A humble gardener for all of his life, Chance knows everything of the outside world and human interaction from his real best friend, the television.

New on the DVD shelves this week is a fancified new edition of a film that has so often, as Jesse Scaccia brings up in his blog and film review, made me believe in films again. Being There tells the satirical fable of Chance (played by Peter Sellers), a gardener and middle-aged man-child who has spent his entire life on a rich man’s estate; a simpleton with little-to-no wisdom outside of practical botanical principle; a man who has gleaned all of his behavior from the pampered rich who he encounters and the images he has seen on television. He likes to watch.

When he is forced to venture into the real world of late-’70s DC upon the old man’s passing, Chance is hopelessly adrift–until the clueless political elite bumps into him (literally, with a car). Dressed in aged finery with impeccable manners, his proclamations about gardening are routinely mistaken for profound metaphorical advice on politics and life. Typically, the well-dressed white male idiot rises to a position of great power and influence.

Being There was a career highlight (and retrospective requiem) for two idiosyncratic Hollywood genii. Director Hal Ashby’s career wheezed to a pitiable string of anti-climaxes after this one, and he still doesn’t get mentioned with the same frequency or reverence of his ’70s New Hollywood colleagues. In that decade, however, he contributed an impressive number of gems, including Harold and Maude, The Last Detail and Shampoo. Being There had more magic than all of them.

Peter Sellers filled his roles with virtuoso technique and charisma, as well as a level of commitment that made him peerless. He was the only actor that could go toe-to-toe with Stanley Kubrick and win, particularly in his three distinct roles in Dr. Strangelove. And his iconic Inspector Clouseau in the Pink Panther series still endures through endless sequels and attempted likenesses by less brilliant comic actors. Sellers’ portrayal of Chance is one of the great timeless performances, all the more remarkable for the lack of obscure accent or brutal physical transformation.

Being There could function only as a sharp satirical fantasy, and it gets its shots in at beltway myopia, television, and American culture in general. The inimitable touches of Ashby and Sellers, however, make it quite a bit more–a resonant fable, beautifully shot and edited with a consistently sad tone, mirroring the late-life phase of its most powerful character with a color scheme of chilly autumn. Sellers embodies his hero so thoroughly one can understand his rage at Ashby for including bloopers over the credits…it is disconcerting after such perfection to see the characterization crack. After a thoroughly satisfying body worthy of classic status, Being There closes with a delicate, understated image and profound impact, launching it into the realm of all-time greats.