The Imitation Game Review

The British have a term for people whose charm and magnetism comes not only from their curves and dimples, but equally from their IQ and clever wit.

Such idols who are loved for their brains are termed “A Thinking Man’s Crumpet” if they are admired by men, or “A Thinking Woman’s Crumpet” if they are admired by women.

For the record, an English crumpet is a cousin to the English muffin, a spongy bread about three inches across, and less than an inch thick.

Comparing attractive people to food risks being gender insensitive, of course, but since the crumpet applies equally offensively to both men and women, we’ll just ignore the pesky issues of political correctness.

The first woman “honored” as a “Thinking Man’s Crumpet” was Joan Bakewell, because, as one writer noted, she was “intelligent, articulate, and chic and object of desire for male viewers of a certain social position.”

Subsequent British polls have bestowed the honor on the likes of Gillian Anderson (“X-Files”) and Dame Helen Mirren, an Oscar-winner for her portrayal of Queen Elizabeth II. I would add Glenda Jackson and Emma Thompson to the list.

The men so honored have included Colin Firth and the most recently anointed Benedict Cumberbatch.

Cumberbatch appears now to be sitting on the throne quite alone wearing the crown as king of crumpets, with all other pretenders merely standing outside the palace as princes in waiting.

Cumberbatch, 38, a classically trained Shakespearean actor, lived in the shadows of the famous until he was cast as Sherlock, in the BBC revival that first aired in 2010. The revised tales of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (three per year for three years so far), complete with cell phones and text messages, were a smash hit in England, a shortly afterwards, in The States.

Suddenly, Cumberbatch was an “it” actor sought by all, which led to his being cast in a prized role as Alan Turing in “The Imitation Game,” a performance that surely landed him an Oscar nomination yesterday morning. I feel equally clairvoyant that the film is among the Best Picture nominees, although this column “went to press” many days ago. (If Cumberbatch was not nominated, I shall find the smallest step in Helena, and jump off.)

If ever roles were perfectly suited for “A Thinking Woman’s Crumpet” it was Sherlock and Turing. Although a case could be made, given Cumberbatch’s flexible sexual identity, that he’s probably just as often regarded as a “Thinking Man’s Crumpet.”

In both parts, Cumberbatch plays a frighteningly smart man.

In “Sherlock” Cumberbatch — with his index fingers on his temples — enters his “mind palace” to solve crimes and in “The Imitation Game,” he breaks unbreakable Nazi codes.

In fact, one criticism of his Turing portrayal has been that it draws a little too much from Sherlock, rather than carving out the nuances of Turing that differed from Sherlock. That’s a fair complaint, given that the script takes some liberties with the life of Turing.

“Imitation Game” is a powerful film that plays out like a one of Sherlock’s cases. A team of Britain’s smartest human beings are tapped to remove the enigma from “Enigma,” Germany’s baffling code used to transmit war-time messages.

This group project, termed by one critic “the revenge of the nerds,” involves the “birth” of the computer.

While the script conveniently credits Turing as the lone inventor of the computer, many subsequent critical essays have noted that others deserve equal credit, including Polish scholars who first conceived “The Bombe” (the nickname for the monstrous first computer) and British mathematician Gordon Welchman, who worked beside Turing at Bletchley Park.

Most of “The Imitation Game” takes place at Bletchley Park, the secret headquarters of the Enigma project.

Like an intricately conceived episode of Sherlock, “The Imitation Game” follows the British nerds as they bash their heads against The Bombe until, one day, an inspiration explodes inside Turing’s head that leads to the breaking of the code.

The story is tense, riveting and beautifully acted — the story of brains, not brawn, helping to turn the tide of WWII.

But there’s a troubling problem with “The Imitation Game” that diminishes its ultimate power and authenticity.

Turing was gay at a time (the 1940s) when to be gay was to risk being ostracized, imprisoned and perhaps even chemically altered. The script does not hide Turing’s homosexuality, but the story seems determined to end as the triumph of the cryptographic crumpets rather than as a cautionary tragedy, that more aptly sums up Turing’s life.

Only after the credits roll are we told in a screen note that Turing was convicted of sex-related charges and that a few years later he committed suicide.

Not knowing that part of Turing’s story, I physically jolted when the short note about his death rolled across the screen.

Afterwards, looking back, I could see how consciously the script had softened the issue of Turing’s persecution for his homosexuality, and how steadfastly the script chose to emphasize “the solving of the Enigma puzzle” as the focus of preference to “The Imitation Game.”

Being fair, the script does make his struggle with his sexuality a part of the story, but very much a part of the background canvas upon which the Enigma tale could be painted as foreground.

The script also includes Joan Clarke, a female genius and love interest, played quite believably by Keira Knightley.

I was CERTAIN as I left the theater that Clarke was a fabrication to appease box office, but I was wrong: Clarke was a brilliant lady who did work on the Enigma project and did indeed have a close friendship with Turing. Other facts are rearranged and invented, but many of the central facts are true — this team of brilliant minds did, indeed, crack the code at Bletchley Park and Turing was indeed a key reason they succeeded. Turing isn’t the sole father of the computer, but he’s certainly part of its family tree.

Interestingly, “The Imitation Game” is a mirror of “The Theory of Everything,” the story of another genius, Stephen Hawking.

“Everything” de-emphasized the mind of Hawking in order to tell the story of his heart, most notably his first marriage. By contrast “Imitation Game” deemphasizes the personal tragedy of Turing in order to pay tribute to his mind.

Both films could have profited from more balance between heart and mind, but each film chose a single focus, at the expense of the other themes — cinematically understandable, but historically unbalanced.

Curiously, in 2004, Cumberbatch played Stephen Hawking in a well-reviewed British production about Hawking’s life. (It’s available on Amazon Prime, and elsewhere.)

Cumberbatch is a marvel whose star is rising with meteoric speed. I can hardly wait for Christmas 2015 when the next episode of “Sherlock” arrives, and I’m equally excited to see what other roles he chooses.

He’s on record as admitting “I am so ready to play a really dumb character.” He clearly wants to escape typecasting as a cute, smart, tasty crumpet.

Afterthought: Carroll College may have its own “Thinking Woman’s Crumpet” in the likes of charismatic math professor and astronomer Kelly Cline. To date, however, his performances have been mostly lecturing in front of screens, rather than appearing on them. Stay tuned.