Hysteria

We're picking up bad vibrations

First published on 11 Jul 2012. Updated on 11 Jul 2012.

Whirring along like clockwork with less-than-orgasmic results, this Victorian-era comedy about the invention of the vibrator will work for the self-satisfied only -– ie, those who can’t score a hot date with a Merchant Ivory film. What’s a handsome young doctor (nondescript Hugh Dancy) to do when his efforts at modern medicine are rebuffed? A London job hunt results in a promising junior position with fastidious Dr Dalrymple (Jonathan Pryce), whose waiting room is crammed with smiling middle-aged women. In the examination chamber (with good-taste curtains in place), we observe the vigorous treatments; mild shivers of laughter reveal audience members who enjoy having their senses of propriety stroked.

There’s nothing strictly wrong with any of this, except for the fact that even a buttoned-down period piece like Topsy-Turvy feels sexier. Curdling its one-note joke, the script pushes forward disparate elements for anyone who might actually be embarrassed: Maggie Gyllenhaal clomps around as a protofeminist libertine, a love interest who’s seen helping small children and abusing table manners in equal measure. Meanwhile, electrical advances turn the private sessions into mock-Frankensteinian experiments, complete with safety goggles; can’t the same remove be said of director Tanya Wexler’s timid handling of the subject? Never do you sense that any hysteria-diagnosed females are headed for the lobotomy room. This is the kind of myth that basically ends with a judge declaring the end of sexism. Paging Dr Cronenberg…

Words by Joshua Rothkopf |

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