A Trio of Reviews – Dancers, Filmmakers and Gangsters

The Dance of Reality
2013
Writer/Director: Alejandro Jodorowsky

The Dance of Reality is Alejandro Jodorowsky’s first film in a ridiculous 23 years. After indulging in El Topo (which I think is a masterpiece) and The Holy Mountain (which has enough bold ideas and beautiful shots to fill several movies), I was excited at the prospect of seeing his new film on a big screen. Thankfully, this new work is just so identifiably his, with its focus on spirituality, off-kilter humour and his unique no holds barred approach to visual style that I’d say The Dance of Reality definitely ranks with those other films. Similarly with those films too, I left feeling like I had no idea what really happened and a little overwhelmed with the sheer excess of content. I can’t help feeling any ideas I might have about this film are probably wrong.

Partly autobiographical, the story is inspired by Jodorowsky’s own childhood growing up in the Chilean coastal town of Tocopilla, and was filmed on location there. It’s saying something when this film can be called the most coherent he’s made yet – Jodorowsky here very much follows the advice “When forced to pick between truth and legend, print the legend”. Jeremias Herskovits plays the young Alejandro, a painfully shy young boy who is bullied by many for being Jewish and effeminate, and is desperate to win the affection of his father. The real Jodorowsky appears from time to time as his future self/spirit guide/narrator. Stranger still, Jodorowsky’s own son Brontis plays his father Jaime, a brash violent Communist who models himself on Stalin, all large moustache and grey jumpsuit, and whose approach to parenting is comically extreme. Pamela Flores plays Alejandro’s mother Sara, a buxom lady who runs the family undergarments store in the town, and who only communicates by singing. Large scenes of her lamenting or offering advice turn the film into an operatic musical.

As with El Topo and The Holy Mountain, The Dance of Reality is primarily about a man undergoing a quasi-Messianic spiritual journey, facing a series of challenges which tests his commitments to his goals and teaches him the aspects of his life he should be valuing. In this case, Jaime leaves Tocopilla on a quest to assassinate the right wing president of Chile to prove himself following several blows to his perception of his masculinity. Lots of other Jodorowsky traits and interests pop up too – a fascination with money and how it both corrupts and creates opportunities; the use of actors with amputations and disfigurements; long passages of rambling philosophical content and visual explorations of religion via mystical characters (here includes a nude theosophist and a kindly carpenter); and absolutely no fear in showing anything graphic (nudity, torture, urination, bloodshed).

Jodorowsky throws so many ideas at the wall here, and it’s unsurprising not all of them stick. This may be his most ‘conventional’ film but that doesn’t mean it’s not a mess. Long stretches of the film divert from the plot to explore often unrelated topics, and surreal content often drags out scenes longer than feels necessary. At over two hours, it can sometimes be a bit of a slog. Those familiar with his work will not be so confused by these tangents, and as a fan I lapped up a lot of these genuinely quite entertaining asides. Many shots are frequently gorgeous and distinct, especially with the clarity of digital film as opposed to the cheap film stock of his earlier work – a crowd of plague victims clad in black carrying tattered parasols traverses a mountain; the sea spitting up huge piles of dead fish sending seagulls into a frenzy; a joyous congregation holding chairs above their heads and jumping 26 times in thankfulness; Jaime fighting off Nazis with invisible sci-fi weapons.

The film does try to cover too many themes, although perhaps the most important one is Jodorowsky’s perception that our understanding of what ‘reality’ is is not concrete but rather a personal dance of our imaginations and experiences and an understanding of lives and experiences beyond our own. Jodorowsky is that rare beast – a true artist who soaks up the most diverse range of inspirations and creates challenging works for which he is more than happy to lose money making. In interviews, he comes across as a very humorous and energetic man, despite his age. That very much shows in this film.

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Me and Earl and the Dying Girl
2015
Writer: Jesse Andrews
Director: Alfonso Gomez-Rejon

Aka, the making of a Sundance hit 101. There is this stereotype of the Sundance indie hit being the quirky self-aware dramedy about dysfunctional middle class American families dealing with minor crises, and in ways Me and Earl and the Dying Girl fits many of these criteria, convoluted title and all. It’s also the latest in a series of films about teenagers with cancer, after The Fault in our Stars and Now is Good (although I haven’t seen either of those so I don’t know how this compares) – it’s probably likely this adaptation of Jesse Andrew’s teen novel was greenlighted following the big success of Fault in our Stars. But reviews of this film had generally been pretty good and the trailer made it seem pretty charming and light-hearted, plus I do have a bit of a soft spot for these sorts of films.

The Me of the title is Greg (Thomas Mann), a witty but socially awkward senior at high school who has crafted the perfect position for himself at school by being friendly with everyone but friends with no one, and not being a fixture in any discernible clique. His comfortable anonymity is troubled when his mum (Connie Britton) forces him to reach out to Rachel (Olivia Cooke), a former childhood friend who has been diagnosed with leukaemia. After an awkward start, Greg and Rachel gradually become good friends as she start her chemotherapy. Greg soon introduces her to Earl (RJ Cyler), his co-worker (as he’s too scared to call him his friend), with whom he likes to make Gondry-esque short movies based upon puns of classic movies (The 400 Bros, The Rad Shoes, A Sockwork Orange).

Reading comments online, it seems like this film has really polarised people, with many quite extreme in either loving it or hating it. I know the film didn’t fare so well at the US box office. But I’m quite happy to say I liked this film a lot. There are aspects about it which I wasn’t so sure about and bits which don’t totally fit, but overall there was a lot to enjoy about it and I was won over and I was moved. Of course the film is very cineliterate and full of references to directors and books which I lapped up. The soundtrack is very carefully selected too, with lots of Brian Eno tracks, including some original ones he composed just for this, which is exciting.

But what I liked most about the film was the characters, and the really great performances that brought them to life. The trio of teenagers especially come across as genuine and flawed and confused, even with some of the knowingly arch dialogue the script gives them. I’ve read complaints online about how Greg is an annoying narrator who is grumpy and doesn’t change over the course of the story, but that’s the point! Greg is stubborn, and he’s plagued with self-doubt and slavishly follows habits. It’s not surprising he often screws up when faced with the challenge of making a new friend, but we see him make the effort and we see the subtle development of his and Rachel’s friendship and the little lessons he learns. It’s testament to Mann’s realisation that we do enjoy his company, and how he and the film aren’t afraid of exposing his shortcomings. His deadpan voiceover repeats knowingly how this isn’t a touching romantic story and that does come across as a bit postmodern cliché, but I forgot that the film is bookended by Greg writing this story as a manuscript so it begins to make sense.

Similarly, I was impressed with Cooke’s performance as Rachel, where often we read how she’s feeling through the slight emergence of a smile, or the distracted offhand glances of her eyes. The camera loves her face, and we grow to learn a lot from it. I also appreciated how the film approached her reaction to the cancer. It’s not surprising that chemotherapy would make her depressed as fuck, and that there are scenes where she doesn’t talk or doesn’t look at anyone, framed in the corner of the screen slightly out of focus. There are moments when she’s upset, and bits where she’s laughing and joking, but I respected how there are no grand emotional scenes where she monologues about what she’s learnt or how she’s grown. Cancer sucks, and this isn’t afraid to show it.

Thirdly I loved Cyler’s effortless performance as Earl. It’s a shame he isn’t actually in the film that much really, as in many ways he’s the most interesting character. Living literally on the wrong side of the tracks, there isn’t as much exploration of his friendship with Greg or why he too loves cinema or eats his lunch in their history teacher’s office with Greg. He’s the most level-headed and the wisest of the three, and Cyler imbues him with an intelligence and maturity which feels older.

So what flaws did I feel were there? As I said, I would have liked to have learnt more about Earl. Also, like with many of these American indie films, a lot of the dialogue comes across a little unreal, like in that mumblecore knowing laidback way which sounds rambling and real but sometimes feel like it’s being read from a script, like it knows how witty it is. I don’t often mind this sort of thing, like in a lot of Wes Anderson scenes, but I found some of it a little out of place when placed with the more low-key quieter moments of the film. The supporting characters and high school cliques are comically exaggerated in a way that is often funny, but the characters of the parents a left a little lacking because of this. This may just be the teens’ perception of them as people not that important to them at this point in their lives, but I felt they deserved a little more characterisation, especially when they have such good comic actors playing them, like Nick Offerman as Greg’s dad. Rachel’s mother (Molly Shannon) is seen coping with her daughter’s diagnosis by drinking, but that’s all we see of her really – the permanent glass of wine in her hand.

The film is directed by Alfonso Gomez-Rejon, who’s had a lot of experience as a second-unit director and directing television, most notably American Horror Story. The very fluid camerawork full of crane shots and Steadicam which he favours in AHS is noticeably present here, although I think it gives a suitable sense of play and dynamism to scenes which is welcoming, especially when so many American comedy films nowadays are just happy to point and shoot and let the dialogue do all the work. Saying that, one extended scene where Greg and Rachel argue and the camera remains static near the ground is one of the most impressive in the film thanks to the script, the performances and Gomez-Rejon’s understanding of when restraint is the best option. For me, one of the biggest achievements of this film was its handling of the balance between comedy and drama. The film at times is more serious than I was expecting, and sometimes is emotional. I felt the film erred on the right side of sentimentality, not crossing over into mawkishness whilst still being affective. One scene set to Brian Eno’s ‘The Big Ship’ has quickly gone on to become one of my favourite scenes out of anything I’ve seen this year, it was genuinely moving. I was impressed.

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Legend
2015
Writer/Director: Brian Helgeland

Coming out of Legend, I was thinking that I had been entertained and there were bits I liked, but overall it was just an okay film, good in parts. Bit too long. I couldn’t really put my finger on what stopped it from being a better film, or what might have been missing from it. Considering it a day later, I can’t remember enough specifics to query it much further. But I’ve come to the conclusion that the decision to play this biopic of the Kray twins, London’s most notorious gangsters, relatively straight, with a storyline simply linearly plotting events as they happened in one scene after another with very little exploration of the factors involved or consequences, makes this film pretty uninvolving. It’s hard to tell how many years have passed over the entire story – things just happen. And then other things happen. It’s almost documentarian, but lacks the drama or engagement to elevate the material. The film is so indebted to the Kray’s perception of themselves as legends that it hardly questions this, and often buys into it. Scenarios are directed to promote the twins onscreen as anti-heroes as much as the violent thugs they very often were.

The story starts when the Krays are already powerful gang lords of the East End. Tom Hardy plays Reggie, the relatively level-headed twin with a business mind, who commands respectability but is not afraid of getting his hands dirty. He’s getting increasingly concerned about his brother Ronald (also Tom Hardy), who is prone to impulsive violence and paranoia. He’s reckless, and enjoys being a gangster for the thrill of conflict. Reggie also meets Frances (Emily Browning), a delicate but self-aware teenager who quickly becomes his girlfriend. This leads to an interesting tension between the three of them, as Reggie is torn between his love for Frances and her desire for him to live on the right side of the law, and his loyalty to Ron and the pleasures of being a gangster. This dynamic was the most interesting part of the film, and it didn’t feature enough to my liking.

Essentially though, the film is a platform for Hardy’s performances, and they are generally very good. It says a lot when many of the best interactions in the film are between the two twins, and I have to give kudos to Hardy and the filmmakers for making those scenes look so seamless, they were excellently done. I liked the suave cockiness of Reggie. From the trailer, I was worried that Ron would be a bit more caricaturish, and it is a little bit, but I did appreciate how the film could both mock his more extreme thoughts and plans (such as his idea to build a utopian city in Nigeria) and convincingly display his genuinely unnerving sociopathic tendencies. Though I’ve got to agree with Mark Kermode when he describes Ronnie as sounding a bit like Alan Partridge and looking like Peter O’Hanraha-hanrahan from The Day Today.

Further thoughts: first of all, the title is rubbish. Legend. It explains and refers to nothing. I can’t remember if the word is even mentioned in the film. And why is it singular? They’re twins, there’s two of them. They were infamous yes, but legendary? Not really, or at least nothing in the film really gets to the heart of what made them iconic, and nothing particularly legendary happens. I was on the listings page on a cinema website the other day and it had legitimately put the description of the 1980s Tom Cruise film Legend up instead by accident. This title says relatively nothing about the film.

Second, I liked Browning’s performance. She nailed the balance between playing vulnerable young woman but one who could stand up for herself and who wasn’t naïve. Her accent was on point too. But the decision to have her narrating the film is a strange one. It was probably hoped her involvement would provide more of an emotional core for the film, one which the Krays couldn’t provide. But the logistics of her voiceover makes no sense, and is often dragged down by clunky dialogue and exposition.

Finally, I liked the 1960s period detail, and the contrasts between the tacky glamour of the nightclubs with the faded décor of the terraced houses of the East End. But in the end, the overt style of the settings, all stages and sharp furniture is superficial like the film itself. It buys into this lifestyle too much to the point where it can only touch the surface of the Kray story, and we come out of it entertained but none the wiser.

The Diary of a Teenage Girl (2015)

2015
Writer/Director: Marielle Heller

The thing I love most about cinema is how it can so completely immerse you and engulf you in the lives and emotions and experiences of characters who may not be at all relatable or similar to you, and it does this to an extent that few other art forms can achieve so readily. This was how I felt leaving The Diary of a Teenage Girl, a seriously excellent exploration of the life of a 15 year old girl that just feels so believable and engrossing, I was surprised just how into it I got.

Bel Powley fearlessly and convincingly plays Minnie Goetze, a normal schoolgirl living in a wood-panelled townhouse in 1970s San Francisco with her bohemian mother (Kristen Wiig), and who is beginning to explore the emergence of her sexual feelings and desires. She often laments how no one loves her the way she wishes they would, and frequently feels insecure about her body. The camera frequently focuses intently on her roundish face and big expressive eyes which often makes her look even younger than she is, as she wrestles with the conflicting feelings she experiences as a girl wanting to explore her sexuality and wanting to feel secure. Her thoughts are expressed via her intimate voiceover or when she talks to her cassette audio-diary. Despite her self-doubts, she’s beginning to get more desiring attention from boys, not least her mother’s 30-something year old boyfriend Monroe (Alexander Skarsgard). He’s tall, handsome, more than a little goofy, and takes her seriously as a grown woman and an object of desire – it’s no wonder she’s drawn to him, and they begin having sex regularly.

The basis of the story is Minnie’s discovery of herself, and her struggles to realise what she wants. What does come clearly to her is that she enjoys sex, she feels entitled to it, and she’d like to keep having it. Like many teenagers, her messy period of self-discovery leads to lots of conflicted feelings and regretful mistakes. The film never shies away from expressing the enormity of her emotions and the sometimes awkward consequences they entail. From the onscreen animations which visualise both her innermost thoughts (similarly to the few episodes of My Mad Fat Diary I have seen, which equally creates a fantastic insight into a highly developed character) as well as effectively displaying her certainty of wanting to be a cartoonist, to the hyperbole of her language, the film does an incredible job of portraying a character who is at once confidently mature and plainly naïve, who is both in control and easily swayed. I loved the complexity of her relationship with Monroe and the fickleness of her feelings, going from pure lust to begrudging affection, as well her inability to fully understand Monroe’s (often selfish) intentions, let alone her own (sometimes selfish) intentions.

What I admired was how the film shows that all the major characters, no matter their age or experience, similarly often struggle to comprehend the complex interplay of their emotional and sexual feelings. We hear Minnie articulate her doubts about whether her feelings and relationships are healthy or normal, but we realise too that Monroe, who is 35, sees the potential problems with their meetings, yet cannot resist going back to her and is strung along by her as much as he leads her astray (a scene with Monroe having a bad drug trip seemingly confirms the repression of his own self-doubts, as he hallucinates dangerous people are watching him). Even Minnie’s mother, who exudes self-confidence, is drawn to reckless behaviour, seemingly because she still hasn’t learnt that she doesn’t have to depend on getting other people to love her in order to love herself.

At certain points, Minnie is referred to as a ‘slut’ or a ‘nympho’. One boy becomes intimidated by the intensity of her sexuality. Yet admirably, the film never judges or trivialises her actions, nor exploits the potentially taboo nature of her sexuality. Instead, it offers an amazingly immersive study of a character in transition, one who is learning and who has no qualms in seeking what makes her happy. It achieves this through striking a fine tone – the film is often very funny, and addresses the issues in Minnie’s life in a clear unbiased way that makes her thoughts and actions feel truthful. I also loved the little moments and sensations that makes this story so believable – the little buzz you get when someone touches your skin, the heady thrill of drug-taking, even those uncontrollable moments when just the smallest things make your emotions explode, like when hearing stern words from Monroe leaves Minnie sobbing on the floor, or her times with her friend Kimmie (Madeleine Waters) where they dance and scream because they feel like it. I especially loved a scene where Minnie and Monroe lie in bed together, having agreed to talk seriously about what’s going on, until the feeling of their bodies touching can’t help but make them want to touch and grope one another – the camera watches their faces from the side as they lie, the little gestures in their faces and eyes the other can’t see that really shows the mad rush of uncontrollable thoughts they’re having.

The Diary of a Teenage Girl is a seriously excellent movie that often left me smiling through whole scenes at both the witticisms of the dialogue and the charming authenticity of so many of the scenarios, even when some of them become recognisably uncomfortable in their explicitness or relatability. The soundtrack is pretty kick-ass too. Admittedly, I found the animated sequences at times a little distracting, and there are some moments which ring a little overly-contrived, but these are minor quibbles. Kudos to writer/director Marielle Heller, for taking what could have been a potentially exploitative premise, and instead creating a warm, beautifully made film that embraces moral complexity of real life, a film “for all the girls when they have grown”.

Two more points before I finish here: first, this is the fourth new film I’ve seen this year that has been directed by a woman, after Selma (Ana DuVernay), The Falling (Carol Morley) and A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night (Ana Lily Amirpour) (I missed out on seeing Girlhood (Céline Sciamma) which I really wanted to see). Whilst this doesn’t sound substantial, it’s still the most I’ve ever seen at the cinema, and all were bold admirable films with strong visions. It’s definitely worth noting how many more films by great female filmmakers are getting more substantial mainstream coverage and recognition, and this is all fine progress towards making our cinema output even more wonderfully diverse. The Diary of a Teenage Girl definitely and faithfully presents a distinctly feminine approach to character which makes the film all the more remarkable for it.

Second, to my own recollection, this has actually been the third new film I’ve seen this year that has prominently featured a female protagonist embracing their sexuality, after It Follows (David Robert Mitchell) and White Bird in a Blizzard (Gregg Araki) (The Duke of Burgundy (Peter Strickland) is also noteworthy for its unflinching portrayal of female sexuality, although I’m talking more about teenage characters here). I have to admit I was actually pretty disappointed with It Follows – I guess the hype may have raised expectations too high. But I did admire its pitch-perfect tone and its thoughtful and innovative approach in revisiting classic horror tropes, not least in reconsidering the figure of the Final Girl by making the lead (Maika Monroe) a girl who is threatened because she has had sex but one who is never ashamed of what she has done and one who the film doesn’t seem to judge.

On the other hand, I couldn’t understand the generally negative response critics had to White Bird, a film which is undeniably Araki’s safest, most conventional film but one which I was genuinely fond of. Araki’s ear for believable and funny teenage dialogue is spot-on, the story is engaging on the level of both character and plotting, and Shailene Woodley gives a fantastic performance as a girl discovering her sexuality whilst dealing with the confusing issues of her missing mother and her sense of self.

I couldn’t help noticing this trend in all three films and am hopeful that this is a sign more films and more creative directors are happy to not shy away from a fact that many aspects of society choose to ignore – that women of all ages can enjoy sex and can instigate encounters and be aware of their desires as much as men. I can’t help getting annoyed reading comments under the White Bird trailer where lots of people describe Woodley as a slut, and do wish viewers can really engage with films and realise that characters can reflect an amazing range of traits and features which often fall outside accepted notions of behaviour.

What does intrigue me about all these films is that they all have a period setting (White Bird is set in the late 1980s; It Follows is ambiguous in its setting but proudly embraces homages to 1970s design alongside contemporary features). Is it somehow safer for films to depict content like this if it places it in a bygone era where different attitudes can be more comfortably explored? Or am I reading too much into this? Are there other films which do depict teenage femininity non-judgementally in a contemporary setting which I’m not thinking of? Do tell me if you have any ideas!

Sin City: A Dame to Kill For

2014
Directors: Robert Rodriguez/Frank Miller
Writer: Frank Miller

The first Sin City film came out in June 2005, nine years ago. I was only 12 years old then, and had just finished my first year of secondary school. Looking at it that way seems pretty shocking to me; those nine years have encapsulated most of the more important events in my life. And in film terms too, that’s bizarrely long. I’m not totally aware of why there was such a delay, if it was scripting troubles or problems with producers or funding? It seems likely this gap was a major reason why this film seems to be failing at the box office. Me, on the other hand, I couldn’t wait! I was a huge fan of the original, having first seen it around 2008 and several more times since then, most recently last week. Rumours had been bubbling for several years, and when a trailer finally appeared, it looked fantastic. This truly looked like something to be seen on the big screen (although my viewing was slightly let down by some poor projecting, which cut off the top and bottom of the frame marginally).

Similar to the first film, A Dame to Kill For is comprised of several loosely connected but generally separate stories, all involving the shady characters of the Sin City underworld. Based upon Frank Miller’s series of graphic novels, some these plots are related to the last film, while some are original material. Confusingly for me, some are prequels and others are sequels, so already unfortunately these intertwined stories feel less cohesive. Big players Mickey Rourke, Bruce Willis, Jessica Alba and Rosario Dawson return for more; Josh Brolin replaces Clive Owen, and there are major new roles for Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Eva Green.

Also returning is the distinctive film noir hyperstyle, and the really gorgeous use of excessive high contrast black and white, with bursts of colour to add character – my favourite this time being the vivid green of Eva Green’s eyes. Neat little visual flourishes remain too, a particularly great one being when Gordon-Levitt’s Johnny, whilst losing at poker, sees himself shrunk to game size, stacks of chips around him, as he is sliced by razor-sharp cards. The consistency of style is reassuring and enjoyable, making it hard to believe it really has been nine years between films; although most of it is of course created on computers so it’s hardly difficult to recreate! 

The plotting is just as singularly driven, as characters pursue further revenge, profit or gain, and again, many encounter situations which turn out to be not what they seem. It’s pure pastiche, pure style, only lightly brushing over the themes of true film noir, such as urban decline, economic depression or entrapment. The biggest feature of A Dame to Kill For is corruption, and this gives a greater role to Powers Booth’s corrupt Senator Roarke, which is only a good thing as he is an electrifying screen presence. The simile-heavy dialogue and metaphors are back too, and just as enjoyably overblown and self-aware, although here sometimes pushed to the point of being overtly ridiculous.

A Dame to Kill For is a very entertaining voyage into the most disturbing of content turned pulp. Even the faces and the hushed gravelly voices of the actors feels just right. It’s just… something about this film didn’t feel as satisfying as the last time. A lot of reviews have pointed out how the sheer novelty and spectacle of the first film, once so distinct, has now become far more commonplace, which I suppose is partially true. But one of the reasons I was so looking forward to A Dame to Kill For was because it would be another chance to see this style done so beautifully.

Rather I feel the issues here lies with the scripting. The first film had a greater presence to it, a greater drive and purpose. Each of the three lead characters – Rourke’s anti-hero, Owen’s everyman, Willis’s tortured good guy – had a quest, a reason for doing what they were doing. Willis’s story of Hartigan looking out for Alba’s Nancy was especially effective. But this time, these stories and double crosses have less of a presence. Rourke’s Marv seems to exist purely to propagate violence for other characters’ needs. Gordon-Levitt’s Johnny’s attempt to best the corrupt senator at cards has far less of a powerful narrative force to it than that of Alba’s Nancy, who is being driven crazy by her desire for revenge. However, I found Alba less of an engaging screen presence than Willis was in the first film, with both pursuing similar aims. Finally, as much of a fan of Brolin as I am, I found his take on McCarthy far less charming than Owen’s, instead playing the character more as a bland thug repressing his personality in order to battle addictions which are mentioned only briefly. His story is dominated by Eva Green’s Ava – a charismatic and sultry take on the femme fatale, she’s definitely the best part of the film.

Overall, I found A Dame to Kill For far more rewarding than most critics, many of whom complained it was dull. Though the film shares many features directly with its predecessor, it doesn’t make it a mere carbon copy. However, this sequel is let down by poorer pacing and plotting; it feels less vital and urgent than the first time. Even though many stories end unhappily in Sin City, at least in the first film there was a sense of conclusion to them. This time however, many simply end without creating as great a sense of satisfaction. The visual fireworks are here, they’re simply less explosive.

Brideshead Revisited

2008
Director: Julian Jarrold
Writers: Jeremy Brock, Andrew Davies

I try really hard to make sure that when I watch a film remake or even adaptation I don’t let my views of the original impact how I see the film. Yet I inevitably find that’s pretty much impossible to do- there’s very rarely been a film I’ve considered better than the book it’s based upon. And this problem has been exemplified for me by finally watching the 2008 big-screen version of Brideshead Revisited. Comparisons with the seminal 1981 TV serial are inescapable in pretty much all reviews I’ve read about it. Having both read the Evelyn Waugh novel and watched the serial, really liking it to the point that I chose to write an essay about it for my TV module, using these as comparison points was going to be inevitable.

Unfortunately, this meant that the 2008 version did not fare as well in my eyes. The serial is just so iconic and beautifully put together that any picture I conjure in my mind of Brideshead is of that show. Watching this film then just felt a bit… off. For me, Jeremy Irons is Charles Ryder and Anthony Andrews is Sebastian Flyte. Matthew Goode and Ben Whishaw both do perfectly great jobs in their respective roles; in fact all the performances are excellent. It’s just they couldn’t compete with the original conceptions for me. Even the teddy bear they got for Aloysius felt wrong! It’s sad that so many people’s perception of this film are so much under the influence of the TV serial, but that was just so with-it, perfectly capturing the very mood and feel of the novel.

This tries hard to recreate the sense of melancholy and nostalgia for youthful joys but just can’t match what has been done before. But even without that mighty expectation of matching the serial, this film just can’t truly convey the essence in the same way. Everything is seemingly held at arm’s length and in the end it just ends up at times becoming just a little bit, well, dull. There was no great change in me when seeing the transition from the playful days of Charles and Sebastian’s time together to Charles’s eventual marriage and later life, the mood just didn’t shift like it should. The framing device of Charles’s wartime visit to Brideshead is relatively absent from the film, making the rush of emotions he feels about the place feel less marked and definite. This makes me realise just how much insight Charles’s near omnipresent voiceover in the serial actually granted into the characters and the overall feelings of the time.

Of course the film has slightly different intentions and interests to the serial. Whilst that was more focused on Charles’s nostalgia for the past and about the decline of the aristocracy, the film prefers to explore the more modern sensibilities of the complexities of relationships, religion and sexuality. A lot of time is spent on the subtleties of Charles and Sebastian’s relationship; Sebastian is more definitely presented as homosexual in this but Charles instead is shown less questionably as heterosexual. The film skirts around the nature of their relationship which is implied in the novel as being romantic and possibly sexual; instead it is shown more as a close friendship, with Sebastian presented as infatuated with Charles but he instead seemingly interested in sister Julia (Hayley Atwell) from the start, glossing over the idea the novel proposes that Charles’s attraction to her might be mostly dictated by her similarity to Sebastian and her links with Brideshead, both of which mean so much to him.

This is a shame, for whilst this change does give a nice explanation for the sudden worsening of Sebastian’s alcoholism part-way through, it leaves him as being a more one-dimensional character, defined only by his alcohol addiction and his infatuation for Charles. Charles’s feelings for Sebastian are a lot less ambiguous; however there is refreshingly greater focus on his flaws, namely what he calls his “hunger” for affection and the sense of home and family that Brideshed offers, and the damage that he causes and it causes for him. The sexual tension between him and Julia is nicely foregrounded, and the tension this causes for her with her Catholic upbringing is one of the things this film handles best. Emma Thompson is excellent as usual as the icy matriarch Lady Marchmain, giving us a interesting look into how her religious domineering affects her children. We really see just how dysfunctional this family actually is, I felt more so than the serial.

But comparisons with the serial aside, Brideshead as a film just doesn’t work so well. The serial took 13 hours to adapt the book, examining in really close detail and taking a near-glacial pace which actually helps express the tone. This has only 2 hours, meaning sometimes it feels rushed. Yet despite this at other times it felt quite slow, as in not much was actually happening. It all looks beautiful, the production design is excellent; but that’s just what it comes down to: surface.

Sure, the interest on setting and costume is a feature of most period dramas, but here the characters and emotions never seem to break through enough to have much of an impact. We don’t get an entire sense of just how special Brideshead is to Charles, this being a motivation for much of the plot. The painting he does in the estate, his literal imprint in Brideshead, is never shown. The film by the end feels more like a conventional period romance, characterised by its love triangle, and not an especially exemplary one at that. The novel’s “gluttony, for food and wine, for the splendours of the recent past”, the very features that have defined it, are lost in this.

Originally posted on my previous blog on 25th May 2013