Timothy Hutton, Peter Sarsgaard, Liam Neeson as Dr. Alfred Kinsey, Chris O'Donnell in Bill Condon's Kinsey
Also like the controversial heroes of previous biopics, Dustin Hoffman's Lenny Bruce in Lenny and Montgomery Clift's Dr. Sigmund Freud in Freud, Kinsey is ostracized because he dares tell the uncomfortable truth to a hypocritical society that wants none of it. But unlike Hoffman's abrasive stand-up comedian or Clift's detached psychoanalyst, Condon's Alfred Kinsey is an eccentric but wholly likable fellow. And therein lies Kinsey's biggest flaw.
Since this is a (mostly) American movie, one can accept hunky Liam Neeson playing the hound-faced Alfred Kinsey, a carbon copy of actor Tom Ewell (the quasi-errant husband in the Marilyn Monroe comedy The Seven Year Itch). However, I found it difficult to accept a sex-obsessed hero who is hardly ever shown enjoying the pleasures of sex. Even if Kinsey was more interested in documenting sex than actually experiencing it (something that is not true according to his biographers), were those clinical experiments a form of erotic stimulation? That's a taboo subject matter as far as Condon is concerned.
Thus, we have a film about sex that is terrified of sensuality. Juvenile and clinical discussions about sex are allowed, but real eroticism and the dreaded NC-17 rating are to be avoided at all costs. Most of the performances suffer as a result, since those people come across more like lab rats than real, sensual human beings. Neeson's power, in particular, is diminished.
Despite a realistic kissing scene with Clyde and a couple of sexual moments with his wife, Kinsey comes across as a bland, asexual observer. Neeson is a capable player (as long as he doesn't have to cry), and he could have been considerably more forceful — if less "likable" — had the film actively dealt with Kinsey's unconstrained sexual behavior (including his reported masochistic tendencies), his arrogance (e.g., Kinsey ignored warnings by some scientists that his methodology was flawed), and his obsession with — or ruthlessness in — getting case histories (including those of pedophiles).
Laura Linney's Clara, for her part, is more an appendix than an actual character. Like countless other devoted film wives, Clara is the one who brings the researchers refreshments, cries when her husband strays, and acts as pacifier during family squabbles. Given the limitations of this underwritten and — apart from the extra-marital sex — conventional role, Linney does surprisingly well.
A few of Kinsey's other supporting players are also quite capable. That includes a handful of bit players, particularly one hilarious elderly woman who claims, "I invented it!" ("It" being masturbation.) Also, Oscar winner Timothy Hutton, is highly effective in a small role as one of Kinsey's assistants. In fact, Hutton is so good that if there is any cinematic justice he will one day star as Dr. Kinsey in a truly fearless version of the researcher's life.
But Kinsey's acting highlight is the appearance of Lynn Redgrave, nearly unrecognizable under a Doris Day wig, as the final on-screen subject of the Kinsey study. Redgrave's talking head unleashes a firestorm of emotion that is noticeably absent from the rest of the film. In that one sequence, Kinsey is miraculously transformed into a movie about flesh-and-blood human beings. Had Condon managed to convey throughout his film half the amount of sheer humanness generated in the Redgrave sequence, Kinsey would have been a masterpiece.
As it is, this moderately daring biopic is an adequate look at the life of a controversial and still relevant figure whose revolutionary work, if performed in the United States, would be as misconstrued today as it was more than half a century ago. Much has changed, Redgrave's thankful character tells Dr. Kinsey. Sadly, however, much still remains the same.
Note: A version of this Kinsey review was initially posted in October 2004.