Thursday, December 07, 2006
Adaptations on the BBC over Christmas (NEWS)
Confirmed BBC TV Christmas schedules state that the adaptation of Phillip Pullman's The Ruby in the Smoke, starring Billie Piper, is due to air on the 27th December at 8.30pm on BBC 1. A new version of children's favourite The Wind in the Willows is also due to air on BBC 1 on New Year's Day. A remake of Bram Stoker's Dracula starring Marc Warren and Sophie Myles is also set to appear on our TV screens during the holiday period, but a definitive time and date is yet to emerge.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Mrs Dalloway a Dud (REVIEW)
REVIEW: MRS DALLOWAY, 1997
Virginia Woolf's Mrs Dalloway is a literary masterpiece, a pioneering example of the literary device known as the stream of consciousness. We traverse the narrative via the thoughts, feelings and ruminations of Woolf's memorable characters; notably Mrs Clarissa Dalloway, a rich politician's wife and hostess; Septimus Warren Smith, a shell-shocked former WWI soldier; and Peter Walsh, a one-time suitor to Mrs Dalloway when they were young, now returned from India amidst a furor of emotional problems. Other minor characters drift through the narrative - Clarissa's husband Richard and their daughter Elizabeth, for example. The action all takes place during one day; a day when Mrs Dalloway decides to host a party, a day when Peter returns to London, a day when poor Septimus, driven to madness by his guilt and fears, commits suicide, rather than succumb to the care of the 'doctors' he has come to fear.
Woolf's novel is a mesmerising literary experience, one I always figured would be extremely difficult to tranlsate to screen, in view of the novel's focus on mental interiority. In this regard I have been proved wrong - and in truth, this should come as no surprise. Visual media has proven repeatedly that it can display and explain multiple states of mind, of being. So in the case of this adaptation, Marlene Gorris's direction does not suffer in this regard - we never struggle to follow the story, the differing consciousnesses of Woolf's characters as their paths inadvertently criss-cross. Instead the film is plagued with an abundance of more mundane problems, suffering for the main part due to a simple lack of suspense and filmic style. Indeed, the direction here is turgid. Character development is dull.
Casting choices are poor too. Vanessa Redgrave has a breathless low-key charisma and a luminous beauty which should have been ideal for the role of Clarissa. But she gives a lifeless performance here. Similarly Rupert Graves is a fine young actor, but is woefully miscast, exuding a natural health and bonhomie in lieu of the pathetic, shambolic, tortured man Septimus has become. Natasha McElhone is better as a younger Clarissa - she certainly matches Redgrave in height and class, but also carries off a gentle innocence. Even better is Lena Headey as a gloriously vibrant and sexy Sally, Clarissa's close friend with whom she shares a tender kiss.
London provides a nicely rendered backdrop, luxuriating in its period setting of 1923. Bourton, Clarissa's country home during her youth, is bucolic, enchanting, marred only by the scowling face of Clarissa's sullen suitor Peter, played with due misery by Alan Cox. Michael Kitchen is an older Peter, though we sense he is no wiser.
This film is a tepid affair, with little to be excited over, and little to hate. Eileen Atkins, a British actress with an extensive CV, and the creator of the UK period drama series The House of Elliot, penned the script here, but it is a stale and unadventurous offering.
Virginia Woolf's Mrs Dalloway is a literary masterpiece, a pioneering example of the literary device known as the stream of consciousness. We traverse the narrative via the thoughts, feelings and ruminations of Woolf's memorable characters; notably Mrs Clarissa Dalloway, a rich politician's wife and hostess; Septimus Warren Smith, a shell-shocked former WWI soldier; and Peter Walsh, a one-time suitor to Mrs Dalloway when they were young, now returned from India amidst a furor of emotional problems. Other minor characters drift through the narrative - Clarissa's husband Richard and their daughter Elizabeth, for example. The action all takes place during one day; a day when Mrs Dalloway decides to host a party, a day when Peter returns to London, a day when poor Septimus, driven to madness by his guilt and fears, commits suicide, rather than succumb to the care of the 'doctors' he has come to fear.
Woolf's novel is a mesmerising literary experience, one I always figured would be extremely difficult to tranlsate to screen, in view of the novel's focus on mental interiority. In this regard I have been proved wrong - and in truth, this should come as no surprise. Visual media has proven repeatedly that it can display and explain multiple states of mind, of being. So in the case of this adaptation, Marlene Gorris's direction does not suffer in this regard - we never struggle to follow the story, the differing consciousnesses of Woolf's characters as their paths inadvertently criss-cross. Instead the film is plagued with an abundance of more mundane problems, suffering for the main part due to a simple lack of suspense and filmic style. Indeed, the direction here is turgid. Character development is dull.
Casting choices are poor too. Vanessa Redgrave has a breathless low-key charisma and a luminous beauty which should have been ideal for the role of Clarissa. But she gives a lifeless performance here. Similarly Rupert Graves is a fine young actor, but is woefully miscast, exuding a natural health and bonhomie in lieu of the pathetic, shambolic, tortured man Septimus has become. Natasha McElhone is better as a younger Clarissa - she certainly matches Redgrave in height and class, but also carries off a gentle innocence. Even better is Lena Headey as a gloriously vibrant and sexy Sally, Clarissa's close friend with whom she shares a tender kiss.
London provides a nicely rendered backdrop, luxuriating in its period setting of 1923. Bourton, Clarissa's country home during her youth, is bucolic, enchanting, marred only by the scowling face of Clarissa's sullen suitor Peter, played with due misery by Alan Cox. Michael Kitchen is an older Peter, though we sense he is no wiser.
This film is a tepid affair, with little to be excited over, and little to hate. Eileen Atkins, a British actress with an extensive CV, and the creator of the UK period drama series The House of Elliot, penned the script here, but it is a stale and unadventurous offering.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Cuaron's Children of Men: A grimly beautiful cinematic feast (REVIEW)
I posted a longer version of this review on my Blog some time ago but with the film's recent launch into the US market I thought an 'edited' revision was timely ....
Alfonso Cuaron's Children of Men, based on the dark and chilling PD James novel, focuses on a tragically apocalyptic world set in 2027. This is a world dogged by a fertility crisis which has meant there has not been a new baby born at all, in over eighteen years. Wars have ravaged the planet, the environment is in a funk from decades of prolonged pollution and mankind is in freefall, offered suicide packs by the government which promise a quiet and painless demise. A totalitarian British government herds all foreigners ('fugees) into concentration camps and multiple terrorist groups seemingly stage bombings for fun.
And yet, miraculously, amidst this angst and mayhem, a young woman, Kee, has fallen pregnant. The story charts Kee's desperate attempt to escape to a new life, accompanied by her protector Theo, one of fiction's unsuspecting heroes - a man who suddenly finds himself at the crossroads of history and rises to the occasion.
I should say for starters that I am a huge fan of Cuaron's work. He directed, in my opinion, the best Harry Potter film so far - by a country mile I might add. His work on Great Expectations and A Little Princess was eye-catching. And Y Tu Mama Tambien was one of my favourite films of 2001. He does not disappoint with Children of Men. Cuaron has an astonishing feel for the cinematic medium. Every single frame is crammed with visual delights. More than most directors he succinctly moves and moulds narrative with cinematographic brilliance and has a talent for deploying colour, or lack of it, when necessary. He genuinely paints a story for us with a magically illustrative visual vocabulary.
Here we are presented with a dank, rain-strewn world; a bleak, grey landscape, scarred by numerous power-stations belching thick smoke. The city streets are dirty, clostraphobic and crowded and buildings are graffiti-ed and fallen into disrepair. After all, what is the point of rebuilding a world which no-one soon will be able to enjoy?
Cuaron has elicited strong acting performances from his cast here. Amongst the minor characters, Michael Caine is simply fantastic as genial hippy Jasper - a real scene-stealer. As indeed is Peter Mullan, an unsung hero of British filmmaking, who takes on the minor rumbustious role of Sid, the corrupt border official. Claire Hope-Ashitey is fine as Kee, the first woman in eighteen years to give birth, (her name is a little too heavyhanded symbolically), and Pam Ferris as her anxious guardian Miriam is passable, but this is not her best work by any means. Julianne Moore is one of Hollywood's greatest actresses but is really rather ordinary here - although her early death is shocking and raw. Chiwetel Ejiofor is always good value but a little under-used here as the idealistic Luke.
However, most eye-catching (and heart-tugging too, if truth be told) is Clive Owen's searing, brave performance as the film's 'hero' Theo - a sourfaced, cynical everyman, who takes it upon himself to escort poor Kee to the sanctity of a ship headed for the much-fabled 'Human Project', a quasi-mythical settlement on the Azores, far away from the grime and misery of mainland Britain. To do so requires a perilous journey, avoiding trigger-happy terrorists and murderous thug-like British police officers. Their journey takes them to 'Bexhill' - a town turned notorious refugee camp, enmired in filth and despair, where a minor civil uprising is being quashed most violently by the authorities.
There is an unmistakeable, probably unavoidable messianic overtone to the piece at times, given the nature of the material. And of course there are blood-sacrifices. We know they're coming. But that doesn't make them any less powerful when they do.
There is alot to love in this film, including random but touching acts of human heroism ... and a lot to worry over. Most affecting, perhaps, was the news that Theo and Julian had lost their young child in 2008 to a flu pandemic - a death that clearly haunted and destroyed their relationship - though probably not their love.
There is a very moving moment when Jasper recounts the sorry story of their loss to Kee and Miriam - not knowing that Theo is in earshot. The camera slowly closes in on Theo's face which is stricken at the memory. Saving Kee and her child thus gives him a second chance to save a child when he could not save his own.
This is one of the best films of 2006. It confirms, yet again, Cuaron as one of the supreme directing talents working today. I rather doubt Children of Men will garner much Oscars attention - it's a little too dystopic and bleak perhaps - but Cuaron deserves recognition.
Alfonso Cuaron's Children of Men, based on the dark and chilling PD James novel, focuses on a tragically apocalyptic world set in 2027. This is a world dogged by a fertility crisis which has meant there has not been a new baby born at all, in over eighteen years. Wars have ravaged the planet, the environment is in a funk from decades of prolonged pollution and mankind is in freefall, offered suicide packs by the government which promise a quiet and painless demise. A totalitarian British government herds all foreigners ('fugees) into concentration camps and multiple terrorist groups seemingly stage bombings for fun.
And yet, miraculously, amidst this angst and mayhem, a young woman, Kee, has fallen pregnant. The story charts Kee's desperate attempt to escape to a new life, accompanied by her protector Theo, one of fiction's unsuspecting heroes - a man who suddenly finds himself at the crossroads of history and rises to the occasion.
I should say for starters that I am a huge fan of Cuaron's work. He directed, in my opinion, the best Harry Potter film so far - by a country mile I might add. His work on Great Expectations and A Little Princess was eye-catching. And Y Tu Mama Tambien was one of my favourite films of 2001. He does not disappoint with Children of Men. Cuaron has an astonishing feel for the cinematic medium. Every single frame is crammed with visual delights. More than most directors he succinctly moves and moulds narrative with cinematographic brilliance and has a talent for deploying colour, or lack of it, when necessary. He genuinely paints a story for us with a magically illustrative visual vocabulary.
Here we are presented with a dank, rain-strewn world; a bleak, grey landscape, scarred by numerous power-stations belching thick smoke. The city streets are dirty, clostraphobic and crowded and buildings are graffiti-ed and fallen into disrepair. After all, what is the point of rebuilding a world which no-one soon will be able to enjoy?
Cuaron has elicited strong acting performances from his cast here. Amongst the minor characters, Michael Caine is simply fantastic as genial hippy Jasper - a real scene-stealer. As indeed is Peter Mullan, an unsung hero of British filmmaking, who takes on the minor rumbustious role of Sid, the corrupt border official. Claire Hope-Ashitey is fine as Kee, the first woman in eighteen years to give birth, (her name is a little too heavyhanded symbolically), and Pam Ferris as her anxious guardian Miriam is passable, but this is not her best work by any means. Julianne Moore is one of Hollywood's greatest actresses but is really rather ordinary here - although her early death is shocking and raw. Chiwetel Ejiofor is always good value but a little under-used here as the idealistic Luke.
However, most eye-catching (and heart-tugging too, if truth be told) is Clive Owen's searing, brave performance as the film's 'hero' Theo - a sourfaced, cynical everyman, who takes it upon himself to escort poor Kee to the sanctity of a ship headed for the much-fabled 'Human Project', a quasi-mythical settlement on the Azores, far away from the grime and misery of mainland Britain. To do so requires a perilous journey, avoiding trigger-happy terrorists and murderous thug-like British police officers. Their journey takes them to 'Bexhill' - a town turned notorious refugee camp, enmired in filth and despair, where a minor civil uprising is being quashed most violently by the authorities.
There is an unmistakeable, probably unavoidable messianic overtone to the piece at times, given the nature of the material. And of course there are blood-sacrifices. We know they're coming. But that doesn't make them any less powerful when they do.
There is alot to love in this film, including random but touching acts of human heroism ... and a lot to worry over. Most affecting, perhaps, was the news that Theo and Julian had lost their young child in 2008 to a flu pandemic - a death that clearly haunted and destroyed their relationship - though probably not their love.
There is a very moving moment when Jasper recounts the sorry story of their loss to Kee and Miriam - not knowing that Theo is in earshot. The camera slowly closes in on Theo's face which is stricken at the memory. Saving Kee and her child thus gives him a second chance to save a child when he could not save his own.
This is one of the best films of 2006. It confirms, yet again, Cuaron as one of the supreme directing talents working today. I rather doubt Children of Men will garner much Oscars attention - it's a little too dystopic and bleak perhaps - but Cuaron deserves recognition.
Bond's no Bourne ... problem is, Bond's not Bond either (REVIEW)
REVIEW: CASINO ROYALE, IAN FLEMING, 2006
The latest Bond outing, Casino Royale, starring Daniel Craig in the leading role, is over-hyped rubbish. Sorry. I know it has plentiful fans and appears to have garnered critical support too, but I was thoroughly unimpressed, and even a little depressed, by the whole experience.
Let's be upfront about this: I had high hopes for this film. I really wanted Craig to succeed as the new Bond. And after the crashing disappointment which was Die Another Day, the last Brosnan Bond pic, with its absurd invisible car and cut-price CGi, I couldn't see any other direction for the franchise to go, but up. How wrong I was.
The key problem, as far as I can tell is this: the Bourne franchise, with Matt Damon as the super-cool tough guy Jason Bourne, fighting against the worst excesses of the US secret services, has knocked Bond for six. The dark, gritty froideur of Bourne and the imaginative direction from first Doug Liman and then Paul Greengrass (one of our very best directors working today in my opinion) ensured Bond looked kitsch and laboured in comparison. Bond producers were rightly concerned. Their solution, it seemed, was to emulate the success of Bourne. Big mistake!
Bond and Bourne are based on entirely different premises. James Bond is an insider, he works for Mi6, and according to Fleming, Bond's originator, Bond is Eton-educated, a man born out of British imperialist traditions. (Although in this new version of Casino Royale, it is hammered home that the new Bond is strictly State-school).Jason Bourne is an outsider of uncertain origin. He is a CIA-trained killing machine who is now intent on recovering his identity - the identity they stole from him. Thus, however maverick or disobedient he may be, Bond is ultimately on government pay, whereas Bourne is a social outcast, unearthing the dark and sinister secrets underpinning the State - and are the primary source of the best paranoid conspiracy theories, which epitomise the uncertain, fearful world we live in today. From this point of view, Bond is pretty much stuffed.
Casino Royale is even further hampered by the producers' inability to string together a decent plot-line. Yes, yes, we know this is now post 9/11 ... Judi Dench's M tells us this in the starkest terms possible. But this has little effect on plot detail it seems. Even the rise of extremist Islamic terrorism hasn't informed the new look Bond, in spite of being viewed world over as the major terrorist force of our times. This is remarkable when one considers how terrorism is not shied away from in similar spy franchises. Take the BBC's impressive Spooks for example: in Series Five the Mi5 crew tackled Islamic terrorists, radical Christian terrorists, pro-environmental terrorists, Mossad (twice), a genocidal African leader, a Serbian Mi6 plant and foiled an ultra-right corporate coup of the British government.
So what do we get with Casino Royale? A muddled narrative which focuses on financial fraud - namely fixing stock prices by means of sponsoring terrorist actions. Which terrorists? Well, we never learn this vital piece of information.
Our 'Bond Villain' is the money-man for these unnamed forces of evil - played here by Mads Mikkelson, complete with a creepy bleeding tear-duct and a Ventolin inhaler - who has lost $150m and needs to recoup it in a poker game, staged at a luxury hotel in Montenegro. Wow whoopee .... edge of the seat stuff ... I was almost crying with boredom. The plot revolved, seemingly, around this $150m, and Bond's sharpest card-playing tactics to prevent it falling into the wrong hands. Now I hate to be flippant - but let's face it, $150m is diddly-squat in the arena of global terrorism and the 'war' on terror.
OK, so we have a poor storyline - but can the direction, the character development, the action sequences at least ensure an entertaining, gripping ride of a movie? Can it heck! Casino Royale lacked suspense, lacked passion, lacked interest. Well, to be fair. The opening scenes, Bond's first kills, were fantastic. And then there was an exciting high wire crane-chase with Bond hunting down a bomb-maker in Madagascar. All good stuff.
But it went dramatically downhill from there.
We had a mildly riveting action sequence at Miami airport with Bond trying to save a new Skyfleet super-plane from being blown up by the bad guys. And then Bond was dispatched to Montenegro and the interminable poker game at the heart of the film, which was punctuated, mercifully, by an occasional welcome bout of unbridled violence.
This casino equence culminated in a much-hyped torture scene which was a bit of a snore really, and then there was an endless coda in Venice, when Bond discovers the true perfidy of Vesper Lynd, the slink Missy he has fallen for. Vesper Lynd was played by the stylish French actress Eva Green, whose plummy British vowels sounded like she was gobbling clumps of broken china and had a bad cold to boot, poor dear. Her natural good looks were swamped by swathes of makeup, lashings of thick black kohl, as though she was auditioning for a role as vampish temptress in a 1950s Film Noir. I was wholly unmoved by the Bond/Lynd romance.
As for Bond himself. This was the million dollar question. Could Daniel Craig overcome his critics? In a word, no ... Except, yes. The critics have positively wet themselves with surprised glee, admiration and probably contrition at Craig's Bond. This universal acclaim has declared him to be the best Bond since Connery. How can this be??
I seriously wonder if I am living on an alternative planet ... Craig's Bond was mediocre, at best (and believe me, I so, so wanted this to work and was pretty cheesed-off at the whiny media Craig-bashing pre-Casino Royale). His primary facial expression was a strangely screwed-up, pursed-lip 'thing' which riled me throughout. His voice is, well, deep, male ... but almost entirely flat and toneless. The man, as depicted here, is devoid of personal charisma. Worst of all, he is humourless.
OK so we know the famous Bond 'quips' were a non-starter in this all-new, oh-so-serious Bond ... well Bond producers, scriptwriters et al, get over yourselves! We need a Bond with a 'twinkle' - even while dispatching the villains with calculated, sociopathic violence. Bond's wit is an essential ingredient of 'BOND'. Jason Bourne, of course, does not need to be funny. That is not his style, which is born out of anguish, pain, a sense of loss. But then again, this is not Bourne. I'll just repeat that. THIS IS NOT BOURNE.
Craig, in fairness, was given precious little to work with. He is a very fine actor. I would never dispute that. But in Casino Royale, the script is risible. During the interminable poker-game we actually get 'commentary' from one of the secondary characters, Mathis (Giancarlo Gianninni). And still, the game doesn't make sense.
On the plus side, the locations are magnificent. Montenegro is a combination here of the Czech Republic and Italy's spectacular Lake Como, and the Bahamas look fabulous. As a deluxe tourist brochure Casino Royale is at its very best.
In sum this is a disappointing film. I am now extremely disheartened and alarmed for the future of the Bond series. I realise my take on this film is completely out of step with the general concensus, but I strongly suspect that there will be more naysayers over time, once the dust has settled and the film hits renewed scrutiny when the DVD is released.
I was surprised to see that Martin Campbell had directed this film so very poorly - I loved his Goldeneye. That film was outlandish, silly, replete with some remarkably hammy acting, (yes, I'm speaking of Sean Bean), but boy, was it thrilling! And it had characters we cared about (Izabella Scorupco as Natalya), laughed at (Alan Cummings as Boris, Robbie Coltrane as Zukovosky) and loved to hate (Famke Janssen as the inimitable thigh-crusher assassin Xenia Onatopp). And how ridiculous but cool was it to see Pierce Brosnan driving that huge great tank through the streets of St Petersburg?
But this seems far too much like good, old-fashioned audience-pleasing fun for the new look po-faced Bond.
The latest Bond outing, Casino Royale, starring Daniel Craig in the leading role, is over-hyped rubbish. Sorry. I know it has plentiful fans and appears to have garnered critical support too, but I was thoroughly unimpressed, and even a little depressed, by the whole experience.
Let's be upfront about this: I had high hopes for this film. I really wanted Craig to succeed as the new Bond. And after the crashing disappointment which was Die Another Day, the last Brosnan Bond pic, with its absurd invisible car and cut-price CGi, I couldn't see any other direction for the franchise to go, but up. How wrong I was.
The key problem, as far as I can tell is this: the Bourne franchise, with Matt Damon as the super-cool tough guy Jason Bourne, fighting against the worst excesses of the US secret services, has knocked Bond for six. The dark, gritty froideur of Bourne and the imaginative direction from first Doug Liman and then Paul Greengrass (one of our very best directors working today in my opinion) ensured Bond looked kitsch and laboured in comparison. Bond producers were rightly concerned. Their solution, it seemed, was to emulate the success of Bourne. Big mistake!
Bond and Bourne are based on entirely different premises. James Bond is an insider, he works for Mi6, and according to Fleming, Bond's originator, Bond is Eton-educated, a man born out of British imperialist traditions. (Although in this new version of Casino Royale, it is hammered home that the new Bond is strictly State-school).Jason Bourne is an outsider of uncertain origin. He is a CIA-trained killing machine who is now intent on recovering his identity - the identity they stole from him. Thus, however maverick or disobedient he may be, Bond is ultimately on government pay, whereas Bourne is a social outcast, unearthing the dark and sinister secrets underpinning the State - and are the primary source of the best paranoid conspiracy theories, which epitomise the uncertain, fearful world we live in today. From this point of view, Bond is pretty much stuffed.
Casino Royale is even further hampered by the producers' inability to string together a decent plot-line. Yes, yes, we know this is now post 9/11 ... Judi Dench's M tells us this in the starkest terms possible. But this has little effect on plot detail it seems. Even the rise of extremist Islamic terrorism hasn't informed the new look Bond, in spite of being viewed world over as the major terrorist force of our times. This is remarkable when one considers how terrorism is not shied away from in similar spy franchises. Take the BBC's impressive Spooks for example: in Series Five the Mi5 crew tackled Islamic terrorists, radical Christian terrorists, pro-environmental terrorists, Mossad (twice), a genocidal African leader, a Serbian Mi6 plant and foiled an ultra-right corporate coup of the British government.
So what do we get with Casino Royale? A muddled narrative which focuses on financial fraud - namely fixing stock prices by means of sponsoring terrorist actions. Which terrorists? Well, we never learn this vital piece of information.
Our 'Bond Villain' is the money-man for these unnamed forces of evil - played here by Mads Mikkelson, complete with a creepy bleeding tear-duct and a Ventolin inhaler - who has lost $150m and needs to recoup it in a poker game, staged at a luxury hotel in Montenegro. Wow whoopee .... edge of the seat stuff ... I was almost crying with boredom. The plot revolved, seemingly, around this $150m, and Bond's sharpest card-playing tactics to prevent it falling into the wrong hands. Now I hate to be flippant - but let's face it, $150m is diddly-squat in the arena of global terrorism and the 'war' on terror.
OK, so we have a poor storyline - but can the direction, the character development, the action sequences at least ensure an entertaining, gripping ride of a movie? Can it heck! Casino Royale lacked suspense, lacked passion, lacked interest. Well, to be fair. The opening scenes, Bond's first kills, were fantastic. And then there was an exciting high wire crane-chase with Bond hunting down a bomb-maker in Madagascar. All good stuff.
But it went dramatically downhill from there.
We had a mildly riveting action sequence at Miami airport with Bond trying to save a new Skyfleet super-plane from being blown up by the bad guys. And then Bond was dispatched to Montenegro and the interminable poker game at the heart of the film, which was punctuated, mercifully, by an occasional welcome bout of unbridled violence.
This casino equence culminated in a much-hyped torture scene which was a bit of a snore really, and then there was an endless coda in Venice, when Bond discovers the true perfidy of Vesper Lynd, the slink Missy he has fallen for. Vesper Lynd was played by the stylish French actress Eva Green, whose plummy British vowels sounded like she was gobbling clumps of broken china and had a bad cold to boot, poor dear. Her natural good looks were swamped by swathes of makeup, lashings of thick black kohl, as though she was auditioning for a role as vampish temptress in a 1950s Film Noir. I was wholly unmoved by the Bond/Lynd romance.
As for Bond himself. This was the million dollar question. Could Daniel Craig overcome his critics? In a word, no ... Except, yes. The critics have positively wet themselves with surprised glee, admiration and probably contrition at Craig's Bond. This universal acclaim has declared him to be the best Bond since Connery. How can this be??
I seriously wonder if I am living on an alternative planet ... Craig's Bond was mediocre, at best (and believe me, I so, so wanted this to work and was pretty cheesed-off at the whiny media Craig-bashing pre-Casino Royale). His primary facial expression was a strangely screwed-up, pursed-lip 'thing' which riled me throughout. His voice is, well, deep, male ... but almost entirely flat and toneless. The man, as depicted here, is devoid of personal charisma. Worst of all, he is humourless.
OK so we know the famous Bond 'quips' were a non-starter in this all-new, oh-so-serious Bond ... well Bond producers, scriptwriters et al, get over yourselves! We need a Bond with a 'twinkle' - even while dispatching the villains with calculated, sociopathic violence. Bond's wit is an essential ingredient of 'BOND'. Jason Bourne, of course, does not need to be funny. That is not his style, which is born out of anguish, pain, a sense of loss. But then again, this is not Bourne. I'll just repeat that. THIS IS NOT BOURNE.
Craig, in fairness, was given precious little to work with. He is a very fine actor. I would never dispute that. But in Casino Royale, the script is risible. During the interminable poker-game we actually get 'commentary' from one of the secondary characters, Mathis (Giancarlo Gianninni). And still, the game doesn't make sense.
On the plus side, the locations are magnificent. Montenegro is a combination here of the Czech Republic and Italy's spectacular Lake Como, and the Bahamas look fabulous. As a deluxe tourist brochure Casino Royale is at its very best.
In sum this is a disappointing film. I am now extremely disheartened and alarmed for the future of the Bond series. I realise my take on this film is completely out of step with the general concensus, but I strongly suspect that there will be more naysayers over time, once the dust has settled and the film hits renewed scrutiny when the DVD is released.
I was surprised to see that Martin Campbell had directed this film so very poorly - I loved his Goldeneye. That film was outlandish, silly, replete with some remarkably hammy acting, (yes, I'm speaking of Sean Bean), but boy, was it thrilling! And it had characters we cared about (Izabella Scorupco as Natalya), laughed at (Alan Cummings as Boris, Robbie Coltrane as Zukovosky) and loved to hate (Famke Janssen as the inimitable thigh-crusher assassin Xenia Onatopp). And how ridiculous but cool was it to see Pierce Brosnan driving that huge great tank through the streets of St Petersburg?
But this seems far too much like good, old-fashioned audience-pleasing fun for the new look po-faced Bond.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Rupert Everett ups the star factor in his chilly rendition of Sherlock Holmes - (REVIEW)
REVIEW: SHERLOCK HOLMES AND THE CASE OF THE SILK STOCKING, ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE, BBC 1, 2004
Continuing my trawl through past adaptations ....
In 2004 the BBC aired a tele-film, ;">Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Silk Stocking, starring Rupert Everett as the lugubrious detective and Ian Hart as his avuncular sidekick Dr Watson. The production was directed by Simon Cellan Jones with a script from Alan Cubitt.
Overall this is an enjoyable tele-film, although it sadly wilts a little in the closing stages. It's a small wonder this was not re-commissioned, most especially given its sprinkling of genuine stardust through the spindly, handsome form and patrician features of Rupert Everett in the title role. Rupert Everett, to my mind, is one of the UK's best quality celebrity actor exports. The BBC should have coddled him, treasured him, and ensured he signed on for a longer contract than a single tele-film.
His Holmes is tall, angular, slickly feline with a cool demeanour. His pallid complexion and weary, crinkled eyelids denote his perpetual state of ennui - and, more importantly, his drug addiction. This Holmes rarely eats, rarely sleeps ... he is a quasi-mythological being, a thing of the spirits, of darkness, of inner stillness, of strange, unseen fluxes in mood and moment. On the outside he is acid-tongued and bitchy, and, one suspects, misogynistic too. His sometime companion Dr Watson, played here by Ian Hart, is remarkably patient, stoically enduring all sorts of ill-treatment from Holmes, who singlemindedly pursues his detective work with obsessive zeal.
Cellan Jones's London is an evocative place; mysterious, haunting, sinister, wreathed in thick white fog for most of the action. A serial killer stalks, abducts, and kills his prey amidst these murky conditions. His victims are the teenage daughters of the great and good of the land; the aristocracy. And the killer is revealed to be driven by deviant sexual fetishism. His mode of murder is distinctive and telling. He strangles his victims with a silk stocking, having forced the other stocking down the poor girl's gullet. Cellan Jones depicts these abductions with their dire consequences and the effects of the anguish which they understandably engender with assurance and panache.
Similarly effective are the early scenes showing Holmes to regularly haunt the Chinese opium dens of London. This is a cold, grey world, a fuggy dream-state, riddled with uncertainties, fears, paranoid insecurities. The ambience is amplified by the tele-film's hugely effective musical score, which is both thrilling and chilling throughout.
It is unfortunate then that after a lengthy period of atmospheric eeriness, this tele-film eventually falls victim to the rather clunky mechanics of its own plot resolution. Holmes is at his best when acting by instinct, as he creeps cat-like around London's lofty rooftops, tracing his killer's footsteps. But once the police force is involved, once a suspect is found, there is a harsh rupturing of the mood Cellan Jones, and perhaps more crucially, Everett's portrayal of Holmes have skillfully brewed.
Everett's best 'interactions' are with Helen McCrory, one of Britain's finest yet sadly underrated actresses, who plays Watson's American psychoanalyst fiancee. Holmes is determined to be disdainful of her, but succumbs to her stinging wit and powerful intellect. Their exchanges, especially when first meeting, are electric, almost cerebrally 'sexual.'
(Spoilers coming up). The climactic scenes are played out in a candle-lit basement, the murderer's lair, where one young girl Roberta (Perdita Byrne), who has been deliberately deployed as 'bait' by Holmes, has been snatched. However, we have recently discovered a strange and rather incredible twist - Holmes's detection work on this case has seemingly been hampered by the murderer having an identical twin, who covers for his dastardly deeds. Somehow, Holmes informs us, he suspected this all along – although just how, we have no idea, which is the obvious downside to his self-contained, pensive persona. Nor do we get any inkling, any time soon, as the plot rushes full steam ahead to its final denouement, which sadly lacks excitement, as one is instead left ruminating the intricate workings of the plot rather than simply succumbing to the dramatic events unfolding on-screen.
Continuing my trawl through past adaptations ....
In 2004 the BBC aired a tele-film, ;">Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Silk Stocking, starring Rupert Everett as the lugubrious detective and Ian Hart as his avuncular sidekick Dr Watson. The production was directed by Simon Cellan Jones with a script from Alan Cubitt.
Overall this is an enjoyable tele-film, although it sadly wilts a little in the closing stages. It's a small wonder this was not re-commissioned, most especially given its sprinkling of genuine stardust through the spindly, handsome form and patrician features of Rupert Everett in the title role. Rupert Everett, to my mind, is one of the UK's best quality celebrity actor exports. The BBC should have coddled him, treasured him, and ensured he signed on for a longer contract than a single tele-film.
His Holmes is tall, angular, slickly feline with a cool demeanour. His pallid complexion and weary, crinkled eyelids denote his perpetual state of ennui - and, more importantly, his drug addiction. This Holmes rarely eats, rarely sleeps ... he is a quasi-mythological being, a thing of the spirits, of darkness, of inner stillness, of strange, unseen fluxes in mood and moment. On the outside he is acid-tongued and bitchy, and, one suspects, misogynistic too. His sometime companion Dr Watson, played here by Ian Hart, is remarkably patient, stoically enduring all sorts of ill-treatment from Holmes, who singlemindedly pursues his detective work with obsessive zeal.
Cellan Jones's London is an evocative place; mysterious, haunting, sinister, wreathed in thick white fog for most of the action. A serial killer stalks, abducts, and kills his prey amidst these murky conditions. His victims are the teenage daughters of the great and good of the land; the aristocracy. And the killer is revealed to be driven by deviant sexual fetishism. His mode of murder is distinctive and telling. He strangles his victims with a silk stocking, having forced the other stocking down the poor girl's gullet. Cellan Jones depicts these abductions with their dire consequences and the effects of the anguish which they understandably engender with assurance and panache.
Similarly effective are the early scenes showing Holmes to regularly haunt the Chinese opium dens of London. This is a cold, grey world, a fuggy dream-state, riddled with uncertainties, fears, paranoid insecurities. The ambience is amplified by the tele-film's hugely effective musical score, which is both thrilling and chilling throughout.
It is unfortunate then that after a lengthy period of atmospheric eeriness, this tele-film eventually falls victim to the rather clunky mechanics of its own plot resolution. Holmes is at his best when acting by instinct, as he creeps cat-like around London's lofty rooftops, tracing his killer's footsteps. But once the police force is involved, once a suspect is found, there is a harsh rupturing of the mood Cellan Jones, and perhaps more crucially, Everett's portrayal of Holmes have skillfully brewed.
Everett's best 'interactions' are with Helen McCrory, one of Britain's finest yet sadly underrated actresses, who plays Watson's American psychoanalyst fiancee. Holmes is determined to be disdainful of her, but succumbs to her stinging wit and powerful intellect. Their exchanges, especially when first meeting, are electric, almost cerebrally 'sexual.'
(Spoilers coming up). The climactic scenes are played out in a candle-lit basement, the murderer's lair, where one young girl Roberta (Perdita Byrne), who has been deliberately deployed as 'bait' by Holmes, has been snatched. However, we have recently discovered a strange and rather incredible twist - Holmes's detection work on this case has seemingly been hampered by the murderer having an identical twin, who covers for his dastardly deeds. Somehow, Holmes informs us, he suspected this all along – although just how, we have no idea, which is the obvious downside to his self-contained, pensive persona. Nor do we get any inkling, any time soon, as the plot rushes full steam ahead to its final denouement, which sadly lacks excitement, as one is instead left ruminating the intricate workings of the plot rather than simply succumbing to the dramatic events unfolding on-screen.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
ITV to remake Wuthering Heights
ITV's penchant for period drama continues apace with news that Mammoth Productions has been commissioned to make a new three-hour version of Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights for ITV1. Peter Bowker who penned the BBC's Blackpool is the screenwriter and Damien Timmer is the producer. ITV produced Wuthering Heights in 1998, starring Sarah Smart and Robery Kavanah. The new Wuthering Heights is due to broadcast in early 2008. There has not been any casting news as yet, but I can see Rebecca Hall or Hayley Atwell making a great Catherine. Rufus Sewell is probably a little too old now to play Heathcliff - such a shame. He would have been awesome.
Big buzz begins on Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix
The Internet is throbbing with buzz on the new Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix teaser trailer, currently attached to theatrical screenings of Happy Feet (you know, the annoying one with the cutesy dancing penguins) which also debuted online at the Happy Feet website earlier this week. More involving perhaps, has been a HBO preview special with stacks of extra film footage and mini 'star' interviews, which can be accessed via HPANA and Mugglenet. Talking of 'mini' stars, I also had a gander at an E! Special, (again see Mugglenet), which had the E!Online reporter on-set at Leavesden Studios interviewing Daniel Radcliffe. Is it my imagination or is Daniel Radcliffe really, really short? I was kind of shocked when he was mentioned as being seventeen years old, most especially as the reporter, who did not seem unduly big I might add, literally TOWERED over Radcliffe.
Anyway, as to the trailer/footage material ... damn, this looks good. Big on atmospherics, some nicely structured scenes, great sets and I actually like Daniel Radcliffe's super-short haircut, which appears to have ignited an odd degree of controversy I've noted on Harry Potter fan-sites. Oh well.
I am a big fan of David Yates so I expect nothing less than excellent from him. And Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix is Rowling's second best book in my opinion, after Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (which was also the best Harry Potter film to date). I am looking forward to this one, which is due for release next July.
There does not seem to be any news yet on the next Harry Potter director, although the longer we DON'T know, the more likely it seems to me that Yates has, or is very soon, to sign on to direct. As much as I like Yates, I would be disappointed. I really like how each installment in the franchise is a different director's vision.
Anyway, as to the trailer/footage material ... damn, this looks good. Big on atmospherics, some nicely structured scenes, great sets and I actually like Daniel Radcliffe's super-short haircut, which appears to have ignited an odd degree of controversy I've noted on Harry Potter fan-sites. Oh well.
I am a big fan of David Yates so I expect nothing less than excellent from him. And Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix is Rowling's second best book in my opinion, after Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (which was also the best Harry Potter film to date). I am looking forward to this one, which is due for release next July.
There does not seem to be any news yet on the next Harry Potter director, although the longer we DON'T know, the more likely it seems to me that Yates has, or is very soon, to sign on to direct. As much as I like Yates, I would be disappointed. I really like how each installment in the franchise is a different director's vision.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Fingersmith 2005: Victorian potboiler a triumph for the BBC (REVIEW)
REVIEW: FINGERSMITH, SARAH WATERS, BBC, 2005
This weekend I was most impressed with Fingersmith, the 2005 BBC adaptation of Sarah Waters's Victorian drama directed by Aisling Walsh and adapted by Peter Ransley. I didn't see it on the BBC when it first aired so I hired the DVD this weekend. Sally Hawkins and Elaine Cassidy put in excellent performances as Sue Trinder and Maud Lilly respectively, the heroines who fall in love and soon discover that their past, present and future is inextricably linked. Rupert Evans was also a real gem in this production as the charming, chilling and cruel Richard 'Gentleman' Rivers and Charles Dance as Maud's sinister uncle Mr Lilly was good value, as always. Imelda Staunton hammed it up as emotionally over-wrought trickster Mrs Sucksby.
This adaptation benefited from having a truly gripping yarn to tell. There was no slack here; no flabby narrative which could have been trimmed. This was very well-honed throughout. At one point, the narrative is re-told, but from a different character perspective, casting an alternative light on plot proceedings. This was orchestrated well and also proved to be a genuine twisty surprise. It helped in this regard, I guess, that I had never read Fingersmith as a novel - a situation I will be amending, asap.
Locations, sets and costumes - all were serviceable. I particularly enjoyed the compelling scenes set in London. Waters's rendition of London has a strongly Dickensian flavour. This is a city where human misery was plentiful and moral corruption was rife. Waters is meticulous in her historical research, which certainly helps to embellish the plot. Here, the public ceremony and commensurate voracious public interest attached to hanging is highlighted, as is the misogynistic practice of locking away unwanted wives in mental asylums.
The lesbian love-scenes between the two leads attracted a lot of media attention when first aired; much of it lewd and unnecessary. The chemistry between Cassidy and Hawkins is tangible and touching - there is a very real sense that they fall in love, a far cry from some of the more tawdry media comments and reviews at the time. Both are very fine actresses, and I now look forward to seeing Hawkins play Anne Elliott in next year's Persuasion.
Hawkins also starred in Waters's Tipping the Velvet, another BBC adaptation adapted by Andrew Davies in 2002, alongside Rachael Stirling and Keeley Hawes. This drama was also remembered primarily it seemed for its lesbian content, but was another fine BBC period adaptation. However, in terms of plot suspense and gripping narrative, I consider Fingersmith the superior production.
This weekend I was most impressed with Fingersmith, the 2005 BBC adaptation of Sarah Waters's Victorian drama directed by Aisling Walsh and adapted by Peter Ransley. I didn't see it on the BBC when it first aired so I hired the DVD this weekend. Sally Hawkins and Elaine Cassidy put in excellent performances as Sue Trinder and Maud Lilly respectively, the heroines who fall in love and soon discover that their past, present and future is inextricably linked. Rupert Evans was also a real gem in this production as the charming, chilling and cruel Richard 'Gentleman' Rivers and Charles Dance as Maud's sinister uncle Mr Lilly was good value, as always. Imelda Staunton hammed it up as emotionally over-wrought trickster Mrs Sucksby.
This adaptation benefited from having a truly gripping yarn to tell. There was no slack here; no flabby narrative which could have been trimmed. This was very well-honed throughout. At one point, the narrative is re-told, but from a different character perspective, casting an alternative light on plot proceedings. This was orchestrated well and also proved to be a genuine twisty surprise. It helped in this regard, I guess, that I had never read Fingersmith as a novel - a situation I will be amending, asap.
Locations, sets and costumes - all were serviceable. I particularly enjoyed the compelling scenes set in London. Waters's rendition of London has a strongly Dickensian flavour. This is a city where human misery was plentiful and moral corruption was rife. Waters is meticulous in her historical research, which certainly helps to embellish the plot. Here, the public ceremony and commensurate voracious public interest attached to hanging is highlighted, as is the misogynistic practice of locking away unwanted wives in mental asylums.
The lesbian love-scenes between the two leads attracted a lot of media attention when first aired; much of it lewd and unnecessary. The chemistry between Cassidy and Hawkins is tangible and touching - there is a very real sense that they fall in love, a far cry from some of the more tawdry media comments and reviews at the time. Both are very fine actresses, and I now look forward to seeing Hawkins play Anne Elliott in next year's Persuasion.
Hawkins also starred in Waters's Tipping the Velvet, another BBC adaptation adapted by Andrew Davies in 2002, alongside Rachael Stirling and Keeley Hawes. This drama was also remembered primarily it seemed for its lesbian content, but was another fine BBC period adaptation. However, in terms of plot suspense and gripping narrative, I consider Fingersmith the superior production.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
New pics from Persuasion shoot (NEWS)
Austenblog and Hello Magazine are featuring photos taken during the filming of ITV's new production of Persuasion on a wind-swept Cob at Lyme Regis. Rupert Penry Jones looks especially wonderful as Captain Wentworth. I reckon his portrayal of one of Austen's romantic heroes is going to win him a legion of salivating female fans come Spring next year - adding no doubt to his already sizeable fanbase for his exemplary work as Adam in BBC spy series Spooks. I must admit the finale of Series Five last night was less onerous than usual, simply knowing that Rupert would be back on our TV screens in the not too distant future.
Just to add, so far the 'buzz' on these Austen adaptations has mostly focused on Persuasion ... not sure if that is the Rupert factor, but it's possible. Mind you, I expect that once the Billy Piper-in-costume-drama bandwagon gets rolling, there'll be a sharp ramping up of the anticipation factor for Mansfield Park too. This should be sooner rather than later, in view of the 2006 transmission date for her period drama The Ruby in the Smoke, based on the Phillip Pullman novel.
Monday, November 13, 2006
Atonement pics (NEWS)
Keira Knightley fansite walkingindaydreams.com is displaying a portfolio of shots from the Joe Wright-directed adaptation of Ian McEwan's novel Atonement, due to hit cinemas in 2007. The film is set to star Keira Knightley, James McAvoy and Romola Garai.
In other news, Knightley has been reported by Baz Bamigoye in The Daily Mail as wishing to quite the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise, now that she has stopped filmed for Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End, due to premiere May 2007. There has been neither confirmation or denial of this rumour from Disney - unlike Disney's reaction to Internet gossip that co-star Orlando Bloom was set to drop out from any future films in the series.
In other news, Knightley has been reported by Baz Bamigoye in The Daily Mail as wishing to quite the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise, now that she has stopped filmed for Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End, due to premiere May 2007. There has been neither confirmation or denial of this rumour from Disney - unlike Disney's reaction to Internet gossip that co-star Orlando Bloom was set to drop out from any future films in the series.
Trailer whets appetite for The Painted Veil (NEWS)
Nabbed a look at the trailer for the M. Somerset Maugham filmic adaptation of The Painted Veil, starring the luminous Naomi Watts and Edward Norton. This looks good - highly anticipated. To see the trailer, click here. Early screening reviews look promising too.
Firth makes for a 'super-creepy' Austenian hero in Northanger Abbey (REVIEW)
REVIEW: NORTHANGER ABBEY, JANE AUSTEN, BBC, 1986
I had never watched the 1986 BBC adaptation of Austen's Northanger Abbey, so I decided to give it a go last night. I had pretty low expectations to be honest, based on the reactions of some posters on the IMDB message board, which were soon dispelled - at least for the first half hour - after which this adaptation lurched unpleasantly into oddly surreal territory. This was partly due to a horrendous Hammer House of Horror syntho-pop musical score, which constantly thrummed and crescendoed in annoying fashion. But it was also due to an excrutiatingly creepy acting performance from Peter Firth as the romantic lead Henry Tilney.
Now, normally I love Peter Firth, most especially, twenty years on, as Harry in Spooks, the BBC's superb spy series. But I couldn't get on with him at all in this production. For one, he was sporting a nasty, wispy, straw-coloured wig, and the camera kept zooming in on his strangely pale, fleshy lips as he over-enunciated his lines and rolled his rs in full hammy Shakespearean mode. Plus, his characterisation was plain dislikeable - lots of stroking, staring and snidey comments. Of all Jane Austen's romantic heros, Henry Tilney is probably the most in touch with his feminine side, and is also witty and clever to boot. Firth instead played him as acerbic, patronising and super-camp.
The remainder of the Tilney family fared poorly in this production. Henry's sister Eleanor, as played here by Ingrid Lacey, was rendered wooden and stilted and General Tilney (Robert Hardy) was an overblown buffoon, more likely to prompt stifled giggles than inklings of fear from an impressionable young girl.
The wayward, fortune-seeking Thorpe family fared little better. John Thorpe was distinguished by his ludicrous, clownish get-up and seedy leer while his sister Isabella constantly smirked, simpered and smiled to the point where I felt like punching her through the TV screen. A truly ghastly performance.
Katharine Schlesinger is passable as Catherine Morland, the unassuming, naieve heroine, and Googie Withers is convincing as the superficial, fashion-mad Mrs Allen.
The location shots and general mise-en-scene have much to recommend themselves in this production. Specially impressive are the Bath scenes - most particularly the ball-scenes and street scenes, shot at night, where Catherine is able to catch glimpses of revellers preparing for their balls, parties and entertainments. There is a very real sense of excitement engendered through these scene sequences.
Costumes are fine, very much emphasising this as a turn of the century (18th to 19th) production, with most men in breeches and stockings, and cumbersome Georgian wigs still very much the vogue. Ladies' costumes in Bath are ornate and fanciful.
And the hats! Special mention must be made of the hats. Huge, towering, wafting feathers, which never failed to wilt, even during an incongruous public bathing scene, where both men and women, unrealistically, were bathing together, adorned in clinging orange robes - but with hats still sailing aloft. This was one of many bizarre moments in this production - and one of the better ones - certainly in comparison to the Northanger Abbey section of the narrative which verges on the absurd!
But then, this adaptation is riddled with absurdities; some more successful than others. For example, Catherine consistently indulges in extremely bloodthirsty 'damsel in distress' fantasies - the corollary of excessive Gothic novel reading - which are initially an original method to explain the romantic nonsense Catherine has stuffed her head with, but become frankly risible as the narrative progressed further.
Finally a few words on the screenplay from Maggie Wadey, of whom I had fairly high hopes, chiefly based on her work with Edith Wharton's The Buccaneers - and notably she has adapted Austen's Mansfield Park, due to air in 2007. In one respect, Wadey has fared very well to compress the story into a short-ish tele-film, and indeed, one quickly realises how the bare essentials of Austen's narrative are reasonably slight and uncomplicated. In view of this, it is astonishing that this novel has not been more favoured by adaptors to date. Here though, Wadey had often muddied Austen's sparkling dialogue, rendering it clunky and laboured. Plus, there were some bewildering narratological inconsistencies.
For instance, when Catherine meets Isabella Thorpe, she does not seem especially enamoured of her. But lo and behold, the next time they meet (as far as we aware ... there is no hint otherwise, that's for sure), Isabella is embracing Catherine, who is still lying in bed, in a manner which speaks of unbridled and prolonged intimacy. The narrative has speeded up to such an extent and in such a cumbersome manner we are also supposed to believe that Isabella has fallen in love with James Morland - a character we meet only very briefly. There is no building to this moment; no reason it seems for us to care.
By the end of this adaptation of Northanger Abbey I was clock-watching, quite desperate for it to end, even if, as I of course knew would happen, Catherine would become engaged to Firth's 'creepy' Henry Tilney with his air of mild sociopathy. It seemed a sorry fate for such a sweet girl, but by now I didn't care, and virtually applauded when puffy-mouth Firth finally ensnared Catherine with a big, fat kiss.
I had never watched the 1986 BBC adaptation of Austen's Northanger Abbey, so I decided to give it a go last night. I had pretty low expectations to be honest, based on the reactions of some posters on the IMDB message board, which were soon dispelled - at least for the first half hour - after which this adaptation lurched unpleasantly into oddly surreal territory. This was partly due to a horrendous Hammer House of Horror syntho-pop musical score, which constantly thrummed and crescendoed in annoying fashion. But it was also due to an excrutiatingly creepy acting performance from Peter Firth as the romantic lead Henry Tilney.
Now, normally I love Peter Firth, most especially, twenty years on, as Harry in Spooks, the BBC's superb spy series. But I couldn't get on with him at all in this production. For one, he was sporting a nasty, wispy, straw-coloured wig, and the camera kept zooming in on his strangely pale, fleshy lips as he over-enunciated his lines and rolled his rs in full hammy Shakespearean mode. Plus, his characterisation was plain dislikeable - lots of stroking, staring and snidey comments. Of all Jane Austen's romantic heros, Henry Tilney is probably the most in touch with his feminine side, and is also witty and clever to boot. Firth instead played him as acerbic, patronising and super-camp.
The remainder of the Tilney family fared poorly in this production. Henry's sister Eleanor, as played here by Ingrid Lacey, was rendered wooden and stilted and General Tilney (Robert Hardy) was an overblown buffoon, more likely to prompt stifled giggles than inklings of fear from an impressionable young girl.
The wayward, fortune-seeking Thorpe family fared little better. John Thorpe was distinguished by his ludicrous, clownish get-up and seedy leer while his sister Isabella constantly smirked, simpered and smiled to the point where I felt like punching her through the TV screen. A truly ghastly performance.
Katharine Schlesinger is passable as Catherine Morland, the unassuming, naieve heroine, and Googie Withers is convincing as the superficial, fashion-mad Mrs Allen.
The location shots and general mise-en-scene have much to recommend themselves in this production. Specially impressive are the Bath scenes - most particularly the ball-scenes and street scenes, shot at night, where Catherine is able to catch glimpses of revellers preparing for their balls, parties and entertainments. There is a very real sense of excitement engendered through these scene sequences.
Costumes are fine, very much emphasising this as a turn of the century (18th to 19th) production, with most men in breeches and stockings, and cumbersome Georgian wigs still very much the vogue. Ladies' costumes in Bath are ornate and fanciful.
And the hats! Special mention must be made of the hats. Huge, towering, wafting feathers, which never failed to wilt, even during an incongruous public bathing scene, where both men and women, unrealistically, were bathing together, adorned in clinging orange robes - but with hats still sailing aloft. This was one of many bizarre moments in this production - and one of the better ones - certainly in comparison to the Northanger Abbey section of the narrative which verges on the absurd!
But then, this adaptation is riddled with absurdities; some more successful than others. For example, Catherine consistently indulges in extremely bloodthirsty 'damsel in distress' fantasies - the corollary of excessive Gothic novel reading - which are initially an original method to explain the romantic nonsense Catherine has stuffed her head with, but become frankly risible as the narrative progressed further.
Finally a few words on the screenplay from Maggie Wadey, of whom I had fairly high hopes, chiefly based on her work with Edith Wharton's The Buccaneers - and notably she has adapted Austen's Mansfield Park, due to air in 2007. In one respect, Wadey has fared very well to compress the story into a short-ish tele-film, and indeed, one quickly realises how the bare essentials of Austen's narrative are reasonably slight and uncomplicated. In view of this, it is astonishing that this novel has not been more favoured by adaptors to date. Here though, Wadey had often muddied Austen's sparkling dialogue, rendering it clunky and laboured. Plus, there were some bewildering narratological inconsistencies.
For instance, when Catherine meets Isabella Thorpe, she does not seem especially enamoured of her. But lo and behold, the next time they meet (as far as we aware ... there is no hint otherwise, that's for sure), Isabella is embracing Catherine, who is still lying in bed, in a manner which speaks of unbridled and prolonged intimacy. The narrative has speeded up to such an extent and in such a cumbersome manner we are also supposed to believe that Isabella has fallen in love with James Morland - a character we meet only very briefly. There is no building to this moment; no reason it seems for us to care.
By the end of this adaptation of Northanger Abbey I was clock-watching, quite desperate for it to end, even if, as I of course knew would happen, Catherine would become engaged to Firth's 'creepy' Henry Tilney with his air of mild sociopathy. It seemed a sorry fate for such a sweet girl, but by now I didn't care, and virtually applauded when puffy-mouth Firth finally ensnared Catherine with a big, fat kiss.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Hoffman NOT directing Harry Potter (NEWS)
Mugglenet is reporting that Michael Hoffman is absolutely NOT in the running to become the next Harry Potter director, as confirmed by Warner Bros. So we are none the wiser - but all will be revealed apparently by Christmas.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Del Toro's absence a pity for Potter (EDITORIAL)
Wow. Saw the trailer for Pan's Labyrinth, Guillermo del Toro's latest picture. Such a shame he turned down an offer to direct the next Harry Potter movie. He would be ideal. Mind you, in my opinion, the next film in the Potter franchise, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, has the worst source material to work from - although a good director could perhaps render this a far better experience than the overblown, baggy monster which is the novel.
Shooting underway for The Jane Austen Book Club (NEWS)
Joy Fowler's The Jane Austen Book Club has been greenlighted and is currently filming in Los Angeles. The novel, which charts the personal lives of a small gathering of Californian Jane Austen fans who meet regularly to discuss the author and her works , is set to be adapted to screen by Robin Swicord, who is also due to direct. Swicord penned the script for the 1994 adaptation of Little Women, directed by Gillian Armstrong, Dahl's Matilda in 1996 and more recently, Arthur Golden's Memoirs of a Geisha in 2005. Maria Bello, Emily Blunt, Hugh Dancy, Lynn Redgrave, Jimmy Smits and Kathy Baker are set to star. Swicord seems a fair choice for this material which was one of the dreariest novels I have read for some years - and as I have been less than impressed with much of Swicord's work to date, (possibly excepting Matilda), I can feel fairly certain this far out that here is a film I will be keen to avoid when it finally hits our cinema screens next year.
Radio Times previews ITVs Austen season (NEWS)
The Radio Times is offering a sneak preview of ITV's Austen's season, due to air in Feb/March 2007. Scans of the article are available at Austenblog. From the pictures featured in the article I must say Billie Piper looks a great Fanny Price, but it's difficult to see how Mansfield Park has been filmed ENTIRELY on location at Newby Hall in Yorkshire, as claimed. How would Fanny's scenes in Portsmouth be recreated? Also there is a photo which lists Joseph 'Mangan' as William Price, but this seems to be a typo; this looks like Joseph 'MORGAN'. I felt pretty sure Morgan would take on the role of Henry Crawford, most particularly as there is no other young male actor listed at IMDB - and surely Henry is a more crucial character than William? Notably there is no mention as yet of actors for Rushworth, Tom Bertram or any of Fanny's family in Portsmouth.
The other photos in the Radio Times preview depict a rain-sodden scene showing Sally Hawkins as Anne Elliott in Persuasion speaking with Rupert Penry-Jones as Wentworth on Bath's famous Royal Crescent. She is clutching a letter (presumably the letter Wentworth writes for her, recounting his renewed love for her) which indicates perhaps that this scene is close to the end of the tele-film; perhaps even the moment of romantic resolution.
There is also a scene from Northanger Abbey with young Catherine Morland (Felicity Jones) aboard a carriage with John Thorpe (William Beck). The article wrongly claims the young man beside her is in fact James Morland (Hugh O'Conor).
As an ardent Austen fan, and with something of a keen academic interest in Austen adaptations, I am very excited about this upcoming season. All new adaptations are welcome, and I genuinely cannot fathom the reluctance of a clutchful of Austen fans to embrace new versions of her work - the IMDB mesage boards bear plentiful witness to this mood. Personally speaking, my most-anticipated Austen tele-film will be Northanger Abbey, as I have never seen this committed to screen, having missed out on the 1986 TV adaptation with Peter Firth.
I loved the 1995 BBC tele-film of Persuasion, more so it seems than numerous other Austen fans, but never warmed to Ciaran Hinds as Wentworth. I have high hopes for Rupert Penry-Jones, best-known currently as Adam in Spooks, as the latest Captain.
Again, unlike most other Austen fans it seems, based on my regular perusals of online fandom and contact with academic and literary communities, I am one of the very few who positively adored Rozema's 1999 Mansfield Park. I loved her radicalisation of aspects of the novel, fleshing out a range of wider, political discourses with pathos and brio, although perhaps her overall realisation was flawed for reasons too numerous to cite in this brief article (another time!). But Rozema's unique(re)vision, which steadfastly refused to perform as a servile paean to Austen's great novel, was brave and unfairly maligned. I don't expect similar treatment from the ITV production, in part because I have generally found ITV adaptations to be less adventurous even than the BBC, which has such a strong suit in this field it can afford to take risks without alienating its core drama audience or inflicting undue damage on its 'heritage TV' brand values. Even so, I can't wait for the ITV's Austen season to get underway, and Spring 2007 feels a long way off.
The other photos in the Radio Times preview depict a rain-sodden scene showing Sally Hawkins as Anne Elliott in Persuasion speaking with Rupert Penry-Jones as Wentworth on Bath's famous Royal Crescent. She is clutching a letter (presumably the letter Wentworth writes for her, recounting his renewed love for her) which indicates perhaps that this scene is close to the end of the tele-film; perhaps even the moment of romantic resolution.
There is also a scene from Northanger Abbey with young Catherine Morland (Felicity Jones) aboard a carriage with John Thorpe (William Beck). The article wrongly claims the young man beside her is in fact James Morland (Hugh O'Conor).
As an ardent Austen fan, and with something of a keen academic interest in Austen adaptations, I am very excited about this upcoming season. All new adaptations are welcome, and I genuinely cannot fathom the reluctance of a clutchful of Austen fans to embrace new versions of her work - the IMDB mesage boards bear plentiful witness to this mood. Personally speaking, my most-anticipated Austen tele-film will be Northanger Abbey, as I have never seen this committed to screen, having missed out on the 1986 TV adaptation with Peter Firth.
I loved the 1995 BBC tele-film of Persuasion, more so it seems than numerous other Austen fans, but never warmed to Ciaran Hinds as Wentworth. I have high hopes for Rupert Penry-Jones, best-known currently as Adam in Spooks, as the latest Captain.
Again, unlike most other Austen fans it seems, based on my regular perusals of online fandom and contact with academic and literary communities, I am one of the very few who positively adored Rozema's 1999 Mansfield Park. I loved her radicalisation of aspects of the novel, fleshing out a range of wider, political discourses with pathos and brio, although perhaps her overall realisation was flawed for reasons too numerous to cite in this brief article (another time!). But Rozema's unique(re)vision, which steadfastly refused to perform as a servile paean to Austen's great novel, was brave and unfairly maligned. I don't expect similar treatment from the ITV production, in part because I have generally found ITV adaptations to be less adventurous even than the BBC, which has such a strong suit in this field it can afford to take risks without alienating its core drama audience or inflicting undue damage on its 'heritage TV' brand values. Even so, I can't wait for the ITV's Austen season to get underway, and Spring 2007 feels a long way off.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Hoffman to be director for Harry Potter? (NEWS/EDITORIAL)
Dark Horizons is reporting that Warner Brothers is in talks with Michael Hoffman to direct Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince, the sixth film in the Potter franchise. Confirmation of the next Harry Potter director is due before Christmas. Other names in the frame include David Yates, currently filming Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, and former Potter directors Christopher Columbus and Alfonso Cuaron.
Hoffman's former films include One Fine Day, starring George Clooney and Michelle Pffeifer; A Midsummer Night's Dream with a star-studded cast including Kevin Kline, Michelle Pffeifer, Calista Flockhart and Rupert Everett; and an excellent adaptation of Rose Tremain's Restoration, starring Robert Downey Jr. Based on these efforts alone I am sure Hoffman would fare very well directing Potter, although browsing Potter fandom online, there seems to be a great deal of scorn being poured on the idea, largely on the basis that Hoffman is not seen as a 'big' enough name. Instead Peter Jackson is proclaimed by many to be the best possible Potter helmsman.
Personally I couldn't disagree more with this viewpoint. It might be controversial to say this, in view of the exceedingly high esteem Jackson enjoys, but I never rated the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I can admire the hard work, the grandiose effort, the dedication, the special effects (well, some of them) and the sheer panoramic majesty of the enterprise - but, in truth, I felt many other core directorial values were a tad neglected. I thought a lot of the acting performances were hammy beyond belief, literally risible at times, and the narrative flow was sluggish at points. The Return of the King was the greatest offender in my book, with its interminable, sappy ending. And the best film, (and also the least popular by all accounts!), in my view, was The Two Towers.
As for the Potter franchise securing a top-rate director with pretensions to auteur status - no way ... not now at any rate - unless Warner Brothers can tempt Cuaron to return. Cuaron, in my book, was the best of the Potter directors so far, and his Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban is leagues ahead of the other films in terms of quality and style. Cuaron is an excellent filmmaker, and Warner Brothers were lucky to have someone of his calibre stepping in to save the franchise.
Having said that, David Yates, currently filming the fifth Potter film, is himself a burgeoning and impressive talent. His skills have not been tested as yet on the mega-budget scale Harry Potter films usually command, but his works to date, such as The Way We Live Now, The Girl in the Cafe and State of Play suggest he has the ability to carry the job off splendidly.
The simple truth is most directors see the Potter franchise as a cookie cutter system - even though Warner Brothers are forever stressing that directors are allowed an independent take on the novels. Terry Gilliam's recent statement that he would never direct a Potter adaptation, might have smacked a little of sour grapes in view of how he was passed over for the first film in favour of Columbus, despite being author Rowling's number one choice - but he did point out how directing Potter is viewed in the industry, describing it as a 'factory job.' Seemingly then directors keen to preserve their own self-conscious sense of creativity will avoid Potter like the plague - Cuaron excepted of course - so that should rule out other perennial favourites amongst Potter fandom such as Tim Burton, with his wholly unique brand of filmmaking, Quentin Tarantino (as if !), Steven Spielberg (refused to direct the first film), and, Guillermo del Toro, who reportedly rejected an offer from Warner Brothers to helm Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.
Another potential names thrown into the mix is M. Night Shyamalan, famous for The Sixth Sense, Unbreakable, Signs and The Village, who has reportedly expressed an interest in directing Harry Potter. But the lack of critical and audience approval for his latest outest, The Lady in the Water, might well have damaged his chances.
Joss Whedon, best-known for writing and directing the cult TV series Buffy; the short-lived Firefly, which has accrued a vocal and devoted fanbase; and the quirky sci-fi picture Serenity, (based on Firefly), has also suggested himself as director for the final Potter film, to be based on Rowling's seventh and last Potter book - likely to be published in July 2007, according to reports.
Hoffman's former films include One Fine Day, starring George Clooney and Michelle Pffeifer; A Midsummer Night's Dream with a star-studded cast including Kevin Kline, Michelle Pffeifer, Calista Flockhart and Rupert Everett; and an excellent adaptation of Rose Tremain's Restoration, starring Robert Downey Jr. Based on these efforts alone I am sure Hoffman would fare very well directing Potter, although browsing Potter fandom online, there seems to be a great deal of scorn being poured on the idea, largely on the basis that Hoffman is not seen as a 'big' enough name. Instead Peter Jackson is proclaimed by many to be the best possible Potter helmsman.
Personally I couldn't disagree more with this viewpoint. It might be controversial to say this, in view of the exceedingly high esteem Jackson enjoys, but I never rated the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I can admire the hard work, the grandiose effort, the dedication, the special effects (well, some of them) and the sheer panoramic majesty of the enterprise - but, in truth, I felt many other core directorial values were a tad neglected. I thought a lot of the acting performances were hammy beyond belief, literally risible at times, and the narrative flow was sluggish at points. The Return of the King was the greatest offender in my book, with its interminable, sappy ending. And the best film, (and also the least popular by all accounts!), in my view, was The Two Towers.
As for the Potter franchise securing a top-rate director with pretensions to auteur status - no way ... not now at any rate - unless Warner Brothers can tempt Cuaron to return. Cuaron, in my book, was the best of the Potter directors so far, and his Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban is leagues ahead of the other films in terms of quality and style. Cuaron is an excellent filmmaker, and Warner Brothers were lucky to have someone of his calibre stepping in to save the franchise.
Having said that, David Yates, currently filming the fifth Potter film, is himself a burgeoning and impressive talent. His skills have not been tested as yet on the mega-budget scale Harry Potter films usually command, but his works to date, such as The Way We Live Now, The Girl in the Cafe and State of Play suggest he has the ability to carry the job off splendidly.
The simple truth is most directors see the Potter franchise as a cookie cutter system - even though Warner Brothers are forever stressing that directors are allowed an independent take on the novels. Terry Gilliam's recent statement that he would never direct a Potter adaptation, might have smacked a little of sour grapes in view of how he was passed over for the first film in favour of Columbus, despite being author Rowling's number one choice - but he did point out how directing Potter is viewed in the industry, describing it as a 'factory job.' Seemingly then directors keen to preserve their own self-conscious sense of creativity will avoid Potter like the plague - Cuaron excepted of course - so that should rule out other perennial favourites amongst Potter fandom such as Tim Burton, with his wholly unique brand of filmmaking, Quentin Tarantino (as if !), Steven Spielberg (refused to direct the first film), and, Guillermo del Toro, who reportedly rejected an offer from Warner Brothers to helm Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.
Another potential names thrown into the mix is M. Night Shyamalan, famous for The Sixth Sense, Unbreakable, Signs and The Village, who has reportedly expressed an interest in directing Harry Potter. But the lack of critical and audience approval for his latest outest, The Lady in the Water, might well have damaged his chances.
Joss Whedon, best-known for writing and directing the cult TV series Buffy; the short-lived Firefly, which has accrued a vocal and devoted fanbase; and the quirky sci-fi picture Serenity, (based on Firefly), has also suggested himself as director for the final Potter film, to be based on Rowling's seventh and last Potter book - likely to be published in July 2007, according to reports.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
ENO's La Traviata - exceeds expectations (REVIEW)
REVIEW: LA TRAVIATO, VERDI, ENO, 2006
Friday night I went to the Coliseum in London to watch the ENO's new production of Verdi's La Traviata. This timeless tale is one of my favourite operas and I have viewed numerous versions over the years. The pinnacle of all my La Traviata experiences, so far, has been an amazing, deeply moving and strongly sung performance from the Royal Opera House, whilst in exile from Covent Garden during refurbishment, at London's Albert Hall. It was a sparsely furnished production with Elena Kelessidi, mesmerising as Violetta, and Marcelo Alvaros, the famous Argentine tenor, as a buoyant Alfredo.
Friday's outing of La Traviata was a far less scintillating experience, in all departments, but having said that, this production, which was absolutely savaged by London's critics, proved to be enjoyable and competent. Musically there was much to recommend it: Emma Bell's Violetta was confident, expressive and fluent; Dwayne Jones (Alfredo) had a pleasant lyric tenor voice and James Westman as Alfredo's father Germont, was pleasing enough, although perhaps his voice was a little young for the role, while James Darlington conducted the ENO orchestra with bold flair - although, very occasionally the orchestra overwhelmed the singers on stage - notably the close of Act II.
Bell's Violetta was an undeniably strong-willed woman - perhaps even a little too robust for the role - but I enjoyed her brimming self-confidence and felt it all the more powerfully, as a result, when she was reduced to such weakness and lethargy by her illness. Jones's Alfredo, in contrast, was a pudgy dweeb, for whom Violetta clearly felt no attraction in Act I, even while admiring his consistent ardency. However, by Act II, it is clear that his earnest, artless love wins Violetta's heart and in this sense, the production, rather strangely, worked. It was an interesting reading of Verdi's great work, and in fact a more realistic take too, as all too often we have tubby tenors straining and failing to be glamorous, romantic heroes. Jones's Alfredo was therefore almost comically peevish when Violetta leaves him (urged by his father) and he turns up at a party where Violetta is in attendance with her new client/lover The Baron. But again, this somehow worked, as the pent-up nerdy Alfredo seemed even more endangered, more vulnerable, in his innocent rage. The final scene, set in a dilapidated tenement, starkly showed how far Violetta had fallen in fortune, as well as health.
Set design was good, even elegant, and direction, by first-timer Conan Morrison, was competent, if uninspired. However, the foremost factor underpinning this new production, which drew stern criticism, was the moving of La Traviata from nineteenth century Paris to same-era Dublin, during the Irish Famine. Reviewers were at a loss as to why this had been effected - and they have a fair point. Aside from party revellers necking Guinness straight from the bottle, and a backdrop in Act I of St Patrick's cathedral, there was little sign that this was set in Dublin at all. Still, this move did not deserve the outpouring of vitriole reviewers targeted this production with. Indeed, the interval 'buzz' focused largely on how the critics had panned this production out of spite more than reason.
Overall, this was a tale well-told, well-sung and received with affection by an audience who had clearly warmed to this troupe of ENO performers, who sang their hearts out, in defiance of the production's undeserved critical slating.
Friday night I went to the Coliseum in London to watch the ENO's new production of Verdi's La Traviata. This timeless tale is one of my favourite operas and I have viewed numerous versions over the years. The pinnacle of all my La Traviata experiences, so far, has been an amazing, deeply moving and strongly sung performance from the Royal Opera House, whilst in exile from Covent Garden during refurbishment, at London's Albert Hall. It was a sparsely furnished production with Elena Kelessidi, mesmerising as Violetta, and Marcelo Alvaros, the famous Argentine tenor, as a buoyant Alfredo.
Friday's outing of La Traviata was a far less scintillating experience, in all departments, but having said that, this production, which was absolutely savaged by London's critics, proved to be enjoyable and competent. Musically there was much to recommend it: Emma Bell's Violetta was confident, expressive and fluent; Dwayne Jones (Alfredo) had a pleasant lyric tenor voice and James Westman as Alfredo's father Germont, was pleasing enough, although perhaps his voice was a little young for the role, while James Darlington conducted the ENO orchestra with bold flair - although, very occasionally the orchestra overwhelmed the singers on stage - notably the close of Act II.
Bell's Violetta was an undeniably strong-willed woman - perhaps even a little too robust for the role - but I enjoyed her brimming self-confidence and felt it all the more powerfully, as a result, when she was reduced to such weakness and lethargy by her illness. Jones's Alfredo, in contrast, was a pudgy dweeb, for whom Violetta clearly felt no attraction in Act I, even while admiring his consistent ardency. However, by Act II, it is clear that his earnest, artless love wins Violetta's heart and in this sense, the production, rather strangely, worked. It was an interesting reading of Verdi's great work, and in fact a more realistic take too, as all too often we have tubby tenors straining and failing to be glamorous, romantic heroes. Jones's Alfredo was therefore almost comically peevish when Violetta leaves him (urged by his father) and he turns up at a party where Violetta is in attendance with her new client/lover The Baron. But again, this somehow worked, as the pent-up nerdy Alfredo seemed even more endangered, more vulnerable, in his innocent rage. The final scene, set in a dilapidated tenement, starkly showed how far Violetta had fallen in fortune, as well as health.
Set design was good, even elegant, and direction, by first-timer Conan Morrison, was competent, if uninspired. However, the foremost factor underpinning this new production, which drew stern criticism, was the moving of La Traviata from nineteenth century Paris to same-era Dublin, during the Irish Famine. Reviewers were at a loss as to why this had been effected - and they have a fair point. Aside from party revellers necking Guinness straight from the bottle, and a backdrop in Act I of St Patrick's cathedral, there was little sign that this was set in Dublin at all. Still, this move did not deserve the outpouring of vitriole reviewers targeted this production with. Indeed, the interval 'buzz' focused largely on how the critics had panned this production out of spite more than reason.
Overall, this was a tale well-told, well-sung and received with affection by an audience who had clearly warmed to this troupe of ENO performers, who sang their hearts out, in defiance of the production's undeserved critical slating.
UKTV Drama's Classic Books season (NEWS/EDITORIAL)
I have been away for a few days and unfortunately missed Daniel Deronda, which was broadcast on UKTV Drama last night (Saturday), as part of their Classic Books Season. I have seen Daniel Deronda before, and was very impressed with Romola Garai in the role of Gwendolen Harleth - one of my favourite literary (anti)-heroines - and Hugh Dancy as Daniel Deronda. Daniel Deronda is a frustrating, yet brilliant work from George Eliot - and in the TV version, as with the novel, I always find myself rooting for the self-centred but charismatic Gwendolen to win Daniel's heart, instead of saccharine-sweet and godly Mirah (Jodhi May in the TV adaptation). Daniel Deronda was a lavish BBC production, but less successful it seems than most.
So far UKTV Drama's Classic Books Season has featured Moll Flanders (first broadcast on ITV), Middlemarch, Scarlet and Black, and last week, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, which to my mind, was a far better Bronte adaptation (this time, Anne Bronte) than BBC1's recent Jane Eyre. Notably Toby Stephens was the love interest in both adaptations - ten years apart. And again, I warmed more to his fresh, freckle-faced farmer, Gilbert Markham, in The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, than I did his brooding, witty but occasionally strained Rochester, in Jane Eyre.
The final adaptation to feature in UKTV Drama's Classic Book Season will be Austen's Persuasion, first aired in 1995 on BBC1. Having missed much of the season I am hoping these adaptations will soon be repeated.
So far UKTV Drama's Classic Books Season has featured Moll Flanders (first broadcast on ITV), Middlemarch, Scarlet and Black, and last week, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, which to my mind, was a far better Bronte adaptation (this time, Anne Bronte) than BBC1's recent Jane Eyre. Notably Toby Stephens was the love interest in both adaptations - ten years apart. And again, I warmed more to his fresh, freckle-faced farmer, Gilbert Markham, in The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, than I did his brooding, witty but occasionally strained Rochester, in Jane Eyre.
The final adaptation to feature in UKTV Drama's Classic Book Season will be Austen's Persuasion, first aired in 1995 on BBC1. Having missed much of the season I am hoping these adaptations will soon be repeated.
Monday, October 23, 2006
Halo loses its shine (NEWS)
The much-anticipated filmic adaptation of the video game Halo, has been shelved, for now - the direct result of Universal and Fox pulling out of the project. Spiralling costs - rumoured at $145m - are being cited as the key cause for pull-out. Microsoft still hopes to engage the interest of another studio.
Roberts in Eat, Pray, Love (NEWS)
According to The Guardian, Julia Roberts is to star in an adaptation of Elizabeth Gilbert's memoirs, Eat, Pray, Love - the tale of a dissatisfied wife and mother who dramatically ups sticks. Ryan Murphy is to write the script.
Pitt to take lead role in State of Play remake (NEWS)
The BBC mini-series State of Play, a contemporary political drama, is due to be re-made as a film by Universal, with Matthew Carnahan at the helm. Paul Abbott, the series's screenwriter, has revealed in a BBC Radio Five Live interview, that Brad Pitt is being lined up to play Cal McCaffrey, the journalist at the heart of the story. McCaffrey was played in the TV version by John Simm. Bill Nighy won a BAFTA for his role as a newspaper editor. More info available at The Guardian, rumoured to be the inspiration for the newspaper which features prominently in the series.
Rachel McAdams to be The Time Traveller's Wife? (NEWS)
According to reports on Oscarwatch.com, Rachel McAdams is set to take on the role of the time-traveller's wife, from the best-selling novel by the same name, penned by Audrey Niffenegger. Previous rumours had cited Jennifer Aniston in the role.
Friday, October 20, 2006
Bronte buzz set to continue this weekend on the BBC (NEWS)
The BBC is capitalising this weekend on the fervent interest in the Brontes stoked by its recent adaptation of Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre. The broadcaster is transmitting its tele-film version of Jean Rhys's Wide Sargasso Sea this Sunday night, the 22nd October, on BBC1, at 9.00pm. Wide Sargasso Sea was first aired on Monday, October 9th, on the BBC's digital channel BBC 4. For my review, click here.
The 1996 BBC adaptation of Anne Bronte's The Tenant of Wildfell Hall is to be shown on UKTV Drama on Saturday, 21st October, at 8.00pm. This was an interesting production and of course starred Toby Stephens, the latest Mr Rochester, as one of the Brontes's lesser-known heroic lights Gilbert Markham. His co-star was Tara Fitzgerald as Helen Graham/Huntingdon - one of my favourite literary heroines - who played Aunt Reed in Jane Eyre. Notably Pam Ferris, who made for an excellent Grace Poole, plays Mrs Markham in The Tenant.
The 1996 BBC adaptation of Anne Bronte's The Tenant of Wildfell Hall is to be shown on UKTV Drama on Saturday, 21st October, at 8.00pm. This was an interesting production and of course starred Toby Stephens, the latest Mr Rochester, as one of the Brontes's lesser-known heroic lights Gilbert Markham. His co-star was Tara Fitzgerald as Helen Graham/Huntingdon - one of my favourite literary heroines - who played Aunt Reed in Jane Eyre. Notably Pam Ferris, who made for an excellent Grace Poole, plays Mrs Markham in The Tenant.
Monday, October 16, 2006
Catherine Steadman cast in Mansfield Park 2007 NEWS)
IMDB is listing actress Catherine Steadman as Julia Bertram in next year's ITV adaptation of Austen's Mansfield Park. Filming is currently underway.
Just to add, at IMDB there are also some fabulous new photos kindly taken by an extra on the set of Persuasion, filming in Bath. Elsewhere the poster claims this film will be aired on ITV next March ... can't come soon enough!
Just to add, at IMDB there are also some fabulous new photos kindly taken by an extra on the set of Persuasion, filming in Bath. Elsewhere the poster claims this film will be aired on ITV next March ... can't come soon enough!
Review: Jane Eyre, BBC1 - Episode Four
REVIEW: JANE EYRE 4/4, CHARLOTTE BRONTE, BBC 1, 2006
The final episode of the BBC's Jane Eyre was a decidedly mixed bag and rounds off a similarly mixed, though enjoyable series. We have had strong acting performances and lush cinematographic delights but also a stolid, rather uninspiring interpretation of Charlotte Bronte's classic novel and at times, a far from dazzling display of directorial imagination from Susanna White, who promised so much with last year's triumphant Bleak House.
Here White clearly felt it necessary to spice up what is generally perceived to be the dullest passage of events in the novel, at the Rivers household, with a fractured, non-linear narrative, utilising multiple flashbacks, which strive to keep Rochester on-screen for as long as possible without destabilising narrative coherence. Unfortunately the Rochester/Jane chemistry failed to sizzle, despite (and perhaps because of) extraordinarily determined efforts to ramp up their sexual connection. Indeed, there were admittedly a few too many moments in this final episode where my eyes strayed to the remote control and I had to bravely resist the very real attraction of Prime Suspect, the excellent crime drama, which was airing on ITV.
This was not the worst episode of the series. That rather dubious honour falls to the opener, which brushed aside much of Jane's childhood, in its unseemly haste to get to the 'action' - the central romance between Jane and Rochester. After the myriad media and PR articles I've waded through regarding this adaptation, I've come to the conclusion that BBC producers were all too desperate to recreate the famous 'Darcy' effect of 1995's superb (and superior) Pride and Prejudice, positioning Rochester as the ultimate Romantic Hero. To some extent this has worked, judging by comments circulating on the Internet, and indeed an extremely swooning conversation I overheard between three ladies in a restaurant on Saturday, which was bordering on fanatical stalker-mode - Toby Stephens beware! But Colin Firth's crown as king of the 'Classic' romance has not been truly dislodged here - barely even struck a mildly glancing blow, if last night's romantic denouement was anything to go by.
Indeed, the high point of both the series and the central couple's 'chemistry' occured early in Episode Two, soon after Jane rescued Rochester from a potential fiery grave in his own bedchamber. And in truth, the best of the pair has been epitomised by their teasing verbal exchanges, expressing a meeting of minds, rather than those scenes deadset on emphasising their passionate physical proximity. Late in Episode Four, Rochester tells Jane they are not the sort to be 'platonic'. Sorry, but no. Not in this reviewer's opinion at any rate.
And there is evidence a-plenty in this episode where flashbacks, bathed in the unsubtle glow of 'sexy' red light, depict Rochester clumsily astride Jane, muttering sweet nothings while caressing her neck. Frankly I was relieved when these flashbacks faded to the blue-toned reality of Jane's present life with the Rivers. Jane sobs in frustration and grief at losing her past life and love. In this sense, the flashbacks served a purpose in bolstering narrative momentum, but otherwise I found them embarrassing and a little unnecessary (and most certainly not as a point of 'prudishness').
For me the problem was Rochester - well, Toby Stephens - who suddenly, most unexpectedly, struck me as LESS Rochester, and so very, very 'TOBY-ish' with his inimitable talent for super-fine, snarky lip-curling. This was all the more unaccountable, as Toby was far from any lip-curling antics in his current impassioned, loved-up state - and to be fair, this was the first time I had found myself recalling his more intertextual qualities since, well, Episode One - which surely says alot in favour of his portrayal of Rochester for most of the series at any rate.
Less jarring were the flashbacks which depicted Jane's aborted wedding: the bible falling to the ground as the news is broken in church; Jane in her wedding regalia running upstairs at Thornfield leaving a trail of crushed, soft, white petals from her posy; and her departure from Thornfield - although this was slightly marred by her catching sight of the red scarf wafting from a window in the North Tower, which has been deployed as a rather over-done metaphor for Bertha's presence throughout the series. Jane also appeared to emulate aspects of Bertha in this episode, as she too is seen to watch from a lead-latticed window at the Rivers household - perhaps signifying that a marriage to St. John Rivers would be a similar incarceration, a confinement of her free spirit.
Having said that, I thoroughly enjoyed the scenes with the Rivers - far more than the supposed dramatic clinchers featuring Rochester. Having rescued Jane from her destitute, near-death state on bleak, isolated moorland, (a scene mildly reminiscent of the opening of Episode One with a young Jane wandering through a desert), the Rivers family are portrayed here with bustling comfort - apart from St. John, played admirably well here by Andrew Buchan, who is a darker, stiller presence compared to his lively sisters Diana and Mary.
Indeed, Buchan has proved to be one of the stand-out performers of the entire series. St. John's exchanges with Jane make no attempt to 'electrify' and are consequently more natural and realistic in tone, eliciting excellent performances and a heartfelt, friendly repartee from both Buchan and Ruth Wilson (Jane). We have a powerful sense of St. John as a fundamentally good man; a man, who Jane informs him in a forthright manner, 'trembles' when Miss Oliver (who he is in love with) enters the room, while he himself admits that his 'skin may burn with fever' but he is a cold man, controlled by his puritanical zeal to pursue Godly works.
He emerges as a strongly sympathetic character - perhaps more so than Bronte herself intended - and the scene where he informs Jane of her new-found fortune and relations (himself and his sisters) was the best of the entire episode. Jane's unbridled joy is delightful, infectious ... but we never doubt the sagacity of her decision not to marry St. John. This is distinctly unlike the (perhaps) woefully miscast St. John Rivers of the 1997 ITV series of Jane Eyre, where the delectable Rupert Penry-Jones was rejected in favour of a decidedly unappealing Rochester, played here by the usually formidable Ciaran Hinds.
Jane contemplates her decision, her life, her continuing desire for Rochester, atop a precariously high rocky escarpment, set amidst gloriously bleak and wild Derbyshire countryside - a scene strangely reminiscent of a more recent Pride and Prejudice outing, the 2005 film, where Keira Knightley as Elizabeth Bennet stands perilously aloft a vertiginously steep cliff-face, overlooking similar Romanticised scenery, gusting eddies of wind threatening to dash her to her doom at any given moment. Ironically, this scene was often described by critics as a little too Brontean for an Austen adaptation - and yet here we have a definitive Bronte adaptation appearing to emulate an Austen.
Back at Thornfield (her decision made off-screen), we have a disconsolate Jane eyeing a woefully burned pile of ruins and in flashback she is told the sad tale of Bertha's demise and the fire that destroyed Rochester's home. Oddly, given the highly dramatic source material, these scenes are determinedly dull and underwhelming. Bertha, clad in a voluminous white night-gown trails a flaming wedding dress (oh, the symbolism) along a shadowy corridor. Then, half-heartedly pursued by Rochester, whose face is expressive more of mild peevishness than stark panic in spite of the circumstances, she flings herself from the castle battlements. Her descent is matched by the soaring fall, then flight, of a white barn-owl, before the camera reveals her prostrate form on the ground below, arms outstretched, face down. The scene is clunkily-crafted and fails to excite.
Jane is next seen wandering through a misty forest complete with tall, dark trees and vaguely creepy music, but ... all is well. We encounter a pleasant limestone house now occupied by a limping, blind Rochester. Jane brings him a tray of tea-things and then combs his hair, much in the manner of a nursemaid attending to her patient in a retirement home. The effect is stultifying, even chilling, so it is not a surprise when Rochester swiftly and earnestly begs for a wife instead, much to Jane's smirking pleasure.
They embrace, kiss, hold each other, and the camera pans to the fast-flowing river, symbolic (presumably) of the passing of time as we next see them, children in tow, and the Rivers in attendance, preparing a family portrait sitting. They are to be painted amidst an ordered, manicured garden, with a sedate red-brick house, a far cry from the Gothic, ruggedly masculine splendours of Thornfield, serving as a backdrop to their pleasant party. There is a final 'framing' of this parting shot with a slightly tacky floral border - perhaps a heavy-handed symbolic signifier that Jane's 'feminine' has finally exerted control, she has mastered her own narrative, and Rochester has been tamed into Victorian domesticana.
See Reviews of Jane Eyre: Episodes 1, 2 and 3. Also Wide Sargasso Sea.
NOTE - this review is repeated below, without the title, as for some strange and inexplicable reason I have been informed that some readers cannot access this review WITH the title included (??? ... beats me) - so apologies for the 'double' post in this instance. 'Gallivant.'
The final episode of the BBC's Jane Eyre was a decidedly mixed bag and rounds off a similarly mixed, though enjoyable series. We have had strong acting performances and lush cinematographic delights but also a stolid, rather uninspiring interpretation of Charlotte Bronte's classic novel and at times, a far from dazzling display of directorial imagination from Susanna White, who promised so much with last year's triumphant Bleak House.
Here White clearly felt it necessary to spice up what is generally perceived to be the dullest passage of events in the novel, at the Rivers household, with a fractured, non-linear narrative, utilising multiple flashbacks, which strive to keep Rochester on-screen for as long as possible without destabilising narrative coherence. Unfortunately the Rochester/Jane chemistry failed to sizzle, despite (and perhaps because of) extraordinarily determined efforts to ramp up their sexual connection. Indeed, there were admittedly a few too many moments in this final episode where my eyes strayed to the remote control and I had to bravely resist the very real attraction of Prime Suspect, the excellent crime drama, which was airing on ITV.
This was not the worst episode of the series. That rather dubious honour falls to the opener, which brushed aside much of Jane's childhood, in its unseemly haste to get to the 'action' - the central romance between Jane and Rochester. After the myriad media and PR articles I've waded through regarding this adaptation, I've come to the conclusion that BBC producers were all too desperate to recreate the famous 'Darcy' effect of 1995's superb (and superior) Pride and Prejudice, positioning Rochester as the ultimate Romantic Hero. To some extent this has worked, judging by comments circulating on the Internet, and indeed an extremely swooning conversation I overheard between three ladies in a restaurant on Saturday, which was bordering on fanatical stalker-mode - Toby Stephens beware! But Colin Firth's crown as king of the 'Classic' romance has not been truly dislodged here - barely even struck a mildly glancing blow, if last night's romantic denouement was anything to go by.
Indeed, the high point of both the series and the central couple's 'chemistry' occured early in Episode Two, soon after Jane rescued Rochester from a potential fiery grave in his own bedchamber. And in truth, the best of the pair has been epitomised by their teasing verbal exchanges, expressing a meeting of minds, rather than those scenes deadset on emphasising their passionate physical proximity. Late in Episode Four, Rochester tells Jane they are not the sort to be 'platonic'. Sorry, but no. Not in this reviewer's opinion at any rate.
And there is evidence a-plenty in this episode where flashbacks, bathed in the unsubtle glow of 'sexy' red light, depict Rochester clumsily astride Jane, muttering sweet nothings while caressing her neck. Frankly I was relieved when these flashbacks faded to the blue-toned reality of Jane's present life with the Rivers. Jane sobs in frustration and grief at losing her past life and love. In this sense, the flashbacks served a purpose in bolstering narrative momentum, but otherwise I found them embarrassing and a little unnecessary (and most certainly not as a point of 'prudishness').
For me the problem was Rochester - well, Toby Stephens - who suddenly, most unexpectedly, struck me as LESS Rochester, and so very, very 'TOBY-ish' with his inimitable talent for super-fine, snarky lip-curling. This was all the more unaccountable, as Toby was far from any lip-curling antics in his current impassioned, loved-up state - and to be fair, this was the first time I had found myself recalling his more intertextual qualities since, well, Episode One - which surely says alot in favour of his portrayal of Rochester for most of the series at any rate.
Less jarring were the flashbacks which depicted Jane's aborted wedding: the bible falling to the ground as the news is broken in church; Jane in her wedding regalia running upstairs at Thornfield leaving a trail of crushed, soft, white petals from her posy; and her departure from Thornfield - although this was slightly marred by her catching sight of the red scarf wafting from a window in the North Tower, which has been deployed as a rather over-done metaphor for Bertha's presence throughout the series. Jane also appeared to emulate aspects of Bertha in this episode, as she too is seen to watch from a lead-latticed window at the Rivers household - perhaps signifying that a marriage to St. John Rivers would be a similar incarceration, a confinement of her free spirit.
Having said that, I thoroughly enjoyed the scenes with the Rivers - far more than the supposed dramatic clinchers featuring Rochester. Having rescued Jane from her destitute, near-death state on bleak, isolated moorland, (a scene mildly reminiscent of the opening of Episode One with a young Jane wandering through a desert), the Rivers family are portrayed here with bustling comfort - apart from St. John, played admirably well here by Andrew Buchan, who is a darker, stiller presence compared to his lively sisters Diana and Mary.
Indeed, Buchan has proved to be one of the stand-out performers of the entire series. St. John's exchanges with Jane make no attempt to 'electrify' and are consequently more natural and realistic in tone, eliciting excellent performances and a heartfelt, friendly repartee from both Buchan and Ruth Wilson (Jane). We have a powerful sense of St. John as a fundamentally good man; a man, who Jane informs him in a forthright manner, 'trembles' when Miss Oliver (who he is in love with) enters the room, while he himself admits that his 'skin may burn with fever' but he is a cold man, controlled by his puritanical zeal to pursue Godly works.
He emerges as a strongly sympathetic character - perhaps more so than Bronte herself intended - and the scene where he informs Jane of her new-found fortune and relations (himself and his sisters) was the best of the entire episode. Jane's unbridled joy is delightful, infectious ... but we never doubt the sagacity of her decision not to marry St. John. This is distinctly unlike the (perhaps) woefully miscast St. John Rivers of the 1997 ITV series of Jane Eyre, where the delectable Rupert Penry-Jones was rejected in favour of a decidedly unappealing Rochester, played here by the usually formidable Ciaran Hinds.
Jane contemplates her decision, her life, her continuing desire for Rochester, atop a precariously high rocky escarpment, set amidst gloriously bleak and wild Derbyshire countryside - a scene strangely reminiscent of a more recent Pride and Prejudice outing, the 2005 film, where Keira Knightley as Elizabeth Bennet stands perilously aloft a vertiginously steep cliff-face, overlooking similar Romanticised scenery, gusting eddies of wind threatening to dash her to her doom at any given moment. Ironically, this scene was often described by critics as a little too Brontean for an Austen adaptation - and yet here we have a definitive Bronte adaptation appearing to emulate an Austen.
Back at Thornfield (her decision made off-screen), we have a disconsolate Jane eyeing a woefully burned pile of ruins and in flashback she is told the sad tale of Bertha's demise and the fire that destroyed Rochester's home. Oddly, given the highly dramatic source material, these scenes are determinedly dull and underwhelming. Bertha, clad in a voluminous white night-gown trails a flaming wedding dress (oh, the symbolism) along a shadowy corridor. Then, half-heartedly pursued by Rochester, whose face is expressive more of mild peevishness than stark panic in spite of the circumstances, she flings herself from the castle battlements. Her descent is matched by the soaring fall, then flight, of a white barn-owl, before the camera reveals her prostrate form on the ground below, arms outstretched, face down. The scene is clunkily-crafted and fails to excite.
Jane is next seen wandering through a misty forest complete with tall, dark trees and vaguely creepy music, but ... all is well. We encounter a pleasant limestone house now occupied by a limping, blind Rochester. Jane brings him a tray of tea-things and then combs his hair, much in the manner of a nursemaid attending to her patient in a retirement home. The effect is stultifying, even chilling, so it is not a surprise when Rochester swiftly and earnestly begs for a wife instead, much to Jane's smirking pleasure.
They embrace, kiss, hold each other, and the camera pans to the fast-flowing river, symbolic (presumably) of the passing of time as we next see them, children in tow, and the Rivers in attendance, preparing a family portrait sitting. They are to be painted amidst an ordered, manicured garden, with a sedate red-brick house, a far cry from the Gothic, ruggedly masculine splendours of Thornfield, serving as a backdrop to their pleasant party. There is a final 'framing' of this parting shot with a slightly tacky floral border - perhaps a heavy-handed symbolic signifier that Jane's 'feminine' has finally exerted control, she has mastered her own narrative, and Rochester has been tamed into Victorian domesticana.
See Reviews of Jane Eyre: Episodes 1, 2 and 3. Also Wide Sargasso Sea.
NOTE - this review is repeated below, without the title, as for some strange and inexplicable reason I have been informed that some readers cannot access this review WITH the title included (??? ... beats me) - so apologies for the 'double' post in this instance. 'Gallivant.'
The final episode of the BBC's Jane Eyre was a decidedly mixed bag and rounds off a similarly mixed, though enjoyable series. We have had strong acting performances and lush cinematographic delights but also a stolid, rather uninspiring interpretation of Charlotte Bronte's classic novel and at times, a far from dazzling display of directorial imagination from Susanna White, who promised so much with last year's triumphant Bleak House.
Here White clearly felt it necessary to spice up what is generally perceived to be the dullest passage of events in the novel, at the Rivers household, with a fractured, non-linear narrative, utilising multiple flashbacks, which strive to keep Rochester on-screen for as long as possible without destabilising narrative coherence. Unfortunately the Rochester/Jane chemistry failed to sizzle, despite (and perhaps because of) extraordinarily determined efforts to ramp up their sexual connection. Indeed, there were admittedly a few too many moments in this final episode where my eyes strayed to the remote control and I had to bravely resist the very real attraction of Prime Suspect, the excellent crime drama, which was airing on ITV.
This was not the worst episode of the series. That rather dubious honour falls to the opener, which brushed aside much of Jane's childhood, in its unseemly haste to get to the 'action' - the central romance between Jane and Rochester. After the myriad media and PR articles I've waded through regarding this adaptation, I've come to the conclusion that BBC producers were all too desperate to recreate the famous 'Darcy' effect of 1995's superb (and superior) Pride and Prejudice, positioning Rochester as the ultimate Romantic Hero. To some extent this has worked, judging by comments circulating on the Internet, and indeed an extremely swooning conversation I overheard between three ladies in a restaurant on Saturday, which was bordering on fanatical stalker-mode - Toby Stephens beware! But Colin Firth's crown as king of the 'Classic' romance has not been truly dislodged here - barely even struck a mildly glancing blow, if last night's romantic denouement was anything to go by.
Indeed, the high point of both the series and the central couple's 'chemistry' occured early in Episode Two, soon after Jane rescued Rochester from a potential fiery grave in his own bedchamber. And in truth, the best of the pair has been epitomised by their teasing verbal exchanges, expressing a meeting of minds, rather than those scenes deadset on emphasising their passionate physical proximity. Late in Episode Four, Rochester tells Jane they are not the sort to be 'platonic'. Sorry, but no. Not in this reviewer's opinion at any rate.
And there is evidence a-plenty in this episode where flashbacks, bathed in the unsubtle glow of 'sexy' red light, depict Rochester clumsily astride Jane, muttering sweet nothings while caressing her neck. Frankly I was relieved when these flashbacks faded to the blue-toned reality of Jane's present life with the Rivers. Jane sobs in frustration and grief at losing her past life and love. In this sense, the flashbacks served a purpose in bolstering narrative momentum, but otherwise I found them embarrassing and a little unnecessary (and most certainly not as a point of 'prudishness').
For me the problem was Rochester - well, Toby Stephens - who suddenly, most unexpectedly, struck me as LESS Rochester, and so very, very 'TOBY-ish' with his inimitable talent for super-fine, snarky lip-curling. This was all the more unaccountable, as Toby was far from any lip-curling antics in his current impassioned, loved-up state - and to be fair, this was the first time I had found myself recalling his more intertextual qualities since, well, Episode One - which surely says alot in favour of his portrayal of Rochester for most of the series at any rate.
Less jarring were the flashbacks which depicted Jane's aborted wedding: the bible falling to the ground as the news is broken in church; Jane in her wedding regalia running upstairs at Thornfield leaving a trail of crushed, soft, white petals from her posy; and her departure from Thornfield - although this was slightly marred by her catching sight of the red scarf wafting from a window in the North Tower, which has been deployed as a rather over-done metaphor for Bertha's presence throughout the series. Jane also appeared to emulate aspects of Bertha in this episode, as she too is seen to watch from a lead-latticed window at the Rivers household - perhaps signifying that a marriage to St. John Rivers would be a similar incarceration, a confinement of her free spirit.
Having said that, I thoroughly enjoyed the scenes with the Rivers - far more than the supposed dramatic clinchers featuring Rochester. Having rescued Jane from her destitute, near-death state on bleak, isolated moorland, (a scene mildly reminiscent of the opening of Episode One with a young Jane wandering through a desert), the Rivers family are portrayed here with bustling comfort - apart from St. John, played admirably well here by Andrew Buchan, who is a darker, stiller presence compared to his lively sisters Diana and Mary.
Indeed, Buchan has proved to be one of the stand-out performers of the entire series. St. John's exchanges with Jane make no attempt to 'electrify' and are consequently more natural and realistic in tone, eliciting excellent performances and a heartfelt, friendly repartee from both Buchan and Ruth Wilson (Jane). We have a powerful sense of St. John as a fundamentally good man; a man, who Jane informs him in a forthright manner, 'trembles' when Miss Oliver (who he is in love with) enters the room, while he himself admits that his 'skin may burn with fever' but he is a cold man, controlled by his puritanical zeal to pursue Godly works.
He emerges as a strongly sympathetic character - perhaps more so than Bronte herself intended - and the scene where he informs Jane of her new-found fortune and relations (himself and his sisters) was the best of the entire episode. Jane's unbridled joy is delightful, infectious ... but we never doubt the sagacity of her decision not to marry St. John. This is distinctly unlike the (perhaps) woefully miscast St. John Rivers of the 1997 ITV series of Jane Eyre, where the delectable Rupert Penry-Jones was rejected in favour of a decidedly unappealing Rochester, played here by the usually formidable Ciaran Hinds.
Jane contemplates her decision, her life, her continuing desire for Rochester, atop a precariously high rocky escarpment, set amidst gloriously bleak and wild Derbyshire countryside - a scene strangely reminiscent of a more recent Pride and Prejudice outing, the 2005 film, where Keira Knightley as Elizabeth Bennet stands perilously aloft a vertiginously steep cliff-face, overlooking similar Romanticised scenery, gusting eddies of wind threatening to dash her to her doom at any given moment. Ironically, this scene was often described by critics as a little too Brontean for an Austen adaptation - and yet here we have a definitive Bronte adaptation appearing to emulate an Austen.
Back at Thornfield (her decision made off-screen), we have a disconsolate Jane eyeing a woefully burned pile of ruins and in flashback she is told the sad tale of Bertha's demise and the fire that destroyed Rochester's home. Oddly, given the highly dramatic source material, these scenes are determinedly dull and underwhelming. Bertha, clad in a voluminous white night-gown trails a flaming wedding dress (oh, the symbolism) along a shadowy corridor. Then, half-heartedly pursued by Rochester, whose face is expressive more of mild peevishness than stark panic in spite of the circumstances, she flings herself from the castle battlements. Her descent is matched by the soaring fall, then flight, of a white barn-owl, before the camera reveals her prostrate form on the ground below, arms outstretched, face down. The scene is clunkily-crafted and fails to excite.
Jane is next seen wandering through a misty forest complete with tall, dark trees and vaguely creepy music, but ... all is well. We encounter a pleasant limestone house now occupied by a limping, blind Rochester. Jane brings him a tray of tea-things and then combs his hair, much in the manner of a nursemaid attending to her patient in a retirement home. The effect is stultifying, even chilling, so it is not a surprise when Rochester swiftly and earnestly begs for a wife instead, much to Jane's smirking pleasure.
They embrace, kiss, hold each other, and the camera pans to the fast-flowing river, symbolic (presumably) of the passing of time as we next see them, children in tow, and the Rivers in attendance, preparing a family portrait sitting. They are to be painted amidst an ordered, manicured garden, with a sedate red-brick house, a far cry from the Gothic, ruggedly masculine splendours of Thornfield, serving as a backdrop to their pleasant party. There is a final 'framing' of this parting shot with a slightly tacky floral border - perhaps a heavy-handed symbolic signifier that Jane's 'feminine' has finally exerted control, she has mastered her own narrative, and Rochester has been tamed into Victorian domesticana.
See Reviews of Jane Eyre: Episodes 1, 2 and 3. Also Wide Sargasso Sea.
Here White clearly felt it necessary to spice up what is generally perceived to be the dullest passage of events in the novel, at the Rivers household, with a fractured, non-linear narrative, utilising multiple flashbacks, which strive to keep Rochester on-screen for as long as possible without destabilising narrative coherence. Unfortunately the Rochester/Jane chemistry failed to sizzle, despite (and perhaps because of) extraordinarily determined efforts to ramp up their sexual connection. Indeed, there were admittedly a few too many moments in this final episode where my eyes strayed to the remote control and I had to bravely resist the very real attraction of Prime Suspect, the excellent crime drama, which was airing on ITV.
This was not the worst episode of the series. That rather dubious honour falls to the opener, which brushed aside much of Jane's childhood, in its unseemly haste to get to the 'action' - the central romance between Jane and Rochester. After the myriad media and PR articles I've waded through regarding this adaptation, I've come to the conclusion that BBC producers were all too desperate to recreate the famous 'Darcy' effect of 1995's superb (and superior) Pride and Prejudice, positioning Rochester as the ultimate Romantic Hero. To some extent this has worked, judging by comments circulating on the Internet, and indeed an extremely swooning conversation I overheard between three ladies in a restaurant on Saturday, which was bordering on fanatical stalker-mode - Toby Stephens beware! But Colin Firth's crown as king of the 'Classic' romance has not been truly dislodged here - barely even struck a mildly glancing blow, if last night's romantic denouement was anything to go by.
Indeed, the high point of both the series and the central couple's 'chemistry' occured early in Episode Two, soon after Jane rescued Rochester from a potential fiery grave in his own bedchamber. And in truth, the best of the pair has been epitomised by their teasing verbal exchanges, expressing a meeting of minds, rather than those scenes deadset on emphasising their passionate physical proximity. Late in Episode Four, Rochester tells Jane they are not the sort to be 'platonic'. Sorry, but no. Not in this reviewer's opinion at any rate.
And there is evidence a-plenty in this episode where flashbacks, bathed in the unsubtle glow of 'sexy' red light, depict Rochester clumsily astride Jane, muttering sweet nothings while caressing her neck. Frankly I was relieved when these flashbacks faded to the blue-toned reality of Jane's present life with the Rivers. Jane sobs in frustration and grief at losing her past life and love. In this sense, the flashbacks served a purpose in bolstering narrative momentum, but otherwise I found them embarrassing and a little unnecessary (and most certainly not as a point of 'prudishness').
For me the problem was Rochester - well, Toby Stephens - who suddenly, most unexpectedly, struck me as LESS Rochester, and so very, very 'TOBY-ish' with his inimitable talent for super-fine, snarky lip-curling. This was all the more unaccountable, as Toby was far from any lip-curling antics in his current impassioned, loved-up state - and to be fair, this was the first time I had found myself recalling his more intertextual qualities since, well, Episode One - which surely says alot in favour of his portrayal of Rochester for most of the series at any rate.
Less jarring were the flashbacks which depicted Jane's aborted wedding: the bible falling to the ground as the news is broken in church; Jane in her wedding regalia running upstairs at Thornfield leaving a trail of crushed, soft, white petals from her posy; and her departure from Thornfield - although this was slightly marred by her catching sight of the red scarf wafting from a window in the North Tower, which has been deployed as a rather over-done metaphor for Bertha's presence throughout the series. Jane also appeared to emulate aspects of Bertha in this episode, as she too is seen to watch from a lead-latticed window at the Rivers household - perhaps signifying that a marriage to St. John Rivers would be a similar incarceration, a confinement of her free spirit.
Having said that, I thoroughly enjoyed the scenes with the Rivers - far more than the supposed dramatic clinchers featuring Rochester. Having rescued Jane from her destitute, near-death state on bleak, isolated moorland, (a scene mildly reminiscent of the opening of Episode One with a young Jane wandering through a desert), the Rivers family are portrayed here with bustling comfort - apart from St. John, played admirably well here by Andrew Buchan, who is a darker, stiller presence compared to his lively sisters Diana and Mary.
Indeed, Buchan has proved to be one of the stand-out performers of the entire series. St. John's exchanges with Jane make no attempt to 'electrify' and are consequently more natural and realistic in tone, eliciting excellent performances and a heartfelt, friendly repartee from both Buchan and Ruth Wilson (Jane). We have a powerful sense of St. John as a fundamentally good man; a man, who Jane informs him in a forthright manner, 'trembles' when Miss Oliver (who he is in love with) enters the room, while he himself admits that his 'skin may burn with fever' but he is a cold man, controlled by his puritanical zeal to pursue Godly works.
He emerges as a strongly sympathetic character - perhaps more so than Bronte herself intended - and the scene where he informs Jane of her new-found fortune and relations (himself and his sisters) was the best of the entire episode. Jane's unbridled joy is delightful, infectious ... but we never doubt the sagacity of her decision not to marry St. John. This is distinctly unlike the (perhaps) woefully miscast St. John Rivers of the 1997 ITV series of Jane Eyre, where the delectable Rupert Penry-Jones was rejected in favour of a decidedly unappealing Rochester, played here by the usually formidable Ciaran Hinds.
Jane contemplates her decision, her life, her continuing desire for Rochester, atop a precariously high rocky escarpment, set amidst gloriously bleak and wild Derbyshire countryside - a scene strangely reminiscent of a more recent Pride and Prejudice outing, the 2005 film, where Keira Knightley as Elizabeth Bennet stands perilously aloft a vertiginously steep cliff-face, overlooking similar Romanticised scenery, gusting eddies of wind threatening to dash her to her doom at any given moment. Ironically, this scene was often described by critics as a little too Brontean for an Austen adaptation - and yet here we have a definitive Bronte adaptation appearing to emulate an Austen.
Back at Thornfield (her decision made off-screen), we have a disconsolate Jane eyeing a woefully burned pile of ruins and in flashback she is told the sad tale of Bertha's demise and the fire that destroyed Rochester's home. Oddly, given the highly dramatic source material, these scenes are determinedly dull and underwhelming. Bertha, clad in a voluminous white night-gown trails a flaming wedding dress (oh, the symbolism) along a shadowy corridor. Then, half-heartedly pursued by Rochester, whose face is expressive more of mild peevishness than stark panic in spite of the circumstances, she flings herself from the castle battlements. Her descent is matched by the soaring fall, then flight, of a white barn-owl, before the camera reveals her prostrate form on the ground below, arms outstretched, face down. The scene is clunkily-crafted and fails to excite.
Jane is next seen wandering through a misty forest complete with tall, dark trees and vaguely creepy music, but ... all is well. We encounter a pleasant limestone house now occupied by a limping, blind Rochester. Jane brings him a tray of tea-things and then combs his hair, much in the manner of a nursemaid attending to her patient in a retirement home. The effect is stultifying, even chilling, so it is not a surprise when Rochester swiftly and earnestly begs for a wife instead, much to Jane's smirking pleasure.
They embrace, kiss, hold each other, and the camera pans to the fast-flowing river, symbolic (presumably) of the passing of time as we next see them, children in tow, and the Rivers in attendance, preparing a family portrait sitting. They are to be painted amidst an ordered, manicured garden, with a sedate red-brick house, a far cry from the Gothic, ruggedly masculine splendours of Thornfield, serving as a backdrop to their pleasant party. There is a final 'framing' of this parting shot with a slightly tacky floral border - perhaps a heavy-handed symbolic signifier that Jane's 'feminine' has finally exerted control, she has mastered her own narrative, and Rochester has been tamed into Victorian domesticana.
See Reviews of Jane Eyre: Episodes 1, 2 and 3. Also Wide Sargasso Sea.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
On-set photos of 2007 Persuasion (NEWS)
On-set photos have emerged of ITV's 2007 production of Persuasion. The photos depict a market scene at a street in Bath, where the film is being largely produced. A visitor to IMDB, cosmicforces, has posted their shots here. Meanwhile Austenblog reveals more on-set photos, as taken by eyewitness reporter Owen, available here.
Monday, October 09, 2006
That 'nice' Mr Rochester loses his romantic gloss and turns Mr Nasty in BBC4's Wide Sargasso Sea (REVIEW)
REVIEW: WIDE SARGASSO SEA, JEAN RHYS, BBC4, 2006
BBC 4's filmic adaptation of Jean Rhys's Wide Sargasso Sea is an exotic joy, stunningly filmed with glorious, lush production values and strong acting performances all-round. The musical scoring is especially noteworthy - evocative, mood-making, quite brilliant.
The production company behind this venture is Kudos - best-known for the brilliant BBC series Spooks - and there is definitely a contemporary feel to this, even though it is a period piece. The original novel, written in 1966 by Jean Rhys as a prequel to Jane Eyre, charts the story of Antoinette Cosway, (known in Jane Eyre as Bertha Mason), Edward Rochester's first wife - the notorious madwoman in the attic who has become a powerful feminist symbol of female entrapment by patriarchy in the nineteenth century. The novel is part of what is seen in literary circles as the 'writing back' movement, where modern writers are inspired to write their own alternate versions of well-known stories. In this instance, Rhys crafted a work, which resurrected the muted voice of Bertha Mason. Much of the tale is relayed as her first person narrative - although notably Rhys has given Rochester a narratorial voice too.
The novel is seen as an important work in postcolonial studies, exploring the life of a Caribbean White Creole - a woman living on the cusp of society, fully accepted by neither blacks nor whites. Rhys also explored the latent sexism of Charlotte Bronte's work, in that Rochester is granted a second chance - unlike his poor wife. Arguably Jane, while something of a feminist icon herself of course, is perceived as the acceptable face of womanhood - in stark contrast to Bertha, whose unbridled passions set her apart from society, a malignant symbol of non-femininity.
In Wide Sargasso Sea, after a passionate but brief courtship and an initially happy honeymoon, the mood soon sours as Rochester, led on by Antoinette's sinister half-brother, comes to believe that she, like her mother, is mad. Of course his fears are based on his own insecurity as a rather uptight English gentleman, who feels he is out of control, cut adrift on a strange Jamaican plantation, peopled by black servants and talk of magic. He is also distressed at his animal passions - again, a sense of losing control. His subsequent cruel rejection of Antoinette is shown to be the primary reason for her mental 'instability' - a punishment for her ardent, sensuous nature.
We don't miss a beat with this BBC4 adaptation, as scripted by Stephen Greenhorn. Brendan Maher's direction is striking; cinematography is simply stunning, augmented by lingering shots of mountains wreathed in magical blue mist. We have a powerful sense of the enchanted yet uncertain world Rochester feels he has found himself in. Hand-held camera-work and zoom lenses, in addition to some quickfire editing, occasionally intercutting various scenes with each other, subtly perpetuate a sense of uncertainty, with sometimes electrifying results.
Rafe Spall plays Rochester. He is portrayed here as a pretty loathsome character, even from the outset, and Spall, to his credit, carries off this role with some aplomb. Rochester is seen to be self-seeking, suspicious of novelty (he fears Jamaica), posh and sarcastic. A true cold fish. He is not trusted by Antoinette's Aunt Cora (Victoria Hamilton) who warns Antoinette - but she is too much in love.
Her passion for Rochester is evoked through a series of close, intimate scenes - the camera lingering on her graceful neck, his hands resting on her belly, and when they are married, by numerous graphic scenes of their love-making. Antoinette's erotic awakening is key to the tale and enacted with delicacy and charm by Rebecca Hall, who is simply wonderful in this role. She is artless, loving and wholly sympathetic throughout.
This is also a tale of Rochester's erotic awakening - but he is less pleased it seems to give vent to his passionate nature, hence he turns to loveless aggression, in a drive to reassert his self-control. He prefers to view Antoinette's free spirit as lunacy, and is suddenly revolted by her sexuality, deemed so unbecoming in an English gentlewoman. Thus he chooses to torment her by having loud sex with the maidservant Amelie within her earshot. He also decides to change her name to Bertha - a splendid scene where Antoinette loudly, angrily grieves the loss of her name, her sense of self, dismantled at will by her domineering husband in a desperate attempt to exert his control, to tame her.
It is genuinely hard to see any redeeming features in Spall's portrayal of Rochester - which is a fair reading of Rhys's novel, even though Rochester is genuinely paranoid amidst his strange surroundings, but proves unwilling to adapt. In the film, Christophine, Antoinette's nanny, played here by Nina Sosanya in fantastic form, is duly chilling in her obvious distaste for Rochester. Amelie (Lorraine Burroughs) is vile to Antoinette, calling her a 'white cockroach' - a term of abuse for a white creole. Antoinette tells Rochester that she has suffered this and other insults, 'white nigger', all her life ... but he is not interested in her harsh and isolating experiences, adrift on the racial margins of society, and he elects instead to defend Amelie, the aggressor in her confrontation with Antoinette.
There is a pleasing symmetry to this film - the opening scenes depict Antoinette/Bertha wandering the long, dark corridors at Thornfield with a candle in hand, awed by the looming portraits of Rochester's ancestors. She sees Rochester sleeping, and tenderly strokes his hand - a scene intercut with snippets recalling their love-making. The memory torments her. Wild-faced she turns and stares at a painting which depicts Spanish Town in Jamaica ... it is a useful framing device through which we enter the past, taking us to the start of the narrative with Rochester's arrival and his first meeting with Antoinette.
The film closes with Antoinette/Bertha staring at a mirror. Rochester tells her they are going home to where she can be looked after, although she reminds him that the doctors will say whatever he wants them to say. Notably we have had no true sign of Antoinette/Bertha's mental disorder by this stage - simply the genuinely-felt outpourings of a girl haunted by fear of rejection and dark memories, now forsaken by the man she loves, in callous fashion.
She is dressed in black, which is a fitting signifier of the mournful loss of her life, of all she loved, in return for unjust incarceration at the hands of a stranger. He asks her to trust him, to which she replies, 'how can I, when I know nothing about you?' Behind her black hat is a vase of vivid red flowers - a colour used in conjunction with Antoinette, representing her passionate nature, and once much-loved by Rochester who at one point insists she wears a low-cut red dress. Red too are the flames which engulf Thornfield and eventually Antoinette/Bertha as the action returns to the film's beginning. Which is in fact the end.
Since Wide Sargasso Sea was first published, in some ways the novel and its tragic protagonist have come to haunt Jane Eyre - just indeed as Bertha herself is a haunting presence in the original novel. This film is a fine companion piece to the current BBC series of Jane Eyre. Although much smaller in scale and scope than the grander Jane Eyre production, in many respects Wide Sargasso Sea is a piece of finer, stronger, braver filmmaking, offering genuine synergies of cinematography, motifs of light, shade and colour, narrative flow, character development and a lustrous, magnificent musical score. It is conceived as an exquisitely styled miniature rather than a sprawling, luxuriant epic, but both works have the potential to inform the other.
Indeed, it would be hugely interesting (and courageous) to see a Jane Eyre adaptation which was genuinely conceived in the light of Jean Rhys's novel; one which highlighted the postcolonial discourses, the sense of 'Otherness', of life at the margins, which is threaded through both these narratives. It would be gratifying too if this mythical adaptation genuinely, unflinchingly reflected on the sorry plight of so many women in the nineteenth century who were cast out of 'decent' society on sometimes unfounded but convenient grounds of madness. (It is well worth reading Elaine Showalter's The Female Malady for a fascinating insight into the dire extent of this practice). But such a scenario is unlikely, as this would entail debunking the romantic heroism of Rochester and would simultaneously destroy the romantic core of Charlotte Bronte's novel, one of the chief reasons for its persistent popularity ... but it would be an exciting venture, all the same.
For reviews of Jane Eyre : Episode 1, 2 and 3 and 4
BBC 4's filmic adaptation of Jean Rhys's Wide Sargasso Sea is an exotic joy, stunningly filmed with glorious, lush production values and strong acting performances all-round. The musical scoring is especially noteworthy - evocative, mood-making, quite brilliant.
The production company behind this venture is Kudos - best-known for the brilliant BBC series Spooks - and there is definitely a contemporary feel to this, even though it is a period piece. The original novel, written in 1966 by Jean Rhys as a prequel to Jane Eyre, charts the story of Antoinette Cosway, (known in Jane Eyre as Bertha Mason), Edward Rochester's first wife - the notorious madwoman in the attic who has become a powerful feminist symbol of female entrapment by patriarchy in the nineteenth century. The novel is part of what is seen in literary circles as the 'writing back' movement, where modern writers are inspired to write their own alternate versions of well-known stories. In this instance, Rhys crafted a work, which resurrected the muted voice of Bertha Mason. Much of the tale is relayed as her first person narrative - although notably Rhys has given Rochester a narratorial voice too.
The novel is seen as an important work in postcolonial studies, exploring the life of a Caribbean White Creole - a woman living on the cusp of society, fully accepted by neither blacks nor whites. Rhys also explored the latent sexism of Charlotte Bronte's work, in that Rochester is granted a second chance - unlike his poor wife. Arguably Jane, while something of a feminist icon herself of course, is perceived as the acceptable face of womanhood - in stark contrast to Bertha, whose unbridled passions set her apart from society, a malignant symbol of non-femininity.
In Wide Sargasso Sea, after a passionate but brief courtship and an initially happy honeymoon, the mood soon sours as Rochester, led on by Antoinette's sinister half-brother, comes to believe that she, like her mother, is mad. Of course his fears are based on his own insecurity as a rather uptight English gentleman, who feels he is out of control, cut adrift on a strange Jamaican plantation, peopled by black servants and talk of magic. He is also distressed at his animal passions - again, a sense of losing control. His subsequent cruel rejection of Antoinette is shown to be the primary reason for her mental 'instability' - a punishment for her ardent, sensuous nature.
We don't miss a beat with this BBC4 adaptation, as scripted by Stephen Greenhorn. Brendan Maher's direction is striking; cinematography is simply stunning, augmented by lingering shots of mountains wreathed in magical blue mist. We have a powerful sense of the enchanted yet uncertain world Rochester feels he has found himself in. Hand-held camera-work and zoom lenses, in addition to some quickfire editing, occasionally intercutting various scenes with each other, subtly perpetuate a sense of uncertainty, with sometimes electrifying results.
Rafe Spall plays Rochester. He is portrayed here as a pretty loathsome character, even from the outset, and Spall, to his credit, carries off this role with some aplomb. Rochester is seen to be self-seeking, suspicious of novelty (he fears Jamaica), posh and sarcastic. A true cold fish. He is not trusted by Antoinette's Aunt Cora (Victoria Hamilton) who warns Antoinette - but she is too much in love.
Her passion for Rochester is evoked through a series of close, intimate scenes - the camera lingering on her graceful neck, his hands resting on her belly, and when they are married, by numerous graphic scenes of their love-making. Antoinette's erotic awakening is key to the tale and enacted with delicacy and charm by Rebecca Hall, who is simply wonderful in this role. She is artless, loving and wholly sympathetic throughout.
This is also a tale of Rochester's erotic awakening - but he is less pleased it seems to give vent to his passionate nature, hence he turns to loveless aggression, in a drive to reassert his self-control. He prefers to view Antoinette's free spirit as lunacy, and is suddenly revolted by her sexuality, deemed so unbecoming in an English gentlewoman. Thus he chooses to torment her by having loud sex with the maidservant Amelie within her earshot. He also decides to change her name to Bertha - a splendid scene where Antoinette loudly, angrily grieves the loss of her name, her sense of self, dismantled at will by her domineering husband in a desperate attempt to exert his control, to tame her.
It is genuinely hard to see any redeeming features in Spall's portrayal of Rochester - which is a fair reading of Rhys's novel, even though Rochester is genuinely paranoid amidst his strange surroundings, but proves unwilling to adapt. In the film, Christophine, Antoinette's nanny, played here by Nina Sosanya in fantastic form, is duly chilling in her obvious distaste for Rochester. Amelie (Lorraine Burroughs) is vile to Antoinette, calling her a 'white cockroach' - a term of abuse for a white creole. Antoinette tells Rochester that she has suffered this and other insults, 'white nigger', all her life ... but he is not interested in her harsh and isolating experiences, adrift on the racial margins of society, and he elects instead to defend Amelie, the aggressor in her confrontation with Antoinette.
There is a pleasing symmetry to this film - the opening scenes depict Antoinette/Bertha wandering the long, dark corridors at Thornfield with a candle in hand, awed by the looming portraits of Rochester's ancestors. She sees Rochester sleeping, and tenderly strokes his hand - a scene intercut with snippets recalling their love-making. The memory torments her. Wild-faced she turns and stares at a painting which depicts Spanish Town in Jamaica ... it is a useful framing device through which we enter the past, taking us to the start of the narrative with Rochester's arrival and his first meeting with Antoinette.
The film closes with Antoinette/Bertha staring at a mirror. Rochester tells her they are going home to where she can be looked after, although she reminds him that the doctors will say whatever he wants them to say. Notably we have had no true sign of Antoinette/Bertha's mental disorder by this stage - simply the genuinely-felt outpourings of a girl haunted by fear of rejection and dark memories, now forsaken by the man she loves, in callous fashion.
She is dressed in black, which is a fitting signifier of the mournful loss of her life, of all she loved, in return for unjust incarceration at the hands of a stranger. He asks her to trust him, to which she replies, 'how can I, when I know nothing about you?' Behind her black hat is a vase of vivid red flowers - a colour used in conjunction with Antoinette, representing her passionate nature, and once much-loved by Rochester who at one point insists she wears a low-cut red dress. Red too are the flames which engulf Thornfield and eventually Antoinette/Bertha as the action returns to the film's beginning. Which is in fact the end.
Since Wide Sargasso Sea was first published, in some ways the novel and its tragic protagonist have come to haunt Jane Eyre - just indeed as Bertha herself is a haunting presence in the original novel. This film is a fine companion piece to the current BBC series of Jane Eyre. Although much smaller in scale and scope than the grander Jane Eyre production, in many respects Wide Sargasso Sea is a piece of finer, stronger, braver filmmaking, offering genuine synergies of cinematography, motifs of light, shade and colour, narrative flow, character development and a lustrous, magnificent musical score. It is conceived as an exquisitely styled miniature rather than a sprawling, luxuriant epic, but both works have the potential to inform the other.
Indeed, it would be hugely interesting (and courageous) to see a Jane Eyre adaptation which was genuinely conceived in the light of Jean Rhys's novel; one which highlighted the postcolonial discourses, the sense of 'Otherness', of life at the margins, which is threaded through both these narratives. It would be gratifying too if this mythical adaptation genuinely, unflinchingly reflected on the sorry plight of so many women in the nineteenth century who were cast out of 'decent' society on sometimes unfounded but convenient grounds of madness. (It is well worth reading Elaine Showalter's The Female Malady for a fascinating insight into the dire extent of this practice). But such a scenario is unlikely, as this would entail debunking the romantic heroism of Rochester and would simultaneously destroy the romantic core of Charlotte Bronte's novel, one of the chief reasons for its persistent popularity ... but it would be an exciting venture, all the same.
For reviews of Jane Eyre : Episode 1, 2 and 3 and 4
Is The Departed quite what it's been cracked up to be? (REVIEW)
REVIEW: THE DEPARTED, REMAKE OF INFERNAL AFFAIRS, 2006
Is The Departed quite what it's been cracked up to be?
In a word. NO.
But it is a fabulous film all the same with an especially powerful and moving performance from Leonardo DiCaprio as Billy Costigan - I for one sincerely hopes he gets an Oscar nomination for Actor in a leading role for this work.
Anyway, I don't want to be too spoilerific in this review, which I'll also try (and probably fail) to keep brief, as so much is being written about this film at the moment. There's no point regurgitating the plot to excess - it's being trailed just about everywhere - but in a nutshell: two Boston cops; Colin Sullivan (Matt Damon) is corrupt and secretly working for crime boss Frank Costello (Jack Nicholson), whilst Billy Costigan (Leonardo DiCaprio) is dispatched from the force to work as undercover as one of Costello's favoured henchmen. Before long the police and Costello realise they both have a 'mole' - at which point Sullivan is hired to find himself.
Much has been said of the towering, bravura performance from Jack Nicholson - much of it hyperbolic and pandering. Having said that, he is effective and more than a little frightening at times. A Shakespearean villain in full, flamboyant flow. But he is very much mad, bad Jack as we know and love him. This role was hardly a stretch. I still think his best work in recent years has been About Schmidt and I adored Melvyn in As Good as it Gets - and to be brutally honest, I couldn't help but discern mild traces of Melvyn in Frank Costello, odd as that may sound.
There has been talk a-plenty that Nicholson might be nominated for an Oscar as 'leading' actor for this film. I certainly hope this is not the case. He is most definitely 'supporting' - even though he is the pivotal character throughout. The spine of the story, so to speak.
We definitely have two co-leads here, Matt Damon and Leonardo DiCaprio; and to be honest, Damon has the bigger, though not necessarily meatier role. This is not to say he has more screen time, or that he is the hero - but Damon's Sullivan is the 'protagonist'. This narrative charts HIS character development above all, from his childhood, when his tender, young soul was effectively sold to the devil (Costello) through pecuniary desperation and a need for protection in the roughest part of Boston, to his seamless but duplicitous rise through the ranks of the State Police. Throughout, we just about see more of Sullivan's backstory and home life than any other character, and observe his development from smug to fearful, from morally moribund to self-questioning through to cold self-assertion in a desperate attempt to survive. Damon performs well here and certainly proves yet again that he is one of Hollywood's finest, most competent young actors. However, I much preferred Andy Lau in this role in the Hong Kong film Infernal Affairs, of which The Departed is so famously an adapted remake.
There is a certain froideur Damon brings to his personas on film, which often belies an inner turmoil or heated aggression. This enables him to successfully play characters who have double, deceitful or troubled identities. Indeed, he is a pastmaster at this type of role, and it is why he is ideal for Colin Sullivan who is embroiled in his own fiercely contested identity issues - eventually struggling to cope with the complexity of his own life. By the end of The Departed he is quite desperate to affirm his own sense of self, away from Costello - but in this film, such self-assertion is not allowed it seems. It is as though the invisible wheels of pre-destination are set in motion when one is a child - one cannot escape one's fate.
This is certainly true of Billy Costigan (DiCaprio) who has family on his paternal side who were famously active in Boston's seamy, brutal Gangland, (but notably not his own father). Due to a messy divorce, young Billy has managed to navigate an edgy path between two sharply-constrasting worlds: suburban middle-classville and inner-city underclass. As an intelligent and determined adult, (though still emotionally burdened by his confusing childhood), he becomes an undercover cop, forced to pal up with gangland boss Costello and engage in heavy-duty, gut-churning violence on a regular basis. It comes easily to Costigan while never dehumanising him in the process - perhaps it's in the genes?
Again, there is a sense that one cannot escape one's true self, one's fate. Indeed, this is precisely the argument Police Sergeant Dignam (a splendidly foul-mouthed Mark Wahlberg, though not quite as amazing as the critics suggest) and Captain Queenan (an uncharismatic performance from Martin Sheen) make to Costigan, when they recruit and re-train him for a life in subterfuge. They effectively exhort Costigan to tap into his dark 'Costigan' blood, and importantly, his Costigan contacts, to get close to Costello. It is relatively easy for Costigan. There really is a pent-up agression, a mania, raging to be let loose at any given moment, which typifies his progress throughout this film.
But there is also a searing vulnerability, an emotional rawness, which is truly heart-rending. It is no surprise that this friendless, rather frightening and extremely frightened young man, who is clearly intelligent and sensitive and desperate to love and be loved, completely steals this film. Nicholson's showiness as Costello is gaining the critical plaudits and possibly the honours too but this is a genuine tour-de-force from DiCaprio who completely inhabits his role as Costigan - and it was his emotional journey which enthralled me throughout and held my attention.
Vera Farmiga is the only standout female role as police shrink and Sullivan's troubled girlfriend Madolyn. She falls in love with Costigan, who is her patient - and frankly you can hardly blame her. Sullivan , in true sociopathic style, is shown to have precious little genuine interest in Madolyn's life and past as an individual beyond the confines of their own brief relationship. This is because he cannot reconcile his own discordant identity - the disjuncture between his cocky but deceitful adult self and his vulnerable child self which fears and worships Costello as the Svengali 'Daddy' who rules his life. He also suffers from bouts of impotence with Madolyn - again, a symptom of his inner confusion.
Madolyn is drawn to his brittle, glib charm, but soon repelled by his cold invulnerability. She is at heart a gentle soul, drawn to those who need her (like Costigan). Sullivan simply doesn't get why such an educated, accomplished woman as herself, could possibly want to earn so little doing the job she does. In some ways, Madolyn is the heart of the piece ... a soft, subtle, tremulous heart. And she is the only character with a future, with forward momentum. (BIG SPOILER AHEAD) Are we in fact supposed to believe that the child she is bearing at the end of the film is Sullivan's or Costigan's? I would like to believe it is Costigan's, and this is partly borne out by her forceful brushing aside of Sullivan at Costigan's funeral, even though Sullivan makes a plea on behalf of their child.
The most impressive small supporting role in this ensemble however, is Alec Baldwin as Ellerby, a gruff, cussing, witty bugger who has been downplayed in most reviews I have read so far. He is fully deserving of a special mention. Ray Winstone as Mr French has garnered good reports too, but he is never truly tested in this role - indeed any role?
As for the film itself - the setting, the cinematography, the direction, the scoring. On all fronts this is an excellent film, but not the formidable masterpiece being trumpeted by a determined phalanx of adoring critics and movie buffs. I have a lot of time for Scorcese. And yes I think it is a travesty that a director of his calibre, with his record, has never been rewarded with an Oscar. I also think his best work - for now at any rate - is well and truly in the past: Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, Mean Streets and The King of Comedy. I also love The Age of Innocence. Goodfellas - to which The Departed been frequently and understandably compared - is exhilarating, suspenseful and also a much better film than The Departed in most departments (bar DiCaprio). In saying this of course, I am not dissing Scorcese's more recent works, which have regularly been superior to most other films on release.
The Departed is very long - even over-long. In this regard it lacks the snap and style of its Hong Kong forerunner Infernal Affairs. Many have praised the editing overseen by Thelma Schoonmaker. I'm not convinced. If anything this felt a little laboured at times, and some of the early scene juxtapositions are clumsily-executed. While it is good to see a contemporary film indulge at times in Old School-style ASLs which steer well clear of the 3-4 seconds commonly seen with so many super-quickfire, continuous editing vehicles blitzing our cinema and TV screens these days - I'll be honest and say that sometimes The Departed dragged - most particularly in the middle section and even towards the climactic end. In its favour, we have some remarkable lengthy scenes of high quality - for instance, when Costello confronts Costigan in a bar, aiming to ascertain his loyalty. Both actors are at the top of their game and the scene literally sizzles. There is another extensive, suspenseful scene between Sullivan and Costigan when they communicate, in tense silence, by mobile phone - neither daring to say a word.
Also in the film's favour, and in fact a true mark of excellence, is Scorcese's evocation of a threatening, violent atmosphere in the bars and streets of Boston's Southside. Indeed, Boston is lovingly portrayed - a generous move from a hardened New Yorker. Cinematographically the film is technically flawless, if a little pedestrian. Scorcese seems to have veered away from the sweeping cinematic vision of The Aviator and the obsessively intricate detailism of Gangs of New York and The Age of Innocence. This is not in fact a criticism. The Departed is not flashy and nor should it be. (That's for Michael Mann). But neither is it especially exciting either.
Narratologically the film is generally well-paced, if a little saggy at times. It works as a two-hander focusing on the twin tales of Sullivan and Costigan - but Nicholson's Costello becomes too large and unwieldy a force in the centre of the film which destabilises what needs to be a finely-poised narrative. Scorcese needed to rein Nicholson in or at least edit some of him out - but it is understandable that the gusto of his performance held sway. It's such tremendous fun! But it does undo a lot of Scorcese's good work. What could have been a tightly-woven, succinctly-constructed and gripping narrative becomes a bit of a baggy monster at times. It is surely a credit to Scorcese's consummate skill and experience as a director that this film still packs a powerful emotional punch - but it could have been so much better. The script, penned by William Monahan of rather dubious Kingdom of Heaven fame, is really rather good, stuffed full of witticisms galore (yes, this is often a very funny film) and neat verbal parries. It's sufficiently meaty material for Scorcese and his cast to work with well.
One final sour note - the music. Occasionally Scorcese's choice in performer and song is inspired, but by and large the musical scoring here is abominable - a travesty from the usually reliable Howard Shore. Not only is it abominable but it is bloody persistent too, pervading each and every moment - we rarely enjoy a moment's peace. Sometimes the scoring is little more than a ditzy-sounding syntho-poppy thing, bleating interminably in the manner of tasteless elevator muzak or a low-volume transistor radio which someone forgot to switch off.
So does The Departed match up to its source material Infernal Affairs? Yes, it does - just. I preferred the cut and thrust and pacey momentum of the Hong Kong original - but I was more moved by Leonardo DiCaprio than Tony Leung as the undercover cop (although Leung was marvellous too, which says more about how highly I rate DiCaprio in this instance). DiCaprio's story carried me through this film - not Nicholson's high-faluting antics and dark dramatics, nor even Damon's subtly enervated complexities.
Will Scorcese win an Oscar for this film? I haven't a clue, although there are many who feel violence a la Scorcese is not the Academy's bag. Frankly the violence here didn't over-awe ... it didn't really 'awe' at all actually, but then I'm a hard-boiled old thing who's seen and digested a lot of blood and gore, (in the cinematic sense of course). So with that in mind The Departed has as good a chance as any I guess to scoop top honours. I rather hope it doesn't, although I will be plugging for DiCaprio to take Best Actor for his scintillating work here.
Is The Departed quite what it's been cracked up to be?
In a word. NO.
But it is a fabulous film all the same with an especially powerful and moving performance from Leonardo DiCaprio as Billy Costigan - I for one sincerely hopes he gets an Oscar nomination for Actor in a leading role for this work.
Anyway, I don't want to be too spoilerific in this review, which I'll also try (and probably fail) to keep brief, as so much is being written about this film at the moment. There's no point regurgitating the plot to excess - it's being trailed just about everywhere - but in a nutshell: two Boston cops; Colin Sullivan (Matt Damon) is corrupt and secretly working for crime boss Frank Costello (Jack Nicholson), whilst Billy Costigan (Leonardo DiCaprio) is dispatched from the force to work as undercover as one of Costello's favoured henchmen. Before long the police and Costello realise they both have a 'mole' - at which point Sullivan is hired to find himself.
Much has been said of the towering, bravura performance from Jack Nicholson - much of it hyperbolic and pandering. Having said that, he is effective and more than a little frightening at times. A Shakespearean villain in full, flamboyant flow. But he is very much mad, bad Jack as we know and love him. This role was hardly a stretch. I still think his best work in recent years has been About Schmidt and I adored Melvyn in As Good as it Gets - and to be brutally honest, I couldn't help but discern mild traces of Melvyn in Frank Costello, odd as that may sound.
There has been talk a-plenty that Nicholson might be nominated for an Oscar as 'leading' actor for this film. I certainly hope this is not the case. He is most definitely 'supporting' - even though he is the pivotal character throughout. The spine of the story, so to speak.
We definitely have two co-leads here, Matt Damon and Leonardo DiCaprio; and to be honest, Damon has the bigger, though not necessarily meatier role. This is not to say he has more screen time, or that he is the hero - but Damon's Sullivan is the 'protagonist'. This narrative charts HIS character development above all, from his childhood, when his tender, young soul was effectively sold to the devil (Costello) through pecuniary desperation and a need for protection in the roughest part of Boston, to his seamless but duplicitous rise through the ranks of the State Police. Throughout, we just about see more of Sullivan's backstory and home life than any other character, and observe his development from smug to fearful, from morally moribund to self-questioning through to cold self-assertion in a desperate attempt to survive. Damon performs well here and certainly proves yet again that he is one of Hollywood's finest, most competent young actors. However, I much preferred Andy Lau in this role in the Hong Kong film Infernal Affairs, of which The Departed is so famously an adapted remake.
There is a certain froideur Damon brings to his personas on film, which often belies an inner turmoil or heated aggression. This enables him to successfully play characters who have double, deceitful or troubled identities. Indeed, he is a pastmaster at this type of role, and it is why he is ideal for Colin Sullivan who is embroiled in his own fiercely contested identity issues - eventually struggling to cope with the complexity of his own life. By the end of The Departed he is quite desperate to affirm his own sense of self, away from Costello - but in this film, such self-assertion is not allowed it seems. It is as though the invisible wheels of pre-destination are set in motion when one is a child - one cannot escape one's fate.
This is certainly true of Billy Costigan (DiCaprio) who has family on his paternal side who were famously active in Boston's seamy, brutal Gangland, (but notably not his own father). Due to a messy divorce, young Billy has managed to navigate an edgy path between two sharply-constrasting worlds: suburban middle-classville and inner-city underclass. As an intelligent and determined adult, (though still emotionally burdened by his confusing childhood), he becomes an undercover cop, forced to pal up with gangland boss Costello and engage in heavy-duty, gut-churning violence on a regular basis. It comes easily to Costigan while never dehumanising him in the process - perhaps it's in the genes?
Again, there is a sense that one cannot escape one's true self, one's fate. Indeed, this is precisely the argument Police Sergeant Dignam (a splendidly foul-mouthed Mark Wahlberg, though not quite as amazing as the critics suggest) and Captain Queenan (an uncharismatic performance from Martin Sheen) make to Costigan, when they recruit and re-train him for a life in subterfuge. They effectively exhort Costigan to tap into his dark 'Costigan' blood, and importantly, his Costigan contacts, to get close to Costello. It is relatively easy for Costigan. There really is a pent-up agression, a mania, raging to be let loose at any given moment, which typifies his progress throughout this film.
But there is also a searing vulnerability, an emotional rawness, which is truly heart-rending. It is no surprise that this friendless, rather frightening and extremely frightened young man, who is clearly intelligent and sensitive and desperate to love and be loved, completely steals this film. Nicholson's showiness as Costello is gaining the critical plaudits and possibly the honours too but this is a genuine tour-de-force from DiCaprio who completely inhabits his role as Costigan - and it was his emotional journey which enthralled me throughout and held my attention.
Vera Farmiga is the only standout female role as police shrink and Sullivan's troubled girlfriend Madolyn. She falls in love with Costigan, who is her patient - and frankly you can hardly blame her. Sullivan , in true sociopathic style, is shown to have precious little genuine interest in Madolyn's life and past as an individual beyond the confines of their own brief relationship. This is because he cannot reconcile his own discordant identity - the disjuncture between his cocky but deceitful adult self and his vulnerable child self which fears and worships Costello as the Svengali 'Daddy' who rules his life. He also suffers from bouts of impotence with Madolyn - again, a symptom of his inner confusion.
Madolyn is drawn to his brittle, glib charm, but soon repelled by his cold invulnerability. She is at heart a gentle soul, drawn to those who need her (like Costigan). Sullivan simply doesn't get why such an educated, accomplished woman as herself, could possibly want to earn so little doing the job she does. In some ways, Madolyn is the heart of the piece ... a soft, subtle, tremulous heart. And she is the only character with a future, with forward momentum. (BIG SPOILER AHEAD) Are we in fact supposed to believe that the child she is bearing at the end of the film is Sullivan's or Costigan's? I would like to believe it is Costigan's, and this is partly borne out by her forceful brushing aside of Sullivan at Costigan's funeral, even though Sullivan makes a plea on behalf of their child.
The most impressive small supporting role in this ensemble however, is Alec Baldwin as Ellerby, a gruff, cussing, witty bugger who has been downplayed in most reviews I have read so far. He is fully deserving of a special mention. Ray Winstone as Mr French has garnered good reports too, but he is never truly tested in this role - indeed any role?
As for the film itself - the setting, the cinematography, the direction, the scoring. On all fronts this is an excellent film, but not the formidable masterpiece being trumpeted by a determined phalanx of adoring critics and movie buffs. I have a lot of time for Scorcese. And yes I think it is a travesty that a director of his calibre, with his record, has never been rewarded with an Oscar. I also think his best work - for now at any rate - is well and truly in the past: Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, Mean Streets and The King of Comedy. I also love The Age of Innocence. Goodfellas - to which The Departed been frequently and understandably compared - is exhilarating, suspenseful and also a much better film than The Departed in most departments (bar DiCaprio). In saying this of course, I am not dissing Scorcese's more recent works, which have regularly been superior to most other films on release.
The Departed is very long - even over-long. In this regard it lacks the snap and style of its Hong Kong forerunner Infernal Affairs. Many have praised the editing overseen by Thelma Schoonmaker. I'm not convinced. If anything this felt a little laboured at times, and some of the early scene juxtapositions are clumsily-executed. While it is good to see a contemporary film indulge at times in Old School-style ASLs which steer well clear of the 3-4 seconds commonly seen with so many super-quickfire, continuous editing vehicles blitzing our cinema and TV screens these days - I'll be honest and say that sometimes The Departed dragged - most particularly in the middle section and even towards the climactic end. In its favour, we have some remarkable lengthy scenes of high quality - for instance, when Costello confronts Costigan in a bar, aiming to ascertain his loyalty. Both actors are at the top of their game and the scene literally sizzles. There is another extensive, suspenseful scene between Sullivan and Costigan when they communicate, in tense silence, by mobile phone - neither daring to say a word.
Also in the film's favour, and in fact a true mark of excellence, is Scorcese's evocation of a threatening, violent atmosphere in the bars and streets of Boston's Southside. Indeed, Boston is lovingly portrayed - a generous move from a hardened New Yorker. Cinematographically the film is technically flawless, if a little pedestrian. Scorcese seems to have veered away from the sweeping cinematic vision of The Aviator and the obsessively intricate detailism of Gangs of New York and The Age of Innocence. This is not in fact a criticism. The Departed is not flashy and nor should it be. (That's for Michael Mann). But neither is it especially exciting either.
Narratologically the film is generally well-paced, if a little saggy at times. It works as a two-hander focusing on the twin tales of Sullivan and Costigan - but Nicholson's Costello becomes too large and unwieldy a force in the centre of the film which destabilises what needs to be a finely-poised narrative. Scorcese needed to rein Nicholson in or at least edit some of him out - but it is understandable that the gusto of his performance held sway. It's such tremendous fun! But it does undo a lot of Scorcese's good work. What could have been a tightly-woven, succinctly-constructed and gripping narrative becomes a bit of a baggy monster at times. It is surely a credit to Scorcese's consummate skill and experience as a director that this film still packs a powerful emotional punch - but it could have been so much better. The script, penned by William Monahan of rather dubious Kingdom of Heaven fame, is really rather good, stuffed full of witticisms galore (yes, this is often a very funny film) and neat verbal parries. It's sufficiently meaty material for Scorcese and his cast to work with well.
One final sour note - the music. Occasionally Scorcese's choice in performer and song is inspired, but by and large the musical scoring here is abominable - a travesty from the usually reliable Howard Shore. Not only is it abominable but it is bloody persistent too, pervading each and every moment - we rarely enjoy a moment's peace. Sometimes the scoring is little more than a ditzy-sounding syntho-poppy thing, bleating interminably in the manner of tasteless elevator muzak or a low-volume transistor radio which someone forgot to switch off.
So does The Departed match up to its source material Infernal Affairs? Yes, it does - just. I preferred the cut and thrust and pacey momentum of the Hong Kong original - but I was more moved by Leonardo DiCaprio than Tony Leung as the undercover cop (although Leung was marvellous too, which says more about how highly I rate DiCaprio in this instance). DiCaprio's story carried me through this film - not Nicholson's high-faluting antics and dark dramatics, nor even Damon's subtly enervated complexities.
Will Scorcese win an Oscar for this film? I haven't a clue, although there are many who feel violence a la Scorcese is not the Academy's bag. Frankly the violence here didn't over-awe ... it didn't really 'awe' at all actually, but then I'm a hard-boiled old thing who's seen and digested a lot of blood and gore, (in the cinematic sense of course). So with that in mind The Departed has as good a chance as any I guess to scoop top honours. I rather hope it doesn't, although I will be plugging for DiCaprio to take Best Actor for his scintillating work here.
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