vanity fair
The first semi-serious movie of the fall has been pushed into obscurity by lukewarm to bad reviews and big horror flicks: Vanity Fair, starring Reese Witherspoon as Thackeray's anti-heroine Becky Sharp and directed by Bollywood inspired Mira Nair. It isn't nearly as horrendous as critics would have the public believe, but it still has its fair share of flaws. The Breakdown:
PROS
1. Rrowr! Hoity-toity ladies bear their claws. With Mr. Julian Fellowes consulting on the script, is it any wonder that the cattiness factor is high? You can pick out his additions in the script with accuracy. "Humor of a corpse?" Sounds about right. The script is not without tiny gems, spread throughout. You would think that a novel that is based upon a back-stabbing social climber would include more biting remarks, but sadly, it degenerates into a lot of scandalized looks and pointed glares.
2. Supporting Actor/Actress Nods? The supporting cast was astounding (though it is a bit unfortunate that all of my favorites manage to get themselves dead at some point throughout the film). Jonathan Rhys-Meyers, bearing acting chops only guessed at in Bend It Like Beckham and the same handsome face (sigh), plays Captain George Osbourne, the worthless young soldier who Amelia Sedley, Becky's only friend, is besotted with. (Jim Broadbent is wasted, the horror!, as Osbourne's tyrannical and aspiring father.) Romola Garai is shaping up to take the Corset Queen title away from Helena Bonham-Carter in yet another turn as a meek and kind-hearted lady, this time Amelia Sedley. James Purefoy, another vet of the small period film (Tom from Mansfield Park- and isn't it sad that I know that?) is enchanting as the rakish Rawdon Crawley, Becky's husband. (Yum-worthy. Keep him on the watch-list, ladies.)
However. The Scene-Stealers are as follows:
A) Dame Eileen Atkins as Ancient Aunt Crawley, lover of the deliciously impertinent, yet ultimately practical in matters of money. She has the best lines in the film (ten to one they're written by Mr. Fellowes; there are shades of Maggie Smith's Gosford Park performance about her -- could it be a coincidence that Ms. Atkins was in that movie too, as the lowly cook?)
B) Bob Hoskins as the considerably unrefined Sir Pitt Crawley. His marriage proposal to Becky is hilarious; keep an eye on his various incredulous expressions throughout the film- they're priceless.
C) Rhys Ifans as Amelia's perpetual suitor Major William Dobbin. He is the one stretching his acting skills in this film, ladies and gentlemen, never mind that Witherspoon girl. It is heartbreaking to see him go through scenes with such hope and desolation, creating a poignant depiction of unrequited love that (thank heaven!) is NOT gratuitously angsty and pocked with long brooding stares.
D) Geraldine McEwan's very squeaky interpretation of Lady Southdown. The "erhmm"ing and Witherspoon's spot-on imitation of it is one of the funniest bits of the movie.
E) Tony Maudsley and his hysterical outfits as Jos Sedley. A bit part actor who in this case, made the most of his role. Every time he turned up with his cyan, oversized lapels and a befuddled expression on his chubby face, I laughed. (And surprisingly, being one of the few characters I recognized from the book, I had a great deal more sympathy for him than for other characters.) Moment to watch: when Becky strings magenta thread all over his face, the pinnacle of silliness.
3. Music to soothe the savage aristocrat. Do not mistake the score for one of Rachel Portman's, though Mychael Danna's strains are similiar. (And do not mistake the beautiful voice of Custer LaRue for Witherspoon's own singing in instances like "Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal.") Period-ish music, Indian-inspired tunes and the melancholic "She Walks in Beauty" sung by Norwegian soprano Sissel round out the soundtrack. A bit repetitive, but a very worthy buy.
4. Pwetti credits. So Spielberg thinks they're useless, huh? Thank goodness Nair didn't take his advice. The opening sequence is elegant in the extreme, thanks to some minimalistic photography that's good enough to eat and Sissel's soaring strains. Keep an eye out for the tiny inside touches: when Gabriel Byrne's screen credit appears, a hand is fondling strings of pearls, a reference to the wealth of his character, the Marquess of Steyne. Is it any wonder that Nair's other project Hysterical Blindness won awards for best title design?
CONS
1. Bollywood Thackeray is not. You have to give Mira Nair props for being gutsy with her adaptation. However, she fails to convince me that repressed British ladies of early 17th century high society would condescend to an upstart's bright idea to romp around half-naked to sitar music in front of the Prince of Wales. Sorry. Don't buy it.
2. Where did the elephant come from? The book (so I am told, because I only started it about 7 years ago, got through a chapter or two and then gave up) does not have a happy ending. Becky and Jos aren't supposed to ride off in the New Delhi sunset on an elephant (see Con #1). In fact, in the book Jos dies under, let us say, suspicious circumstances that Becky may or may not have had something to do with. Thackeray created an anti-heroine, folks: she is supposed to be immoral, bitchy and back-stabbing. Yet in an attempt to make us sympathieze with our heroine, half of her questionable deeds were turned around to make her soul clean as a whistle-- poor Becky Sharp, victim of circumstance, but my, does she love her husband. I don't bloody think so. The book makes it very clear that Sharp is incapable of love, has no feelings towards her husband, and is considerably more vicious in her career to society's uppercrust.
Another qualm that I've heard from the brave lads and lassies that have read the novel is the dropping of the main "Fool's Gold" theme: the idea that the object of great desire never tends to be worth all that struggle in the first place. Case in point: Amelia and Dobbin. They are the great romance of the novel, reverted to side-plot in the movie. Dobbin pines after Amelia, Amelia pines after George and George Jr., George and George Jr. would rather see Amelia jump in a lake. While left happily embracing one another (an apparent happy ending), the book reveals that Dobbin eventually sees how fickle and naive Amelia truly is, and is a bit put out by this discovery.
Long story short: all these characters are extremely messed up individuals who couldn't find a happy ending with a compass and a native guide, yet the movie would have you believe that things end right as rain.
3. Consistency is a director's friend, not an enemy. Most directors say "I looked at X and that really inspired the look of my film." It is very hard to tell what Nair did NOT look at in her hodge-podge of visual styles. Alternatively sumptuous and sparse, British and Indian, restrained and flamboyant, it is a film that can't make up its mind. Which is essentially the plight of the heroine, trapped between poverty and the elite, belonging to neither. But since the style doesn't juxtapose these ideas, or highlight them with sets and costumes and etc., the result still remains essentially semi-pretty but not really visually interesting.
4. Plot? What plot? Granted, in this epic novels from bygone days, you can't include everything or your audience will fall asleep around hour three and start committing suicide around hour twelve. But you have to tie it together with something. Nair's Fair is episodic- like tiny miniseries squashed together (This week on Vanity Fair- Becky goes to war!). Hence the dire need for a thematic thread, which of course never appears. Take a page out of the perfect Ms. Thompson's book (and her splendid adaptation of Sense and Sensibility): Everything revolves around money. We modern folks will relate, believe me.
5. Was it supposed to be a comedy-drama or just drama? I'm the last person to cleave to genre markers, but really, was the film supposed to be funny? Because I laughed a lot, and I'm not sure if that was what TPTB had in mind. Just FYI.
In the end, Witherspoon turns in the same-old performance as a feisty single gal with charm (since the viciousness got x-nayed somewhere along the line) and an English accent, supported by lovely people in a plot that meanders anywhere and everywhere, so long as it wasn't in the book. Okay to rent, but think twice about it in the theaters.
PROS
1. Rrowr! Hoity-toity ladies bear their claws. With Mr. Julian Fellowes consulting on the script, is it any wonder that the cattiness factor is high? You can pick out his additions in the script with accuracy. "Humor of a corpse?" Sounds about right. The script is not without tiny gems, spread throughout. You would think that a novel that is based upon a back-stabbing social climber would include more biting remarks, but sadly, it degenerates into a lot of scandalized looks and pointed glares.
2. Supporting Actor/Actress Nods? The supporting cast was astounding (though it is a bit unfortunate that all of my favorites manage to get themselves dead at some point throughout the film). Jonathan Rhys-Meyers, bearing acting chops only guessed at in Bend It Like Beckham and the same handsome face (sigh), plays Captain George Osbourne, the worthless young soldier who Amelia Sedley, Becky's only friend, is besotted with. (Jim Broadbent is wasted, the horror!, as Osbourne's tyrannical and aspiring father.) Romola Garai is shaping up to take the Corset Queen title away from Helena Bonham-Carter in yet another turn as a meek and kind-hearted lady, this time Amelia Sedley. James Purefoy, another vet of the small period film (Tom from Mansfield Park- and isn't it sad that I know that?) is enchanting as the rakish Rawdon Crawley, Becky's husband. (Yum-worthy. Keep him on the watch-list, ladies.)
However. The Scene-Stealers are as follows:
A) Dame Eileen Atkins as Ancient Aunt Crawley, lover of the deliciously impertinent, yet ultimately practical in matters of money. She has the best lines in the film (ten to one they're written by Mr. Fellowes; there are shades of Maggie Smith's Gosford Park performance about her -- could it be a coincidence that Ms. Atkins was in that movie too, as the lowly cook?)
B) Bob Hoskins as the considerably unrefined Sir Pitt Crawley. His marriage proposal to Becky is hilarious; keep an eye on his various incredulous expressions throughout the film- they're priceless.
C) Rhys Ifans as Amelia's perpetual suitor Major William Dobbin. He is the one stretching his acting skills in this film, ladies and gentlemen, never mind that Witherspoon girl. It is heartbreaking to see him go through scenes with such hope and desolation, creating a poignant depiction of unrequited love that (thank heaven!) is NOT gratuitously angsty and pocked with long brooding stares.
D) Geraldine McEwan's very squeaky interpretation of Lady Southdown. The "erhmm"ing and Witherspoon's spot-on imitation of it is one of the funniest bits of the movie.
E) Tony Maudsley and his hysterical outfits as Jos Sedley. A bit part actor who in this case, made the most of his role. Every time he turned up with his cyan, oversized lapels and a befuddled expression on his chubby face, I laughed. (And surprisingly, being one of the few characters I recognized from the book, I had a great deal more sympathy for him than for other characters.) Moment to watch: when Becky strings magenta thread all over his face, the pinnacle of silliness.
3. Music to soothe the savage aristocrat. Do not mistake the score for one of Rachel Portman's, though Mychael Danna's strains are similiar. (And do not mistake the beautiful voice of Custer LaRue for Witherspoon's own singing in instances like "Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal.") Period-ish music, Indian-inspired tunes and the melancholic "She Walks in Beauty" sung by Norwegian soprano Sissel round out the soundtrack. A bit repetitive, but a very worthy buy.
4. Pwetti credits. So Spielberg thinks they're useless, huh? Thank goodness Nair didn't take his advice. The opening sequence is elegant in the extreme, thanks to some minimalistic photography that's good enough to eat and Sissel's soaring strains. Keep an eye out for the tiny inside touches: when Gabriel Byrne's screen credit appears, a hand is fondling strings of pearls, a reference to the wealth of his character, the Marquess of Steyne. Is it any wonder that Nair's other project Hysterical Blindness won awards for best title design?
CONS
1. Bollywood Thackeray is not. You have to give Mira Nair props for being gutsy with her adaptation. However, she fails to convince me that repressed British ladies of early 17th century high society would condescend to an upstart's bright idea to romp around half-naked to sitar music in front of the Prince of Wales. Sorry. Don't buy it.
2. Where did the elephant come from? The book (so I am told, because I only started it about 7 years ago, got through a chapter or two and then gave up) does not have a happy ending. Becky and Jos aren't supposed to ride off in the New Delhi sunset on an elephant (see Con #1). In fact, in the book Jos dies under, let us say, suspicious circumstances that Becky may or may not have had something to do with. Thackeray created an anti-heroine, folks: she is supposed to be immoral, bitchy and back-stabbing. Yet in an attempt to make us sympathieze with our heroine, half of her questionable deeds were turned around to make her soul clean as a whistle-- poor Becky Sharp, victim of circumstance, but my, does she love her husband. I don't bloody think so. The book makes it very clear that Sharp is incapable of love, has no feelings towards her husband, and is considerably more vicious in her career to society's uppercrust.
Another qualm that I've heard from the brave lads and lassies that have read the novel is the dropping of the main "Fool's Gold" theme: the idea that the object of great desire never tends to be worth all that struggle in the first place. Case in point: Amelia and Dobbin. They are the great romance of the novel, reverted to side-plot in the movie. Dobbin pines after Amelia, Amelia pines after George and George Jr., George and George Jr. would rather see Amelia jump in a lake. While left happily embracing one another (an apparent happy ending), the book reveals that Dobbin eventually sees how fickle and naive Amelia truly is, and is a bit put out by this discovery.
Long story short: all these characters are extremely messed up individuals who couldn't find a happy ending with a compass and a native guide, yet the movie would have you believe that things end right as rain.
3. Consistency is a director's friend, not an enemy. Most directors say "I looked at X and that really inspired the look of my film." It is very hard to tell what Nair did NOT look at in her hodge-podge of visual styles. Alternatively sumptuous and sparse, British and Indian, restrained and flamboyant, it is a film that can't make up its mind. Which is essentially the plight of the heroine, trapped between poverty and the elite, belonging to neither. But since the style doesn't juxtapose these ideas, or highlight them with sets and costumes and etc., the result still remains essentially semi-pretty but not really visually interesting.
4. Plot? What plot? Granted, in this epic novels from bygone days, you can't include everything or your audience will fall asleep around hour three and start committing suicide around hour twelve. But you have to tie it together with something. Nair's Fair is episodic- like tiny miniseries squashed together (This week on Vanity Fair- Becky goes to war!). Hence the dire need for a thematic thread, which of course never appears. Take a page out of the perfect Ms. Thompson's book (and her splendid adaptation of Sense and Sensibility): Everything revolves around money. We modern folks will relate, believe me.
5. Was it supposed to be a comedy-drama or just drama? I'm the last person to cleave to genre markers, but really, was the film supposed to be funny? Because I laughed a lot, and I'm not sure if that was what TPTB had in mind. Just FYI.
In the end, Witherspoon turns in the same-old performance as a feisty single gal with charm (since the viciousness got x-nayed somewhere along the line) and an English accent, supported by lovely people in a plot that meanders anywhere and everywhere, so long as it wasn't in the book. Okay to rent, but think twice about it in the theaters.
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