Bernard and the Genie, a 1991 British made-for-television fantasy-comedy, is a Christmas sleeper with an impressive pedigree. The script, written by a young Richard Curtis, is a rollicking tale of good versus evil delivered by an impressive cast of comedians including Lenny Henry, Rowan Atkinson and Alan Cumming.
The opening scene takes place 2,000 years ago in an era of vengeful sorcerers, evil spells and, confusingly, Jesus of Nazareth. Bethlehem circa AD30 is not the kind of place you would normally associate with magic lamps and flying carpets but, if it’s cinéma vérité you’re after, this is not the film for you.
A wizard’s curse on man-mountain Josephus (Henry) transforms him into a tiny genie who must remain in a magic lamp for eternity. Or at least until a heartbroken Bernard Bottle (Cumming) finds the lamp, his last remaining possession after his two-timing girlfriend has cleared out their apartment and moved in with his best friend.
Earlier that day Bernard, a fledgling art dealer, discovered some priceless works belonging to a couple of naive old ladies. His workmates fete him with flowers, champagne and kisses on his arrival that morning to the accompaniment of a song titled Mr Success, memorable for its classic 90s line “From the shine on his shoe to the star in his eye / If he were a girl he’d be Princess Di.”
To Bernard’s dismay, his honest intentions to compensate the women result not in an expected promotion from his boss, Charles Pinkworth (a superbly waspish Atkinson), but in a direction to get his “philanthropic little arse” out of the gallery.
And so we find an unemployed Bernard at day’s end, stripped of flowers, champagne and worldly possessions, rubbing a lamp with the cuff of his shirt – thus causing it to explode – and winding up in an emergency ward with a bang to the head and one slightly scorched testicle.
On his return to his apartment, he’s greeted by a shadowy presence that turns out to be a sabre-wielding, two-metre-tall genie with murder on his mind.
“Your wish is my command,” snarls the genie. “Beware, oh short one. You smell of peppermint and it is time to die.”
Once Bernard has confirmed that his wish is indeed the genie’s command, they call a truce and introduce themselves. On discovering that Josephus has been in the lamp for 2,000 years, Bernie introduces him to Mozart, Barry White (“What colour is this guy?” asks a besotted Josephus) and Big Macs. And Josephus introduces his diminutive master to his two kittens, fantastic pants and flying carpet rides.
Bernard and the Genie alternates between buddy movie and parable as the two friends discover 1990s London at the height of the festive season, with all its rampant commercialism and material excess.
“Tell me about this Christmas thing,” says Josephus. Bernard begins with the birth of Jesus.
“But I knew this guy!” Josephus exclaims.
He is horrified that such a “wonderful guy” was crucified. Together, he and Bernard decide to right some wrongs and “make some wishes for Big J”. They start with Pinkworth, then move on to Bernard’s ex-girlfriend and her new beau. In between, Bernard grants wishes to children in the Santa queue and a lottery win to the doorman at his apartment block.
Bernard’s final grand gesture is to grant Josephus a wish. In return Josephus gives his friend a surprise gift designed to give Bernard the merriest of Christmases. It works of course – it’s from Richard Curtis, after all.
Bernard and the Genie is dated, the production values are rough and the special effects are laughable. But throw in a cheesy soundtrack that includes Slade’s Merry Xmas Everybody and Bowie’s The Jean Genie and cameo appearances by 90s celebrities including Melvyn Bragg and Bob Geldof and you’ve got yourself a real cracker of a film.
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