.’
From my perspective, Ebert’s insight is what makes film criticism so vital. He didn’t let the hype or the production troubles cloud his judgment. He engaged with the film on its own terms, and in doing so, he uncovered its true value. This raises a deeper question: How often do we, as critics or viewers, let external noise drown out the art in front of us?
The Misunderstood Genius of Adaptation
A detail that I find especially interesting is how Mary Reilly reimagined a well-worn story. Adaptations of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde are a dime a dozen, but this one dared to be different. By centering Mary, the film explored themes of agency, class, and moral complicity. What this really suggests is that even familiar stories can be revitalized if we’re willing to look at them from a new angle.
Yet, this innovation was largely overlooked. Critics were too busy dissecting the film’s flaws to appreciate its ambition. If you take a step back and think about it, this is a recurring issue in cinema. We’re quick to judge what doesn’t conform to our expectations, often at the expense of originality.
The Broader Implications for Cinema
What makes Mary Reilly’s story particularly fascinating is what it reveals about the film industry’s appetite for risk. This was a project that could have been a game-changer—a horror film with depth, a star vehicle with substance. Instead, it was written off as a failure. In my opinion, this is a cautionary tale about the dangers of groupthink, both in criticism and in Hollywood.
If studios and critics alike are too afraid to embrace unconventional ideas, we’ll continue to see the same safe, formulaic films dominate the box office. Mary Reilly may not have been perfect, but it was bold. And in an era where originality is increasingly rare, that’s something worth celebrating, not dismissing.
Final Thoughts
As I reflect on Mary Reilly and its place in cinematic history, I’m reminded of how often we miss the mark when we let preconceptions guide our judgments. Roger Ebert’s review isn’t just a defense of a flawed film; it’s a call to engage with art more thoughtfully. Personally, I think we could all benefit from a little more of Ebert’s approach—to look beyond the surface, to question our assumptions, and to appreciate the ambition behind the execution.
Maybe, just maybe, Mary Reilly wasn’t a flop after all. It was a film ahead of its time, misunderstood by many but appreciated by a few. And in that, there’s a lesson for all of us.
