Showing posts with label Simon Russell Beale. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Simon Russell Beale. Show all posts

Monday, 28 January 2019

Some responses to Mary, Queen of Scots (2018)

Some responses to Mary, Queen of Scots (2018)

More views of - or before - Cambridge Film Festival 2018 (25 October to 1 November)
(Click here to go directly to the Festival web-site)


28 January

Some responses to Mary, Queen of Scots (2018)


From @JimGR's review :

The true issue is [the face-to-face meeting] is shot more like a perfume advert : bed sheets artfully hung everywhere to obscure the women’s view both literally and metaphorically, gently brushed aside one at a time in soft light.




[The review by Jim Ross (@JimGR), for TAKE ONE, can be found here]


Whether this scene is also referencing such things as David Inshaw’s The Badminton Game (1972-1973), or The Draughtsman’s Contract (1982), one doubts that the impetus for including it is John Guy’s book Queen of Scots : The True Life of Mary Stuart, on which the film says that it is based. Between them, first-time director Josie Rourke and first-time screenwriter Beau Willimon have decided to structure their film by having all the politicking that was to come about after Mary’s being taken into ‘protective custody’ - including what ensued by way of investigation into the death of Henry Stuart, Lord Darnley, and the circumstances in which it happened - subsumed into cinematic imagery that invokes mirrors and confusion, and then, as the shoot-out, resolved by an over-frank discussion that supposedly, at this moment, gave Elizabeth determination (which had been seen long eluding her)¹.



It is as if they have built backwards from this point to determine what the scope of the rest of the film will be (where they make simplifications to the established fact (e.g. the fact that Mary had to break out of prison), and truncate time (such as the that between the death of Darnlet and her marriage to Bothwell), yet with no good reason – as Jim Ross says, the scene feels out of place, and, in #UCFF's view, it is sentimental, and overladen with meaning and portents.


People want drama, but they never met so they could never explain their motives to one another - that is one of the triggers that lead to Mary's death, she could never explain her motives or what happened in her own life before her death.

When in the film she says she considers Elizabeth as her inferior - she would never have said that to her face. And then Elizabeth is seen crying? She would never have done that, she would have flipped. ~ Dr Estelle Paranque [quoted in The Telegraph]


In The Lady from Shanghai (1947), the mirror-scene [the link is to YouTube] had a context, however, of the actual interplay between Elsa Bannister (Rita Hayworth, as the titular Lady), Michael O’Hara (Orson Welles), Arthur Bannister (Everett Sloane) and others, whereas Queen of Scots effectively has none, except the jockeying between the English and Scottish courts², and some messages and portraits passed between the queens (inevitably reminding, as in the case of Elizabeth’s father and Anne of Cleves, that portraits were the closest to photographs, but could mislead).



The film is not quite as lacking in being even handed as this, but the implication is that Mary is a force of nature, and, when confronted with her, Elizabeth has no doubt that she will and must clip her wings


For them to really work out who was who was never, except in the case of the Welles, part of and a vindication of the film that preceded this point, because Mary and Elizabeth have no actual past other than at a remove. A few moments of hide and seek and then seeing each other has Mary say stupid things to the cousin whom she expects to help her such as that Elizabeth is her inferior, and Elizabeth concluding that the qualities for which she was envious of Mary are actually what have brought about her downfall. Willimon and Rourke want to root everything that happened hereafter in this moment, at the point when Mary has come to England to be supported to get her throne back (as she is no longer Queen of Scots, and her son James is her half-brother’s ward), and the result is to highlight the artificiality with which they have differently portrayed the lives of Mary and Elizabeth.

It does not cement what we have seen of this Queen of Scots martyr-figure (King of the Jews ?), but unpicks the joins in the film, because we all know enough to understand that there was a whole world to what went on regarding Mary when she was in England¹, which cannot be sketched in with three captions. (And it cannot be sketched in by Simon Russell-Beale, sounding Shakespearean and, as with Lowden, not of a piece, because we probably know that the demise of Mary was as much a botch as that of Charles I : having seen how the film theatricalizes what Mary was wearing when she died, and then read an account, one marvels at what this cabaret-style presentation is for.)


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Other things grated, too. The music of the two courts seemed woefully undifferentiated, as if they did not have different classical traditions. Sometimes, spotting the historic interiors was more interesting than the massed action that went on in them - with the script's uneven modern inflections and idiom (especially in the case of Darnley) just a distraction from both.




Darnley, played by Jack Lowden, seemed intent on rendering the part as if he were Eddie Izzard³, and his lines and manner just grated – fine that the film made gestures in the direction of theatricals and other entertainments for royalty at the time, but too much there was out of register. As John Knox, there appeared to be an element of historicity to what we see, but David Tennant was still ‘hammy’ with his acting⁴, and he is implausibly thrust into the first formal court appearance over which Mary seeks to preside (with the emphasis much on the 'seeking to') and the rough-hewn nature of those proceedings (not least compared with those in England).

Finally, the film is called Mary, Queen of Scots, seems to want to flesh out her claims as a worthwhile figure (if something of a victim ?), and at the same time not very unobviously point up some matters that, then as now, affect how England and Scotland relate to each other. How has the film benefited us, though, rather than our watching it benefited its makers ?


End-notes :

¹ Which, in no clear way, explains why Mary was taken into Elizabeth's protection on 18 May 1568, but did not die until 8 February 1587.

² And wanting to depict Mary as playful, fun-loving and affectionate, whereas Elizabeth simply is not, and largely accedes to what her advisers suggest (and puts an intense amount of trust in William Cecil, who, played here by Guy Pearce, may have been a powerful politician, but gave the impression of being either past it or from some very bygone age - despite Elizabeth's factually being his elder by thirteen years), is the facile contention that the film wants to make for much of its run-time.



³ Not the Izzard who is a pefectly competent actor, but he of his stage-act, lampooning the utility of Le Francais d'aujourd'hui with Le singe est dans l'arbre.

⁴ He has an attentive congregation, but, for some reason, in a tiny church building.




Unless stated otherwise, all films reviewed were screened at Festival Central (Arts Picturehouse, Cambridge),

Saturday, 15 April 2017

Tweets from Easter at King's 2017

Tweets from Easter at King's 2017 (and a night at Cambridge Modern Jazz)

More views of - or before - Cambridge Film Festival 2016 (20 to 27 October)
(Click here to go directly to the Festival web-site)


Tweets from Easter at King's 2017 (and a night at Cambridge Modern Jazz)





Tuesday 11 April :








Wednesday 12 April :










Maundy Thursday [at Cambridge Modern Jazz, with Arnie Somogy's 'Jump Monk' Quintet] ~ 13 April :



Not in any formally aleatoric way, but just because that was how pieces had fallen from, and been restored to, his music-stand, leader Arnie Somogyi (double-bass) deviated from the set-list, and so there was an uneven spread between what Thelonius Sphere Monk and Charles Mingus had written :

This went well, because we knew that we were in for an evening of Monk and Mingus staples – the latter had even written ‘Jump Monk’ for the former (even if most of Monk’s puns or wordplay remained just as obscure). When frontmen, Tony Kofi (alto) and Jeremy Price (trombone) stepped aside, we reduced to the cohesive form of the classic trio, with Mark Edwards (piano) and Clark Tracey (drums) playing tightly with Somogyi, and not even averse to a solo, all of which rarely did not have us nodding along to what these exponents of their art were devising.

Price and Kofi are very different players, so they did not try to compete with each other’s style, and Price’s playing complemented the improvisation that we had heard from Kofi : they each listened with care to the other, and, whereas Kofi’s is a more right-ahead sound, Price played with an inward-out manner that focused on a rounded tone-quality. As the audience did, who were really getting into these developmental lines, Somogyi must have liked long-form solos, and he would only sparingly call in any of the players, when he wanted to shape where the number was going. All in all, a very full and good night’s jazz !



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Good Friday ~ 14 April :







Holy Saturday ~ 15 April :













Easter Monday ~ 17 April :










Unless stated otherwise, all films reviewed were screened at Festival Central (Arts Picturehouse, Cambridge)

Monday, 22 July 2013

Too hot to handle ?

More views of - or before - Cambridge Film Festival 2012
(Click here to go directly to the Festival web-site)


23 July

* Contains spoilers *

The Hothouse is unmistakeable Pinter, and brings to mind what little I know of his political writings or late plays such as One for the Road, but I am unsure whether it needed a revival – or at least one that did not take greater risks with what dates back to the late 1950s, and was not staged by Pinter until more than twenty years later. (Perhaps the fact that, well before the end of the run, the expensive seats were available at a large discount is indicative of an answer, and the possibility that that trend may continue.)

What it did not need, at any rate, was Simon Russell Beale (Roote) turning the alacrity of a former colonel into too often huffing and gabbling the text, so that one word ran into the next – at the interval, I chose to try to establish whether the performance was representative by asking an usher at Trafalgar Studios, but he had not heard the first half, although he thought that people generally thought the delivery clear.

(I believe this to have been a misjudgement on Russell Beale’s part between a brisk characterization and audibility, because he performed Roote’s Christmas address fully in character and as if extemporized, but without compromising the careful detail of Pinter’s script.)

With this general exception, all of the cast was clear, and what stuck out for me was the beauty of execution and poise of the soliloquy given to Lush (John Heffernan), when he reports to Gibbs (John Simm) the visit of 6457’s mother. Taken out of context, and ignoring its exact content, the construction is pure Pinter, and Heffernan had the speech exactly right, as, I felt, he did Lush’s character (what’s in a name !*).

People such as 6457 we almost think that we must have seen, because Pinter gives an almost exact repetition between Gibbs and Roote of the guessing game where the latter tries to place what 6457 (and, later, 6459) looked like. Through Pinter’s stage-directions, we sense the unnamed inmates of this institution, but we are hardly allowed to feel them, because we are focused only on the staff (the lesser, ancillary staff are called the understaff).

This is where I come to what place The Hothouse (revised by Pinter when he staged it in 1980) has, and would set it against what we gather, without being anywhere near it, of the establishment in The Caretaker where Davies seems to have been given electro-convulsive therapy (ECT) : it all comes from Davies’ mouth, and it is truly and rivetingly distressing (the pun words ‘shocking’ and ‘electric’ first came to mind). We have Davies and we have his narration of this experience, and they seem to marry in a way that, perhaps, setting interactions between staff against that background does not.

In essence, The Hothouse is what we no longer expect from Pinter, a plot with a clear trajectory (even if there are puzzles along the way), which is not even a model that fits that well with The Birthday Party, a contemporary play. I think it is probably that he is doing too much (e.g. Roote’s diatribe against the patients being called by numbers, which turns out to be hot air, because he has no intention of trying to press for its being overturned), and ends up doing too little : with too little edge, as was maybe the case here, it can resemble a just slightly sinister version of Yes, Prime Minister.

Not to say that there is not power in scenes, such as the writing of the interrogation of Lamb (although not staged as Pinter appears to have envisaged) or the tightrope that Lush walks with Roote by challenging him about 6457 and 6459, but Lamb’s utterances to Miss Cutts point at that sort of inept bureaucracy, and even Roote is embroiled with rusty Ministry typewriters and the imperfections of the heating.

There is menace and tension if you know where to find it, but the work can be top heavy, driven by the situation, rather than, as in The Homecoming, the house being the backdrop to seeing the characters and watching them test each other. Simm I did not find right with his approach to Gibbs (Charlie, as Lush tries to call him), because, if Roote is a blusterer (as he surely is in the text), there has to be a little more to Gibbs than pedantry. After all, pedants do not necessarily of themselves make torturers, the thing that the ridiculously sex-driven Daisy Cutts (convincingly played by Indira Varma), always seeking to subvert or seduce into a lay, finds most exciting about Gibbs.

The Hothouse is casually set on Christmas Day – when that date in the calendar comes, I wonder how much this production will be remembered…


There is more here about the play, for those interested.



End-notes

* It may pass the observer by, but all of the names are monosyllables : Roote, Gibbs, Cutts, Lush, Lamb, Tubb, Lobb, Hogg. (The full list of the slain, given to Lobb by Gibbs, also has Beck, Budd, Tuck, Dodds, Tate and Pett.)