"They are going through the potato salad like gannets." It's great seeing Hugh Grant and Meryl Streep on screen together. They're powerhouse actors, and their portrayals of St Clair Bayfield and Florence Foster Jenkins, respectively, capture your attention. I've never been that impressed with Streep, but I like Hugh Grant because he's a posh bloke who hates posh blokes. He went through a phase were he only wanted to play bad guys, and you can still see that same seamy edge to his performances still. Bayfield, while a loving husband, is a duplicitous man.
Rounding out the cast is David Haig, Rebecca Ferguson, and Simon Helberg. It was a genuine delight seeing Haig on screen; I haven't seen him since The Thin Blue Line and Four Weddings. Rebecca Ferguson is an excellent actress who's eyes are very far apart: she's an eerie Swedish beauty. Simon Helberg, I find, doesn't really "act." His performance as McMoon reminds me of Peewee Herman, strangely-- only less likable and more slimy.
Going in, you know 'Florence' is based on a true story, and that the twist is that she loves music but can't sing. The scene where they first showcase her bad singing is as heavy-handed as an amateur piano player-- overlong, and even sort of cruel. This is ironic because the ethos of this movie is to show that Florence was a good woman and should be lauded for her love of music, despite being unable to sing. Instead, these initial scenes invite us, the audience, to laugh at her lack of talent. Weird still, seeing as how the woman's been dead for years. The film also drags showing Bayfield's system of bribing patrons to applaud Jenkin's singing. At and hour and fifty minutes, a lot of this could've been cut.
But there're good moments too. Jenkins playing the piano with McMoon was lovely, and the climax at Carnegie Hall was tense but fun. It reminded me a bit of the climax of The King's Speech, but not as good. And, really, Hugh Grant steals every scene. "Is ours not a happy world?" Much of this film doesn't pay tribute to Jenkins, but functions more as a backhanded compliment: up until the final scene, where she says, "People may say that I couldn't sing, but they can't say that I didn't sing." Godspeed, Ms. Jenkins. You threw yourself into a passion where most people would be afraid.
Rounding out the cast is David Haig, Rebecca Ferguson, and Simon Helberg. It was a genuine delight seeing Haig on screen; I haven't seen him since The Thin Blue Line and Four Weddings. Rebecca Ferguson is an excellent actress who's eyes are very far apart: she's an eerie Swedish beauty. Simon Helberg, I find, doesn't really "act." His performance as McMoon reminds me of Peewee Herman, strangely-- only less likable and more slimy.
Going in, you know 'Florence' is based on a true story, and that the twist is that she loves music but can't sing. The scene where they first showcase her bad singing is as heavy-handed as an amateur piano player-- overlong, and even sort of cruel. This is ironic because the ethos of this movie is to show that Florence was a good woman and should be lauded for her love of music, despite being unable to sing. Instead, these initial scenes invite us, the audience, to laugh at her lack of talent. Weird still, seeing as how the woman's been dead for years. The film also drags showing Bayfield's system of bribing patrons to applaud Jenkin's singing. At and hour and fifty minutes, a lot of this could've been cut.
But there're good moments too. Jenkins playing the piano with McMoon was lovely, and the climax at Carnegie Hall was tense but fun. It reminded me a bit of the climax of The King's Speech, but not as good. And, really, Hugh Grant steals every scene. "Is ours not a happy world?" Much of this film doesn't pay tribute to Jenkins, but functions more as a backhanded compliment: up until the final scene, where she says, "People may say that I couldn't sing, but they can't say that I didn't sing." Godspeed, Ms. Jenkins. You threw yourself into a passion where most people would be afraid.