Primary navigation

UK/France 1999
Reviewed by Philip Kemp
Our synopses give away the plot in full, including surprise twists.
London, the present. Sam Bell, a commissioning editor at the BBC, and his wife Lucy, a theatrical agent, are happily married. Despite frequent efforts, they remain childless. Sam is under pressure at work from Nigel, the new controller, who's furious that Sam turned down a proposed series from young Scots director Ewan Proclaimer. Lucy becomes attracted to her agency's latest client, actor Carl Phipps.
Sam and Lucy's infertility begins to put a strain on the marriage, so they decide to try IVF. Sam is demoted to children's daytime television. Without telling Lucy, he starts writing a comedy script based on their fertility problems. His colleagues suggest it needs a more feminine angle. Sam secretly lifts passages from Lucy's private diary. The film gets the go-ahead, with Ewan Proclaimer directing.
Two of Lucy's eggs are fertilised, but she aborts. Finding out about the film, she walks out on Sam and starts an affair with Carl. The film is a hit. Meeting Sam again some months later, Lucy tells him the affair is over and she's pregnant by Carl. Sam offers to accept the child as his own and they get back together. The pregnancy proves illusory; they resolve to keep trying.
Given the plot, it was perhaps inevitable that a certain air of smugness should settle over Maybe Baby, Ben Elton's directorial debut - especially during the scenes where people assure the hero Sam what a great film script he's written. Since Sam has pinched almost every word of it from real life, he can look suitably modest. But of course Sam's 'real' life, including his wife's diary from which he's been filching extracts, is all written by Elton. So what we're getting is various Elton characters repeatedly telling each other what a brilliant screenwriter Elton is. Under the circumstances a note of complacency, not to say self-satisfaction, could hardly be avoided.
True, given Elton's own personal experience of both BBC and IVF, this is all very self-referential, if not postmodern. Or would be, were it not for the fact that Maybe Baby remains defiantly old-fashioned throughout. Delete some of the more explicit language, and we could be watching a remake of one of those classic Hollywood 30s marital comedies starring, say, Cary Grant and Irene Dunne. Even the casting carries the same audience-friendly guarantee of a happy ending. Nothing very bad, we can feel sure, is going to happen to a couple played by Hugh Laurie and Joely Richardson.
Within these reassuringly familiar parameters, Elton mostly delivers the goods. Maybe Baby can't quite do poignant, though it tries ("Sad jokes are the best jokes" reflects Sam), but otherwise it pushes most of the right buttons. There are some funny lines, one of the best being Sam's attempt to outbid another harassed guy for a taxi: "I've got a very important meeting," he's told, to which he replies "I've got some sperm up my arse and it's dying." A few of the supporting cameos misfire: Emma Thompson goes way over the top as a ditzy New Ager and Joanna Lumley is wasted as Lucy's lesbian boss. But Tom Hollander enjoys himself as an aggressive Scots wunderkind (shades of Irvine Welsh, perhaps?) planning a comedy series about "a bunch of ordinary kids, all heroin addicts of course, injecting smack into their eyeballs."
The film's satirical thrust is intermittent, and rarely draws too much blood. The BBC, who co-funded the film, comes in for a few nibbling-the-hand-that-feeds-you digs: the producer of an inane Teletubbies-style kids' programme muses "I'm not quite happy with the Furblob family perpetrating an exclusively heterosexual lifestyle," and Sam finds himself presiding over a focus group of bored four-year-olds. Otherwise the jibes are aimed at well-worn targets like nouvelle cuisine restaurants (do they still exist?) or pompous medics (Rowan Atkinson in habitual orotund mode). Maybe Baby's besetting desire to be liked is typified by the odd change that comes over Hollander's character, the Scots film-maker Ewan Proclaimer. Starting out as an abrasive, mouthy individual, loudly contemptuous of soft English middle-class values, he ends up directing an innocuous and very English middle-class comedy. Rather like - come to think of it - Ben Elton.