When, after great anticipation, I finally watched Finding Neverland, I was treated to a preview for a movie I’d never heard of. Entitled Dear Frankie,
it was a Scottish film about a deaf boy who corresponds continually
with his sailor father – or so he thinks. The letters are actually
written by his mother, who is trying to protect him from the fact that
his father is in reality an enraged jerk from whom she continues to
flee, and eventually she decides to cement the illusion by hiring
someone to portray the boy’s father for a day. The premise intrigued me,
and the fact that it was Scottish did not hurt one bit. As I’ve said on
so many other occasions, I could listen to a Scot talk all day.
Anyway, I thought it sounded like an interesting movie, but I didn’t
hear any more about it until I went to the video store last week and saw
it among the new releases. We were out in search of chick flicks, and
though this didn’t look like it fit the description precisely, it seemed
a good prospect. We watched The Prince and Me the first night and Dear Frankie the last night of our rental, and we wound up two for two. We should rent movies more often.
The look of the film is lovely, particularly in scenes when Frankie
(Jack McElhone) goes out to look out over the bay and we’re treated to
grand views of surrounding moors. Within the city, there is grittiness;
Frankie’s family is poor, and while they’re not exactly in the slums,
they’re certainly on the lower end of the middle class spectrum. Frankie
is an intelligent and affectionate child doted on by his mother Lizzie
(Emily Mortimer) and, to a lesser extent, his grandmother (Mary
Riggans), who knows and disapproves of Lizzie’s trickery. It’s a bit
like going to extraordinary lengths to convince your child to believe in
the Tooth Fairy or Santa Claus, and the longer the ruse continues, the
more painful ultimate revelation will be. But beyond Lizzie’s desire to
protect her son is an ulterior motive: because he does not speak,
receiving Frankie’s letters is the only way she can hear her son’s
voice.
Lizzie finds a confidante in Marie (Sharon Small), a
sprightly woman who convinces her to come work with her at a nearby
restaurant. Frankie has trouble adjusting to his class but finds a
kindred spirit in Catriona (Jayd Johnson), a friendly girl who happens
to know sign language. Less congenial is Ricky (Sean Brown), who
antagonizes Frankie and makes a bet with him that his dad will not stop
to see him when his boat docks in town for a few days. When Lizzie
learns of the bet – and the boat, whose name she had adopted for the
fictional boat from which Frankie’s dad writes – she is distraught and
embarks on an intimidating search for a man who will agree to be
Frankie’s father for a day. Complicating matters is the fact that
Frankie’s real father has fallen terminally ill and is desperately
searching for the family that fled him in order to make amends before
the end.
In the end, it’s Marie to the rescue, furnishing out
of thin air a man with, as Marie requests, “no past, no present and no
future.” And yet strangely possessing all the qualities she wishes
existed in Frankie’s real father. Gerard Butler, known to me as the Phantom
from the recent film version of Lloyd Weber’s masterpiece, is the
stranger, a quietly intuitive man who seems to know just what Frankie
needs. The man and boy bond so quickly that it’s easy to forget they are
not actually related, and you wonder at the marvelous luck that allowed
Lizzie to find such an incredibly gentle and generous man to give her
boy the thrill of a lifetime.
The truth of Frankie’s past is
the darkest part of the film, and Butler is truly heartbreaking as his
character reacts to Lizzie’s admission that Frankie’s father beat him
into deafness as an infant. But in the present day, there is pervasive
warmth and tenderness, and that is what remains at the conclusion of the
film in spite of the realizations that precede it. Americans may have
to pay extra close attention in order to comprehend the accents, but the
dialogue is worth the extra effort, and the tones are melodious as
always. There are a few profanities thrown about, but these are rare,
and there’s really very little in the film to render it inappropriate
for younger audiences. Dear Frankie is a fine family film with just a touch of fairy dust thrown in to make it fly.
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