“I have two luxuries to brood over in my walks, your Loveliness and the hour of my death. O that I could have possession of them both in the same minute.” – John Keats in a letter to Fanny Brawne
How blessed we are to still find films that whisper to us. I first approached Jane Campion‘s Bright Star possessing little knowledge of the work of John Keats or of the biographical details of his life. As of this writing–two viewings and about 36 hours later–this is certainly no longer the case. It seems to advertise itself as yet another Austentatious costume romance catering to those who fetishize quills, creaking floorboards and grassy English gardens. Admittedly, it does fulfill that promise, but with so much wit and restraint that I’m hard-pressed to think of many similar films that approach its perfection. In fact, it is one of the most remarkably–and deceptively–straightforward and focused romances I’ve ever seen put to film–that between Keats (Ben Whishaw, Perfume: Story of a Murderer) and the love of his life, Fanny Brawne (Abbie Cornish, Candy).
Campion, who both wrote and directed, manages to establish a tone and mood for this film that are difficult to relate. She has interwoven the remnants of Keats’ surviving letters to Brawne with her own sharp and flowing dialogue. Her characters often stop to study their own words, pondering their meaning and almost relishing their inadequacy. Whishaw and Cornish nestle into each other tentatively but comfortably, grasping hands and touching heads with tenderness and a powerful but perfectly chaste PG-rated eroticism. The delicate musical score is punctuated by lovely a capella renditions of the third movement of Mozart‘s Serenade No. 10. Along the way, she gently breaks the spell and broadens the scope in the form of Charles Brown (Paul Schneider), Keats’ friend and partner, jealous of both parties and antagonistic in a refreshingly intimate and affectionate fashion.
Perhaps the most remarkable feat achieved by this film, at least for me, was how it captured the bliss of infatuation and how one’s fascination with the world can be renewed through the eyes of another human being. In some of its loveliest moments, the two lovers, separated by distance, strive to keep the spell alive with simple pleasures of nature like climbing trees and communing with butterflies. Anyone who remembers the sleepy eyes of Amelie Poulain‘s voyeuristic cat, or the feeble struggle put up by Anthony Hopkins when Emma Thompson caught him reading his secret book, should be familiar with the exhilarating prickle you might feel here. This is a work of delicacy and devastation.
While I was watching it a second time, I was conscious of a few moments that might appear, superficially at least, to be melodramatic or clichéd (i.e. two lovers pressing their faces against a heavy wooden wall separating them, much like the circumstances of their lives), but Campion and her players work with such a loose immediacy that even these scenes find fresh air to breathe–an eye less jaded than my own might never catch them at all. And though I’m usually loathe to use crude terminology like “guy movie” or “chick flick,” it’s probable that a lot of my fellow dudes might be skeptical of such a picture. If you need convincing, even Quentin Tarantino loved this movie so much that he wrote Campion a handwritten “love note” at Cannes. If you need another excuse, Keats will demonstrate in this movie exactly how to talk a girl into kissing you. – [DVD]
Biography/Drama/Romance
Rated PG
DVD Release Date: 1/26/10
[...] BRIGHT STAR [...]
[...] BRIGHT STAR [...]