We expect to see the moment when someone realizes he actually can’t read, or asks him a question that can’t be answered with words of agreement, mention of tree roots, or the simple acknowledgement of “I understand.” Every piece of dialogue is double-layered-there is the conversation Chance thinks he’s having, and the conversation the other person on-screen thinks they are having. Watching the film makes us constantly wonder when the universal simplicity of Chance’s words will crack. The film is a game between the characters and the viewer. This is the way Being There makes the viewer think: How does Chance keep managing to say nothing, yet say everything? He doesn’t say what people expect, so his words are taken as profundity. They take his responses and apply them to the context of the conversation. Not understanding Chance’s limitations, people interpret his statements as metaphors. Chance says he can’t read, and a man jests about the busy nature of the American working man leaving no time for reading. A Russian diplomat assumes Chance knows Russian because he laughs at a joke. He answers questions literally and simply, almost always within the context of gardening, and people endlessly mis-hear him. A man of extreme low intelligence who looks good, dresses in fine suits and speaks in platitudes is mistaken for someone of deep contemplation. Being There is more than a dark comedy or a satire of American media and social power. Is Chance (Peter Sellers) really walking on water? What does it mean? Is he supposed to be a Christ figure? Is his apparent lack of intellect actually the supreme wisdom everyone thinks it is? Who, exactly, is being fooled here?Ī number of schools of thought exist on the subject, as is the nature of film. The final scene of Being There (1979) has sparked years of discussion.

Being there