What’s in a name? I’ve always found names and their meanings
fascinating, and I love the connection mine has with both Ireland and
peace. But would I still be me if I were Jane or Mary? And would other
people see me the same way?
In Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest,
a name is very significant indeed. Two young ladies share the same
curious fixation: they have always dreamed of marrying a man named
Ernest. There’s just a certain something in the name that inspires
confidence. (I stifled a giggle and forced myself to remember, as I
watched the 2002 film adaptation written and directed by Oliver Parker,
that this story predates Ernest P. Worrell
by nearly a century.) Both of them do fall in love with Ernests, but
there’s just one hitch: neither of them is actually named Ernest.
Colin Firth
plays Jack, a generally decent fellow who divides his time between the
country and London. But he has a secret. He takes his leave of the
country by claiming to visit his brother Ernest in town, but his brother
doesn’t actually exist. Instead, he takes on the name Ernest while in
London. Meanwhile, his friend Algy, played by Rupert Everett, often gets
out of social obligations by claiming a need to visit his nonexistent
invalid friend, Bunbury, in the country.
Algy’s cousin Gwendolyn (Frances O’Connor) loves Jack, but her imperious mother, played by Judi Dench,
insists upon approving him first, and she finds his shadowy family
history most unsatisfactory. Dench, in the movie’s standout performance,
savors each of her lines, milking them for maximum intimidation and
wit. She’s a force to contend with, and matters soon become more
complicated when the rather unscrupulous Algy turns up at Jack’s country
estate pretending to be Ernest, leading him to instantly win the
affections of impulsive daydreamer Cicely (Reese Witherspoon), Jack’s
ward.
This fast-paced farce reminded me of one of my favorite M*A*S*H
episodes, in which Hawkeye invents a captain by the name of Tuttle and
finds it increasingly difficult to maintain the ruse of his existence.
Here, we have two phony people and two real people using phony names.
Naturally, keeping all that straight is just about impossible, and Firth
and Everett are hilarious as the friends try to wade their way out of
the mess they have made. While the film is more comical than romantic,
the couples are believable, and I found the subplot about the affection
between Cicely’s tutor, Miss Prism (Anna Massey), and the local rector,
Dr. Chasuble (Tom Wilkinson), quite touching.
Absurd
circumstances, sharp wordplay and piercing social commentary all combine
to make this a very funny adaptation of a literary classic. The actors
seem to relish their roles, and the direction helps the movie have
contemporary appeal despite the 19th-century setting. All in all, not a
bad way to get Wilde.
Showing posts with label Judi Dench. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Judi Dench. Show all posts
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Anthony Hopkins and Anne Bancroft Nurture a Long-Distance Friendship in 84 Charing Cross Road
The other day, I watched The Shop Around the Corner,
the 1940 movie starring Jimmy Stewart and Margaret Sullavan as two
quarrelsome shop employees who don’t realize that they’re falling in
love with each other through correspondence. I presume this movie was
the reason my eyes settled upon 84 Charing Cross Road when I was
browsing Netflix’s Instant Viewing selections last night. It’s also the
main reason I expected a romance - though Netflix’s categorization
explains some of that too. This engrossing film starring Anne Bancroft
and Anthony Hopkins really isn’t a romance at all, but it is the story
of a profound friendship blooming between two people on different
continents.
Bancroft plays Helene Hanff, a fiery script reader (and eventual writer) scraping a living in New York City. Her great passion is English literature, and we watch her pound the pavement, checking out every bookstore in town and finding that each comes up short on offering what she’s really looking for. In desperation, she writes to an "antiquarian" bookshop in London with a list of books and a request to send her any that can be sold for less than five dollars a piece. Frank P. Doel, senior bookseller at this establishment, sends two of the requested books immediately, and at a very reasonable price. And so an international friendship is born.
This movie, based on a true story, spans about 20 years and is told almost entirely through letters. Usually it’s Bancroft or Hopkins speaking, but eventually others in the bookshop, along with Frank’s wife Nora (Judi Dench), write to Helene as well. All of them are fascinated by her letters, written with such spunk and wit, and grateful for the packages she sends for holidays, particularly because of the food rationing going on in England at the time. I was a little disappointed when I realized that Frank was married; I envisioned a fairly lengthy correspondence, followed by Helene finally coming to London (which we see her do in the film’s opening scene) and throwing herself into Frank’s waiting arms. Not quite. But the fact that half a dozen others are caught up in the excitement of this letter exchange makes it even more interesting. Frank is still her primary correspondent, but eventually she has a sizable group waiting to welcome her to London for a visit.
I found myself reminded of the opening scenes of Up as I watched, since Helene’s dream of going to London is so often set aside for mundane expenses like rent and root canals. Initially, she intends to visit a couple of years into their correspondence, but life gets in the way. As the years wear on, various members of the bookstore staff die or move on to other jobs, and the big question becomes whether she will make it to London in time to meet Frank, a typically reserved Hopkins character whose emotional attachment to Helene is nonetheless plainly apparent as he reads her letters and composes his.
Bancroft is very funny in her role as this independent woman who knows exactly what she wants. Her letters are often bitingly sarcastic; she never bothers to hide her disdain for poorly edited or abridged copies of books, and her caustic observations bear the mark of a high intellect. Yet Frank, who nearly always sends the books first and encloses an invoice, never gets any of the books back. Even if she loathes the copy he found for her, she keeps it and pays him accordingly, though usually sternly instructing him to find her something better. His letters are much more restrained than hers; he never loses his professionalism, though he sometimes allows himself a sly remark or two. Even more than his words, his tireless efforts to find the books she desires, and his refusal to charge her a penny more than necessary, demonstrate his dedication to his vocation and his special fondness for her.
Because this movie stretches across two decades, there is a bittersweet edge to it, but it’s a lovely film that never becomes boring, at least for someone who loves literature and who understands the power of friendships born through correspondence. It’s also an interesting peek into history, as significant events, from the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II to protests at Columbia University, punctuate the more intimate details of Frank and Helene’s lives. The supporting cast all do a fine job, especially Ian McNiece as Frank’s right-hand man, Bill Humphries, but this movie really lies in the hands, or rather tongues, of Hopkins and Bancroft, two celebrated actors who I’ve rarely enjoyed more. Next time you’re looking for a cozy, intellectually stimulating movie, consider a visit to 84 Charing Cross Road.
Bancroft plays Helene Hanff, a fiery script reader (and eventual writer) scraping a living in New York City. Her great passion is English literature, and we watch her pound the pavement, checking out every bookstore in town and finding that each comes up short on offering what she’s really looking for. In desperation, she writes to an "antiquarian" bookshop in London with a list of books and a request to send her any that can be sold for less than five dollars a piece. Frank P. Doel, senior bookseller at this establishment, sends two of the requested books immediately, and at a very reasonable price. And so an international friendship is born.
This movie, based on a true story, spans about 20 years and is told almost entirely through letters. Usually it’s Bancroft or Hopkins speaking, but eventually others in the bookshop, along with Frank’s wife Nora (Judi Dench), write to Helene as well. All of them are fascinated by her letters, written with such spunk and wit, and grateful for the packages she sends for holidays, particularly because of the food rationing going on in England at the time. I was a little disappointed when I realized that Frank was married; I envisioned a fairly lengthy correspondence, followed by Helene finally coming to London (which we see her do in the film’s opening scene) and throwing herself into Frank’s waiting arms. Not quite. But the fact that half a dozen others are caught up in the excitement of this letter exchange makes it even more interesting. Frank is still her primary correspondent, but eventually she has a sizable group waiting to welcome her to London for a visit.
I found myself reminded of the opening scenes of Up as I watched, since Helene’s dream of going to London is so often set aside for mundane expenses like rent and root canals. Initially, she intends to visit a couple of years into their correspondence, but life gets in the way. As the years wear on, various members of the bookstore staff die or move on to other jobs, and the big question becomes whether she will make it to London in time to meet Frank, a typically reserved Hopkins character whose emotional attachment to Helene is nonetheless plainly apparent as he reads her letters and composes his.
Bancroft is very funny in her role as this independent woman who knows exactly what she wants. Her letters are often bitingly sarcastic; she never bothers to hide her disdain for poorly edited or abridged copies of books, and her caustic observations bear the mark of a high intellect. Yet Frank, who nearly always sends the books first and encloses an invoice, never gets any of the books back. Even if she loathes the copy he found for her, she keeps it and pays him accordingly, though usually sternly instructing him to find her something better. His letters are much more restrained than hers; he never loses his professionalism, though he sometimes allows himself a sly remark or two. Even more than his words, his tireless efforts to find the books she desires, and his refusal to charge her a penny more than necessary, demonstrate his dedication to his vocation and his special fondness for her.
Because this movie stretches across two decades, there is a bittersweet edge to it, but it’s a lovely film that never becomes boring, at least for someone who loves literature and who understands the power of friendships born through correspondence. It’s also an interesting peek into history, as significant events, from the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II to protests at Columbia University, punctuate the more intimate details of Frank and Helene’s lives. The supporting cast all do a fine job, especially Ian McNiece as Frank’s right-hand man, Bill Humphries, but this movie really lies in the hands, or rather tongues, of Hopkins and Bancroft, two celebrated actors who I’ve rarely enjoyed more. Next time you’re looking for a cozy, intellectually stimulating movie, consider a visit to 84 Charing Cross Road.
Wednesday, July 14, 2004
Yodeling Rustlers and Udderly Tasteless Jokes
There was a time when my family never missed a Disney feature animated
film in the theater, but lately we’ve been more likely to catch their
latest movies on video or DVD. There are still a couple I haven’t
watched at all. So I was glad when I was presented with an opportunity
to go see Home on the Range with my brother last week. Dad came
along, and the three of us made up half the audience in the dollar
theater, leaving me freer to react to some of the film’s wackiness in
kind.
The first striking thing about Home on the Range is the animation. It was the animation style, along with the Disney name, that most attracted me to Brother Bear as well, though that animation is much more lush and realistic. Home on the Range has a retro look reminiscent of 101 Dalmatians or The Aristocats but even more exaggerated. The characters, particularly the barnyard residents of the ranch known as Little Patch of Heaven, are stylized with lots of distinct shapes and bright colors. The soundtrack appropriately features a number of country stars, and it was nice to see music a bigger part of this movie than it has been in most recent films.
The story focuses on three heroic heifers: Mrs. Calloway (Judi Dench), the stuffy matriarch of Little Patch of Heaven; Grace (Jennifer Tilly), a timid and gentle cow with a fondness for singing off-key; and Maggie (Roseanne Barr), the spunky newcomer to the ranch who hatches their plan. Little Patch of Heaven is about to be auctioned off because the owner, Pearl (Carole Cook), can’t afford the $750 payment needed to keep it. Everybody in these parts is suffering because a low-down cattle rustler named Alameda Slim (Randy Quaid) has swiped everybody’s herds. When Maggie learns that there’s a $750 reward out for him, she’s all too eager to make chase. Not only would the money save the farm, she would have her revenge on the man who ruined her former owner.
The three cows are different enough that there is plenty of opportunity for some entertaining banter among them. They also have a friendly rivalry with Buck (Cuba Gooding, Jr.), the self-important horse belonging to the kindly sheriff (Richard Riehle) who idolizes bounty hunter Rico (Charles Dennis). Other characters include Lucky Jack (Charles Haid), a peg-legged jackrabbit who helps the ladies in their rustler-catching endeavors; Audrey (Estelle Harris), an abrasive chicken with a tendency toward panic; Jeb (Joe Flaherty), an ornery old goat who fights with the barnyard youngsters, particularly the adorable triplet piglets; and Junior (Lance LeGault), a deep-voiced buffalo who guards the entrance to Slim’s lair. The film is mostly comedy, with plenty of pratfalls and fast-paced action, particularly a sequence toward the end in a mine shaft. It’s hard to take a movie with martial arts-performing cows too seriously.
I’m not sure what to make of the fact that Disney seems to be moving away from G-rated films. There was a spattering of adult humor in Home on the Range, just enough to move it out of the G range. Is it really necessary to have cheap shots like udder jokes? I don’t think they enhanced the movie at all. Probably I got the biggest laughs out of the villains. I loved the Willies (Sam Levine), Slim’s identical triplet sidekicks with blond bangs covering their eyes. These three don’t talk much, and when they do they tend to say the same dumb things over and over. They are clearly not very bright but they don’t seem to be malicious either. They’re just working with Slim because he’s their uncle. Slim, meanwhile, threw me for a loop. The first impression of him is of a menacing, glowering presence, nobody you’d want to cross paths with. He comes across as a pretty intimidating villain until he unexpectedly breaks out into exuberant yodeling while psychedelically flashing, googly-eyed cattle parade across the screen. This musical sequence struck me as so ludicrous that I found myself in tears, falling off my chair, while my dad and brother looked at me worriedly.
I don’t think Home on the Range is going to go down in history as a great Disney classic. It lacks the fluid animation and emotional resonance of The Lion King and other animated features whose place in the Disney canon is assured. But it was an entertaining film, certainly worth the dollar we paid to see it. And any movie that includes a psychedelic yodeling sequence is okay by me.
The first striking thing about Home on the Range is the animation. It was the animation style, along with the Disney name, that most attracted me to Brother Bear as well, though that animation is much more lush and realistic. Home on the Range has a retro look reminiscent of 101 Dalmatians or The Aristocats but even more exaggerated. The characters, particularly the barnyard residents of the ranch known as Little Patch of Heaven, are stylized with lots of distinct shapes and bright colors. The soundtrack appropriately features a number of country stars, and it was nice to see music a bigger part of this movie than it has been in most recent films.
The story focuses on three heroic heifers: Mrs. Calloway (Judi Dench), the stuffy matriarch of Little Patch of Heaven; Grace (Jennifer Tilly), a timid and gentle cow with a fondness for singing off-key; and Maggie (Roseanne Barr), the spunky newcomer to the ranch who hatches their plan. Little Patch of Heaven is about to be auctioned off because the owner, Pearl (Carole Cook), can’t afford the $750 payment needed to keep it. Everybody in these parts is suffering because a low-down cattle rustler named Alameda Slim (Randy Quaid) has swiped everybody’s herds. When Maggie learns that there’s a $750 reward out for him, she’s all too eager to make chase. Not only would the money save the farm, she would have her revenge on the man who ruined her former owner.
The three cows are different enough that there is plenty of opportunity for some entertaining banter among them. They also have a friendly rivalry with Buck (Cuba Gooding, Jr.), the self-important horse belonging to the kindly sheriff (Richard Riehle) who idolizes bounty hunter Rico (Charles Dennis). Other characters include Lucky Jack (Charles Haid), a peg-legged jackrabbit who helps the ladies in their rustler-catching endeavors; Audrey (Estelle Harris), an abrasive chicken with a tendency toward panic; Jeb (Joe Flaherty), an ornery old goat who fights with the barnyard youngsters, particularly the adorable triplet piglets; and Junior (Lance LeGault), a deep-voiced buffalo who guards the entrance to Slim’s lair. The film is mostly comedy, with plenty of pratfalls and fast-paced action, particularly a sequence toward the end in a mine shaft. It’s hard to take a movie with martial arts-performing cows too seriously.
I’m not sure what to make of the fact that Disney seems to be moving away from G-rated films. There was a spattering of adult humor in Home on the Range, just enough to move it out of the G range. Is it really necessary to have cheap shots like udder jokes? I don’t think they enhanced the movie at all. Probably I got the biggest laughs out of the villains. I loved the Willies (Sam Levine), Slim’s identical triplet sidekicks with blond bangs covering their eyes. These three don’t talk much, and when they do they tend to say the same dumb things over and over. They are clearly not very bright but they don’t seem to be malicious either. They’re just working with Slim because he’s their uncle. Slim, meanwhile, threw me for a loop. The first impression of him is of a menacing, glowering presence, nobody you’d want to cross paths with. He comes across as a pretty intimidating villain until he unexpectedly breaks out into exuberant yodeling while psychedelically flashing, googly-eyed cattle parade across the screen. This musical sequence struck me as so ludicrous that I found myself in tears, falling off my chair, while my dad and brother looked at me worriedly.
I don’t think Home on the Range is going to go down in history as a great Disney classic. It lacks the fluid animation and emotional resonance of The Lion King and other animated features whose place in the Disney canon is assured. But it was an entertaining film, certainly worth the dollar we paid to see it. And any movie that includes a psychedelic yodeling sequence is okay by me.
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