Yorkshire's Blossoms Are Beautiful to Behold

Earlier this year, I had planned to go to England for five and a half weeks this summer. Had this panned out, I would be “leavin’ on a jet plane” tomorrow. It didn’t, so I’m not. I have mixed feelings about this. But I’m determined to get to England again, and this time to see as much of the countryside as possible. That’s what I’m really in love with. The countryside of J. R. R. Tolkien and A. A. Milne and James Herriot. And, incidentally, the countryside of the movie I’m about to review.

A couple years ago, just after it came out, a friend of mine told me that she’d seen Calendar Girls and that it was a very good movie. I didn’t doubt her word, though the whole unclothed women premise caused me to raise my eyebrows. But my list of must-see movies is interminably long, so I didn’t get around to renting it until this year. It was my mom’s suggestion, actually, but when she pointed it out the bells in my head began to go off. So we rented it, along with a couple other movies, both of which I had a stronger urge to see. In the end, though, Calendar Girls got my vote as the best of the three movies we’d rented.

The plot, which is based on a true story, centers around a group of Yorkshire women, middle aged or older, who meet regularly for a variety of respectable, if often mind-numbingly dull, activities sponsored by the Women’s Institute in Knapely. Two of the participants, Chris (Helen Mirren) and Annie (Julie Walters), are especially fond of poking fun at the uninteresting guests found by their chapter’s severe leader, Marie (Geraldine James). The film takes a dark turn early on when Annie’s husband John (John Alderton) is diagnosed with cancer. We are allowed just enough of a glimpse of this gentle man before he succumbs to the disease that we are able to understand how much he meant not only to his wife but to the whole community. His kindness and eloquence are accentuated when, shortly after his death, Chris reads the speech he had intended to present at the next WI meeting. “The flowers of Yorkshire are like the women of Yorkshire,” she reads. “Every stage of their growth has its own beauty, but the last phase is always the most glorious.” Thus the seeds of inspiration are sown.

The bulk of the film chronicles the attempts of a small faction of these women, headed by the irrepressible Chris, to fashion a calendar featuring 12 Knapely women in that last glorious phase, bare as the day they were born. This presents some logistical problems, but the main obstacle is Marie, who is loath to put a stain on her chapter’s respectability. The women are determined, however, because they want to honor John’s memory and create a project whose proceeds can purchase a comfortable sofa for family members of cancer patients. The small undertaking blossoms into something far grander than any of them could have envisioned, leading to comical complications as well as a couple dramatic confrontations.

The calendar itself is an integral part of the movie, and even a prude like me had to admit it was pulled off quite artistically. Each page features one of the women doing some sort of everyday task that might normally be undertaken by the WI. Sewing, baking, playing the piano... Each one is arranged so that the woman in question is censored by the props around her. There’s a wry comedic element to each of the photographs, and overall it’s quite an impressive presentation. Visually speaking, though, what I enjoyed most about the film was the aforementioned countryside. Yorkshire is absolutely gorgeous. I could look at it all day. In fact, Calendar Girls is almost as good an advertisement for England as Lord of the Rings is for New Zealand.

The acting is very good all around, but my favorite member of the ensemble is John Alderton, in spite of the brevity of his presence on screen. His character pervades the remainder of the film and lends heart to all the amusing antics that follow the dawning of Chris’ unusual idea. There’s a bit of profanity, and obviously some nudity, but nothing much to get offended about. In fact, this film, like the Paul Stookey song Give a D***, is a perfect demonstrator of why prudishness is not always the best state of mind to maintain. More important is reveling in the gift that is life, especially if such an action can in turn bestow that gift upon others.