William Sleet (McKittrick)

I find it hard to talk about this one without it bringing a lump to my throat.
This kind of achingly beautiful and unashamedly romantic tale is deeply unfashionable now and it's such a crying shame. Campion has surely bested herself here with this subtle and divinely lyrical love poem - so making 'The Piano' feel almost like galumphing over-ripe melodrama in comparison.
I'm sure that much of today's impatient audience will be snoring into their popcorn at Campion's leisurely and smoldering drip drip pace. And the long scene's of poetry reading (it's no mean feat to read poetry with emotional conviction so Whishaw and Cornish should be cherished for sure), the quiet and often silent moments heavy with bated breath and the melancholy longueurs of love unrequited will sorely test the patience of many.
But us hopeless romantics will (quietly) cheer and find rich rewards. Bright Star has a precious, almost nameless, quality that will linger in your heart and consciousness long after it's utterly sublime credit sequence has faded and I really do pity those that don't fall under its mesmerising spell.
Exquisite.

Dumbed down doesn't even come close (I half expected the credits sequence to say "based on the game..."!). Ben Barnes is indeed a pretty thing and Wilde would have approved on an aesthetic level at least. But he is by far the least satisfying actor here. Colin Firth (an actor who is improving with maturity), as Lord Henry Wooton comes off considerably better. But I suppose his established pedigree would dictate that he knows his Wilde a little better than the enfant Barnes, plus Lord Henry is often the voice of Wilde (even here spouting most of the Wilde wit) and is the more interesting character. So maybe I'm being unfair? Maybe.
The film itself, despite superficially feeling 'authentic', is really rather too literal with its metaphors to feel at all Wildean - not to mention the huge hammer and chisel they use with the story's darker themes and ideas (everything writ large, no ambiguity). You could never accuse the makers of this potboiler of subtlety!
More unforgivably they seem to have dispensed with any sense of aestheticism at all in favour of something more akin to a gothic 'penny-dreadful' or, more obviously, a Hammer horror pastiche. This 'disrespectful' (?) approach, despite making it all a profoundly hollow experience, does however make proceedings much more enjoyable than your average hidebound and pursed-lipped affair. The kind that is often foisted on us claiming to be a faithful adaptation of Wilde's work - but which still only ever succeeds in missing the point completely - albeit at the other extreme of being dry and flavourless. And there are some fun moments to be had. Especially a wonderfully camp, yet still utterly moving scene where a still exceptionally youthful Dorian returns after a couple of decades of whoring and scoring to face his gaggle of former admirers who are, poor wretches, now obviously ravaged by time. Oh cruel irony (forget the picture locked up in the attic!)
Even so, as an adaptation of Wilde's only full length novel, it's a huge missed opportunity - this could have been something very special. As it is, it's merely a stripped down version to allow for an audience who doesn't like to think too hard about anything much.
Fun but utterly forgettable.

Anyone who knows me will know how important Vertigo is to me. Maybe it's not the greatest film ever made - who can possibly say with all confidence (arrogance?) what film THAT is?? But it is my favourite film. I know of no other film - and I have seen many many films in my (ahem!) 41 years - that comes close to matching it in it's cinematic purity. That I can come back to time and time again and still love it! I loath the list mentality where we list the 'the best/greatest films' - listing the Top 10, Top 20, Top 100 of what we or anyone else has the immodesty to presume are the greatest films ever made. All the films in my list are important to me, each means something different to me, affects me in some small or great way. I have always found it difficult to categorically say which film I love more or which I think are greater. Except for one! So when you check out 'my films', please note: it's NOT in order of merit! Except, of course, Vertigo will always be number 1!!

I first saw Brief Encounter when I was very young - pre-teens probably. I remember being very moved by the story, I enjoyed the very Englishness of it and it's rich characterization. I didn't then see it again for many years and when I did I became quite disillusioned by it - thinking it trite, corny and frightfully dated. But over the years I realized that that probably had more to do with how cynical and hard hearted I was at the time (my early 20s)and have now renewed my love of it. Time has been kind to Brief Encounter and the things I felt were trite and corny, now seem poignant, beautiful and deeply moving. It IS very English but that is what makes it all the more wonderful. The depiction of doomed and unrequited love stifled by the repressive attitudes and stiff upper lips of a cold middle England (Coward's homosexuality most certainly would have informed his writing) expertly conveyed by a mixture of restrained but intense acting, Noel Coward's rich characterization, the flawless cinematography of Robert Krasker and the cinematic genius of David Lean. Celia Johnson's performance is amazing and her voice-over is the best you will ever hear in any film ever Also her face is so cinematic (her eyes tell you all you need to know about how Laura is feeling - despite the voice-over!) that you just can't take your eyes off her for a second. Her big close-up when she makes a mad, impulsive attempt at suicide gives me goose-bumps every time. Truly one of the greatest moments in cinema and if you fail to be moved by it then you are quite clearly an emotional cripple and I pity you! haha!