I
had an epiphany after watching this movie. Not because the picture itself was
particularly marvelous. Though it is
excellent in many ways. And I do recommend it. The film’s based on one of Jane Austen’s
lesser known works – an unpublished (in her lifetime) short story called “Lady
Susan”.
Costumes and set decoration do the period honor. And
there’s much to admire in the dialogue, some taken directly from Ms Austen,
some nicely simulated to echo her style. I find an occasional tendency, though,
toward over-archness in the way the story’s framed and presented. In an attempt to recreate Austen’s
sardonically observant touch in cinematic terms director Whit Stillman sometimes
over-eggs the pudding - upsetting,
rather than reflecting the perfect sense of balance that’s an Austen trademark. But mostly, it’s the disparity in performance
levels among the cast that creates problems for me. One of the reasons the film does ultimately work, though, is that
the lead role (Lady Susan herself) is played pretty much to perfection. It’s
absolutely critical that this performance be nailed, because Lady Susan’s at
the center of all that happens: events emanate from her, swirl around and frequently
swamp the other characters, eventually coming back to her ladyship to roost. She’s the impelling force behind most of what
we see and the stumbling block in almost everyone else’s path to contentment. A schemer who must be at once hugely clever,
marvelously witty, prodigiously penetrating yet shockingly obtuse. A vivid
movie creation we can’t resist – yet someone whose dangerous attentions we surely wouldn't welcome in our own lives. Lady Susan’s an embodiment and
reaction to the social mores of her era, yet the character remains immediately recognizable
and relevant in our own. Not so much a social climber as a charmingly
unsettling social Darwinist. And what’s most astonishing – and gratifying – is
that the complicated part is absolutely aced by Kate Beckinsale, an actress
who’s never impressed me as anything more than a generic screen beauty,
competent, agile and charisma-free over a career that’s lasted decades. Someone who would have fit in perfectly as a
sideline diva on “Dynasty” – but I’d have figured that would have pretty much been
the limit of her abilities. She’s proven me wrong here. Her voice - its tones seductively reasonable - is a treat
to hear– and she serves up every speech in a way that makes you rediscover the
joys of the English language. In Beckinsale’s
assured hands, Lady Susan sustains a real balancing act, fascinatingly
attractive – with well thought out, pragmatic explanations for every
underhanded move she makes. Endlessly
resourceful, effectively amoral, she makes audiences yearn for her comeuppance–
then, whenever we think she’s painted herself into a corner, we're just as eager to
see her wriggle out. Reviewers are responding to the actress's sterling work here. So I’m hoping that at Academy Award time,
she’ll be remembered. Whoever else turns up in the Oscar conversation, I think
Beckinsale’s delightful tour de force here will remain a top contender.
It
would be too much to expect every player in the film to be operating at
Beckinsale’s dizzying level of accomplishment. But several of them do turn in excellent work. Xavier Samuel is most accomplished (and
dishy) as one of her amorous targets. And a couple of older males, Justin
Edwards as one of Lady Susan’s champions and James Fleet as one of her foes are
both pretty terrific as well. But Stephen Fry and Morfydd Clark bring little
more than competence to promising roles. And Chloe Sevigny is just someone who’s
never done it for me. There’s an ungainliness to her look and her presence.
Some might say it fits her role as an American among British socialites. But I
just think it’s baggage she brings with her. She’s got a fascinating part as
Lady Susan’s confidante and sounding board but does little of interest with it.
She is better, though, than a couple of her co-stars. Tom Bennett is attracting
heaps of critical praise as a good-hearted buffoon and multi-purpose pawn in
Lady Susan’s plans. The audience I saw
the film with roared at his antics. Curmudgeonly me, I just don’t get it. I only saw an actor trying to be funny; trying really hard and really often, but
never once ringing the bell. I didn’t chuckle, didn’t smile. Just waited for
him to finish his shtick so everybody else could get on with things. But even he wasn’t worst in show; Jenn Murray,
the annoying friend who tagged along with Saoirse to the dance in “Brooklyn”
here goes bonkers as a deceived wife. Her performance is just one long over the
top crying jag –intended to be comic, but misjudged on every level. Subpar contributions like these keep “Love
and Friendship’ from being a perfect
entertainment. But, still, the picture’s positives easily outweigh its
negatives.
Anyway,
I said I experienced an epiphany while watching it. And it wasn’t from Kate
Beckinsale’s exquisitely canny work. Though that certainly
qualifies as a wonderful revelation. No, the epiphany arose from another
magical performance in the movie. A deceptively quiet supporting one from the
middle-aged actress who played Xavier
Samuels’ mother, Lady DeCourcey. James Fleet is her husband in the film – and
he gives the part a sourly skeptical comic spin that works beautifully. But it’s Lady DeCourcey who glows. Patient,
loving, concerned and finally alarmed to the core that Lady Susan is going to
permanently ensnare the apple of her eye. It‘s not what you’d call showy work – yet there’s
such a depth of talent and humanity to this actress that she absolutely
captivated me every time she was onscreen. I loved her voice; her intonations
reminded me of the Redgrave family actresses – all of whom convey levels
of dramatic incandescence. She even had a Redgrave look to her. But I’d never
heard of Vanessa and Lynn having another acting sister. And this certainly wasn’t Natasha or Joely Richardson, both fine purveyors of the family brand. So I checked the cast list at movie’s end –
and there was the name – Jemma Redgrave! What??? I thought about it on the way home – and
finally decided she must be the daughter of Redgrave brother Corin, himself a fine actor. And – yes –
that turned out to be it. But somehow I’d never seen her before And this is a lady around 50. She’s made movies, worked on the stage and
television. Yet I’d never even known she existed. But now I do. And a world
with one more talented Redgrave lady in it is, to me, a better world. There are
things about the female Redgraves that separate them from – and to a degree - elevate them above other actresses: their
heroically beautiful facial features; their
statuesque bearing; those voices of theirs
projecting a calm big enough to encompass chaos. There’s a low timbre to
the tones these ladies produce; it seems to come from deep, deep down, emerging in
sounds that are spacious and luxuriant yet somehow throb with honest emotion. Vanessa,
of course, is the one in whom the Redgrave miracle operates at its most
astonishing level. It seems foolish to call anyone the world’s greatest
actress. The world’s a big place. And there’s no shortage of actresses. Yet, is there anyone above her? Those who’ve been lucky enough to see her on stage say her
gift is only fully realized there. Yet, it’s hard for me to imagine heights
higher than the ones I’ve seen her scale onscreen. The word eloquence only
begins to describe her talent. If
languor’s what’s wanted, she can provide it like no other. Extending those purring syllables like a cat
stretching in the sun. But she reaches heights
just as impressive projecting determination, duplicity, hauteur, venom, valour
and passion. When she was young her beauty was dazzling; now its regalness and spirituality
are ageless. Yet if Vanessa represents the
Redgrave pinnacle, that isn’t to say the other actresses in the family aren’t
generously endowed with the magic. Both of Vanessa’s daughters, Natasha and
Joely inherited her voice, manner and poise. Watching either is always a treat. Sister Lynn
tended to concentrate on comedy – but was clearly marked with the family
characteristics, physical and artistic. And – if anything – stretched the idea
of what it meant to be a Redgrave. Now
I find there’s another – this Jemma. I recognized the family glow before I
realized she was indeed a bona fide member of the clan. And now I look forward
to seeing her again.
What’s always surprised me, though, is that I’ve never
been much of a fan of the patriarch of this acting dynasty, Sir Michael
Redgrave. His fame and artistic status are surely safe without my endorsement.
But I’ve never found him especially compelling, appealing or impressive.
Excellent voice, theatrical assurance. But – for me – there’s an inner blankness
; he’s like a road that leads nowhere in
particular . Again, his reputation for greatness comes mainly from his accomplishments
on stage, none of which I’ve ever seen. But I have seen his most famous screen work – and none of it registers
strongly with me. “The Lady Vanishes”, “The Importance of
Being Earnest”. Certainly not “Mourning Becomes Electra” . Even what’s
considered his peak screen work in “The Browning Version” leaves me unmoved.
Whenever I see it, I think of the levels of humanity John Mills could have
brought to the role. A fun cameo in Orson Welles’ “Mr. Arkadin” is all I recall
with any real pleasure. And – in that – Redgrave’s there and gone in a minute or
two. So it’s always puzzled me that this – to me – somewhat over-praised artist
should have sired such a line of dazzlingly talented ladies, none of whose
technique or aura remind me in the slightest of his. How did it happen?
Of course, the answer’s been in front of me all along. I
must have known it on some level. But it wasn’t till I saw Jemma Redgrave in “Love & Friendship” that it all came together. These ladies all share another common ancestor
– Redgrave’s actress wife, Rachel Kempson. Her screen performances were sporadic. She
seems to have relinquished her own ambitions– largely to support the lives and careers of her famous husband and family. But any
exposure I’ve had to her – from the hold- back- the- tears 40’s melodrama of “The Captive Heart” to her rather unexpected
appearance in “The Curse of the Fly” in ’65 – has quietly impressed me. And now suddenly I see it. The essence of the
Redgrave girls, - their stillness, their sound, their singular diction and depth – it comes from her.
Looking at her again, it’s suddenly clear that she’s the wellspring. The facial characteristics, the vocal power,
the warmth and the deep, deep sensitivity are all evident in her. Yes, I’m sure something of Sir Michael
Redgrave’s exists in all these ladies. And he may well have inspired each of
them. But the magical qualities - physical and beyond – that mark them as theatrical
and cinematic goddesses spring from and
mirror Rachel Kempson. It’s not so much the Redgrave dynasty as the Kempson matriarchy.
So
that was my epiphany. Why the clarity took so long to arrive I don’t know. The
evidence was always in plain sight. This glowing lady lives on in her female
descendants. In their beauty, spiritual and physical, in their prodigious
talents, in their sheer radiance. The liquid gold continues to flow. And I'd say Rachel
Kempson, Lady Redgrave, is the true source of this particular artistic Nile.
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