The Theory of Everything
(2014)
(SPOILERS) The latest awards-bait biopic is considerably
more involving than the tepid The
Intimidation Game, although it shares with it an apparent determination not to depict genius at work. The Theory of Everything is rigorous in
its desire to present an upbeat story (just listen to that – actually very
good, but still, it’s far from subtle – score). It’s as unpolished in its
plotting as it is lustrous in its cinematography. Mostly, though, this is an
okay “triumph over adversity’ film, fairly typical of its type, but anchored by
outstanding performances from Eddie Redmayne and Felicity Jones.
I didn’t know much about Stephen Hawking’s cosmological
theories before seeing Theory. I
didn’t have much interest either; the little that had filtered in seemed to
reference concepts I found far more accessible in your average science fiction
tale. Having seen Theory, which will
probably reach a wider audience than A
Brief History of Time (which has probably been read by a miniscule
proportion of those who bought it), I can’t say my interest has been piqued.
This is an area in which the also-Best Picture Oscar-nominated The Intimidation Game also flobbles
about unconvincingly.
Screenwriter Antony McCarten fails to deliver the science
behind Hawking’s ideas, not just in terms of why his ideas made such an impression within the scientific
establishment but also in terms of
their practical explanation. After all, Hawking wrote that book for scientific luddites; you’d have thought Theory could at least try to embrace
that spirit (on the other hand, as noted, people are actually watching the
picture). One might come away with the impression that Hawking is a great because he is populist, and because of his memorable voice software. Which is probably what one went into the film thinking.
The best we get is a lecture where one peer walks out of Hawking’s
(Redmayne) rumination on how black holes aren’t entirely black while a Russian
proclaims him a dear little genius (he was unable to predict a psychotic robot
with human eyes lurking deep within such galactic bodies, however). Oh, and
Hawking’s mate Brian (not real, but not not-real in the A Beautiful Mind best mate sense) not-really explaining his theory
in a pub with beer foam (you can all-but see the wheels turning in the minds of
director and writer; that’s how we explain Hawking to masses! Thirty seconds in
a pub!) There’s also swirling cream in coffee and fireworks.
The Hawking “view” and leaps that any genius in his or her
right mind must make in order to attain the mantle of genius are relayed in a sufficiently
pretty fashion (the film is exclusively very pretty, and will do wonders for
Cambridge University applications, not that it needs any encouragement, of
course), from blurring dancers at a May Ball to a blurring fire seen through
the gauze of a pullover. But they’re entirely pedestrian visions of vision
(there’s a persuasive sense of the history of great academicians at Cambridge,
and David Thewlis is great as Hawking’s benevolent tutor, but that’s as far as
it goes). Jane (Jones) even rehearses hubby’s ideas, bored and well versed, to future
spouse Jonathan (Charlie Cox), and that’s it. It’s not really that important, I guess, not next to everything else that
didn’t make him famous.
I also wonder if getting hung up on the science versus God
debate is a little tiresome by this point, and a bit of a blind alley. Post-Dawkins,
how about, for a change, trying to engage positively with the theory, rather
than getting mired in polar viewpoints? Belief may have fed directly into the
relationship between Jane and Stephen, but it airing it this way undercuts the
ideas of the man. Indeed, it serves to add to the sense that Hawkins notions
aren’t really all that.
It’s the sort of picture, you know the ones, (struggle
against adversity + scientific genius = a shower of awards nominations), that’s
crying out for a more offbeat and daring approach. Particularly in this case,
dealing as it is with the cosmic and quantum range(s) of things. Terrence Malick
might never get involved with something so overtly atheistic (although, coming
from Hawking’s wife’s memoir, there’s a liberal dose of God in there), but
jumps from intimate to universal are really lacking; the picture needs such
balance, so it doesn’t entirely become a story about Hawking being loved and
respected for (or despite) having motor neuron disease. Which is, basically,
what it is.
That said, Theory
is compelling in respect of the relationship between Hawking and Jane. I was
most impressed that it isn’t just a
film about Hawking, side-lining the true strength behind the wheeled throne (this was
before I saw the end credits and realised why). Jane’s role and the weight thrust
upon her in raising a family of three (another aspect I was oblivious to; the
picture makes a point of establishing Stephen’s fully-working cockmanship,
although it stops short of showing him visit Stringfellows and instead settles
for a browse through Penthouse), along
with a husband who needed to be constantly cared for, solo, certainly needed due
recognition.
There isn’t much care spent finessing the introduction of
elements (incoming Daredevil Charlie
Cox as choirmaster and eventual second husband Jonathan Jones arrives on the
scene once we’re shown the burden on Jane) but the performers repeatedly strive
for nuance where the writing is perfunctory. When Hawking leaves Jane for sparky
redhead nurse Elaine (Maxine Peak, deliciously commanding; probably an
understatement in respect of the real Elaine’s alleged abusive behaviour), leaving
her free to marry Jonathan, there’s a feeling that Marsh could have measured
the tone a bit better. Although, the resulting tone is one where everything
turns out fine for everyone concerned, which is exactly the aim, I suspect. But
it means it all seems a bit schematic. Jane gets her man in the end, Stephen
gets adulation (but not, ultimately, the girl), and so it’s all something to feel great about.
Likewise, Marsh and McCarten can’t resist playing up for
dramatic purposes (Hawking has a seizure at the opera, so aren’t the
surroundings gorgeous?) If it had been up to those damn Swiss, Hawking would be
dead! The scene meeting the Queen is a bit of a meal of a moment, although it sat
least serves to show how the two of them reconciled. Actually unnecessary is
the scene where Stephen takes up her (an attendee at a lecture) pen and walks.
In his mind, of course. It’s overkill, in a film that has trodden a fairly
dependable line in not over stating its characters. The final brief history of
Stephen Hawking in reverse is a further inevitability and sign of an
uninventive biopic (but aren’t they most?) that probably thought it was full of
great ideas.
Where the Worzel Down
Under scribe scores, however, is with Stephen’s sense of humour, and humour
in general. Redmayne fully inhabits Hawking’s deterioration, despair, then
determination and his roving eye. His
mischievousness is also shown to be unfair (announcing his blame in front of
the kids and so distracting from a serious conversation; mum’s to blame again).
Illustrative is how he gives Jane a lighter moment of possible admission that
there’s room for God in the universe, only to pick the next beat to announce
he’s taking off with Elaine. Elsewhere, he’s deposited in the arms of statue of
Queen Victoria by Brian (Harry Lloyd, very good as his best chum), and races
around the house with a bag over his head commanding, “Exterminate!”
Daniel Day Lewis may have used up all the wheelchair Oscars,
and co-nominee Bendict Cumberbath may have got in there first in Hawking, but Redmayne’s performance is
flawless; sad, funny, moving. You forget you’re not watching the man himself.
Jones is right with him beat-for-beat, and has also been justly nominated. It
also credits the makers that they exercised restraint with the make-up (they
didn’t necessarily elsewhere). No one’s convincing anyone that a bit of grey is
going to make Jones look older than a slip of a girl, so having Countdown in the background helps to one get one's bearings.
The ins and outs of who deserves more sympathy for the
disintegration of their marriage are sidestepped (as it plays out, Jane is
tacitly permitted to wander while Stephen deals a crueller blow). There’s
always a problem becoming too fixated on the facts with real figures, at the
expense of whether the tale being told is told well. This is a tale told
reasonably, but that is chiefly so because of Jones and Redmayne raising the
material. It raises the question of whether there’s any point making biopics
when they tend to be run-of-the-mill. Rarely a great one comes along, but
that’s usually because it plays fast and loose with facts and form (Amadeus). Certainly, there seems to be little point – in
the vast majority of cases – rehearsing such material during the lifetime of
its protagonist.
So, The Theory of
Everything is a triumph. You can tell it is, because of all the “This is
where you well up” moments delivered via Jóhan Jóhannsson’s tear-jerking score
(good job, Jóhan!) Never mind the little details. Such as, “What was it
that made you so brilliant again, Stephen?” This miraculous tale (there you go,
it’s God at work!) knows how to milk its audience. It may not be one I’m going
to remember for its content (was there even potential for a Hawking biopic in
there; about his theories, that is?), but its performances will linger.
