Review: Harvey

Elwood P. Dowd has an imaginary friend called 'Harvey', and he's terrifying. Harvey may be pleasant, but Elwood is a man in his thirties, talking to an invisible rabbit, and asking respectable people to also talk with him.

Elwood has the air of someone with an acquired brain-injury. With a mixture of fear and sympathy, people acquiesce when he asks them to 'step aside' for Harvey or tell him if they've seen Harvey lately. They have to make so many adjustments for Elwood's imaginary friend that some begin to adjust reflexively, like a parent leaving out a brandy for Santa Clause after the kids have gone to sleep.

Without any class-awareness, Elwood speaks to 'the help', to judges, and random men he meets in bars without the slightest discernment. He asks all of them to come over for supper, despite having just met them, and everyone says they will out of politeness, but nobody comes.

Despite all this, Elwood feels happy; perhaps because he drinks so much. It's hard to feel sorry for someone who's happy everyone around him feels so miserable.

As the film progresses, Harvey looms larger, feeding on people's belief. He is, after all, a pooka - a Celtic fae spirit, so it makes sense for him to feed from people's dreams. And by the end of the film, you will also come to believe in Harvey, though he never appears on the screen.