We’re half the human race. You can’t stop us all.

Suffragette

(2015)

(SPOILERS) The sort of earnestly rote film that makes you long for Baz Lurhmann’s garish, musical extravaganza version, complete with a spangle-packed Lady Gaga cover of Suffragette City as Carey Mulligan backflips down a cobbled street, simultaneously bashing the Fuzz and sticking it to the man. All very commendable to make a picture about an epochal movement (I was particularly interested to learn the Swiss didn’t give women the vote until the 1971 – those ruddy Swiss!), less so if you broach the topic in the most obvious and least incisive of manners.

Carey Mulligan is Maud Watts, a laundress caught up in the women’s suffrage movement while experiencing first-hand the less venerable side of the male of the species, from a predatory supervisor (Geoff Bell) to a hubby (Ben Wishaw) who only seems like a decent sort until his wife’s waywardly disruptive political activities lead him to put her out on the street and then give their child up for adoption (the spineless poltroon). Then there’s the Filth, handing out beatings with abandon. Apart from the considered but only partially comprehending one (Brendan Gleeson), who wants to turn Maud informer.

There’s a strong whiff here of young actors trying out working class accents for size, accompanied by the reek of history-lite. Helena Bonham-Carter (the great-granddaughter of then PM Asquith) uses her customary posh tones, though, as the direct-action doctor, while Meryl Streep tackles another real-life figure, standing at a window and waving encouragingly as Emily Pankhurst. It’s all a little pedestrian, those parts that don’t actually galvanise a reaction by simple virtue of the injustice on display. But that’s an easy lever to pull, and this should try harder.

Matters even reduce to a race against time for the climax, like a suffragette Day of the Jackal, as Gleeson (remarkably) deductively heads for the Epsom Derby to prevent whatever it is Maud is there for from transpiring. But too late! History will out.

Anne-Marie Duff’s is easily the most impressive performance. Everyone else seems to be donning the bonnets and voices, to a greater or lesser extent. Abi Morgan also wrote the Maggie-biopic no one asked for, The Iron Lady, and Brick Lane for Suffragette’s director Sarah Gavron (as well as the decidedly more impressive Shame with Steve McQueen), and seems to be skimming the surface for a digestion-friendly, undemanding nods of agreement. There’s potential for exploration of the prodding of the proletariat by the privileged in terms of the movement’s foot soldiers, but nothing comes of it. And while it’s fun to see the ladies blowing up pillar boxes, it does make one instantly think of a Python or Goodies parody.

More fundamentally, for all her suffering (cos, like, she’s a suffragette), Maud just isn’t interesting enough to sustain the film. Loathe as I am to encourage the straight-edged biopic, I could imagine Streep’s Pankhurst would be a much more conducive prospect, even led away from telling the story at a “street” level. As it is, Suffragette is well-intentioned but forgettable.

Agree? Disagree? Mildly or vehemently? Let me know in the comments below.

Comments

You know, I think you may have the delusion you’re still a police officer.

Heaven’s Prisoners (1996) (SPOILERS) At the time, it seemed Alec Baldwin was struggling desperately to find suitable star vehicles, and the public were having none of it. Such that, come 1997, he was playing second fiddle to Anthony Hopkins and Bruce Willis, and in no time at all had segued to the beefy supporting player we now know so well from numerous indistinguishable roles. That, and inane SNL appearances. But there was a window, post- being replaced by Harrison Ford as Jack Ryan, when he still had sufficient cachet to secure a series of bids for bona fide leading man status. Heaven’s Prisoners is the final such and probably the most interesting, even if it’s somewhat hobbled by having too much, rather than too little, story.

They wanted me back for a reason. I need to find out why.

Zack Snyder’s Justice League (2021) (SPOILERS) I wasn’t completely down on Joss Whedon’s Justice League (I had to check to remind myself Snyder retained the director credit), which may be partly why I’m not completely high on Zack Snyder’s. This gargantuan four-hour re-envisioning of Snyder’s original vision is aesthetically of a piece, which means its mercifully absent the jarring clash of Whedon’s sensibility with the Snyderverse’s grimdark. But it also means it doubles down on much that makes Snyder such an acquired taste, particularly when he has story input. The positive here is that Zack Snyder’s Justice League has the luxury of telling the undiluted, uncondensed story Snyder wanted to tell. The negative here is also that Zack Snyder’s Justice League has the luxury of telling the undiluted, uncondensed story Snyder wanted to tell (with some extra sprinkles on top). This is not a Watchmen , where the unexpurgated version was for the most part a feast.

Oh, I love funny exiting lines.

Alfred Hitchcock Ranked: 26-1 The master's top tier ranked from worst to best. You can find 52-27 here .

I don't think this is the lightning you're looking for.

Meet Joe Black (1998) (SPOILERS) A much-maligned Brad Pitt fest, commonly accused of being interminable, ponderous, self-important and ridiculous. All of those charges may be valid, to a greater or lesser extent, but Meet Joe Black also manages to attain a certain splendour, in spite of its more wayward impulses. While it’s suggestive of a filmmaker – Martin Brest – believing his own hype after the awards success of (the middling) Scent of a Woman , this is a case where all that sumptuous better-half styling and fantasy lifestyle does succeed in achieving a degree of resonance. An undeniably indulgent movie, it’s one I’ve always had a soft spot for.

Now all we’ve got to do is die.

Without Remorse (2021) (SPOILERS) Without Remorse is an apt description of the unapologetic manner in which Amazon/Paramount have perpetrated this crime upon any audiences foolish enough to think there was any juice left in the Tom Clancy engine. There certainly shouldn’t have been, not after every attempt was made to run it dry in The Sum of All Our Fears and then the stupidly titled Jack Ryan: Shadow Recruit . A solo movie of sometime Ryan chum John Clark’s exploits has been mooted awhile now, and two more inimitable incarnations were previously encountered in the forms of Willem Dafoe and Liev Schreiber. Like Chris Pine in Shadow Recruit , however, diminishing returns find Michael B Jordan receiving the short straw and lead one to the conclusion that, if Jordan is indeed a “star”, he’s having a hell of a job proving it.

Suspicions of destiny. We all have them. A deep, wordless knowledge that our time has come.

Damien: Omen II (1978) (SPOILERS) There’s an undercurrent of unfulfilled potential with the Omen series, an opportunity to explore the machinations of the Antichrist and his minions largely ignored in favour of Final Destination deaths every twenty minutes or so. Of the exploration there is, however, the better part is found in Damien: Omen II , where we’re privy to the parallel efforts of a twelve or thirteen-year-old Damien at military school and those of Thorn Industries. The natural home of the diabolical is, after all, big business. Consequently, while this sequel is much less slick than the original, it is also more engaging dramatically.

Don’t be ridiculous. Nobody loves a tax inspector. They’re beyond the pale!

Too Many Crooks (1959) (SPOILERS) The sixth of seven collaborations between producer-director Mario Zampi and writer Michael Pertwee, Too Many Crooks scores with a premise later utilised to big box-office effect in Ruthless People (1986). A gang of inept thieves kidnap the wife of absolute cad and bounder Billy Gordon (Terry-Thomas). Unfortunately for them, Gordon, being an absolute cad and bounder, sees it as a golden opportunity, rather enjoying his extra-marital carry ons and keeping all his cash from her, so he refuses to pay up. At which point Lucy Gordon (Brenda De Banzie) takes charge of the criminal crew and turns the tables.

A subterranean Loch Ness Monster?

Doctor Who The Silurians No, I’m not going to refer to The Silurians as Doctor Who and the Silurians . I’m going to refer to it as Doctor Who and the Eocenes . The Silurians plays a blinder. Because both this and Inferno know the secret of an extended – some might say overlong – story is to keep the plot moving, they barely drag at all and are consequently much fleeter of foot than many a four parter. Unlike Malcolm Hulke’s sequel The Sea Devils , The Silurians has more than enough plot and deals it out judiciously (the plague, when it comes, kicks the story up a gear at the precarious burn-out stage of a typical four-plus parter). What’s most notable, though, is how engaging those first four episodes are, building the story slowly but absorbingly and with persuasive confidence.

When I barked, I was enormous.

Dean Spanley (2008) (SPOILERS) There is such a profusion of average, respectable – but immaculately made – British period drama held up for instant adulation, it’s hardly surprising that, when something truly worthy of acclaim comes along, it should be singularly ignored. To be fair, Dean Spanley was well liked by critics upon its release, but its subsequent impact has proved disappointingly slight. Based on Lord Dunsany’s 1939 novella, My Talks with Dean Spanley , our narrator relates how the titular Dean’s imbibification of a moderate quantity of Imperial Tokay (“ too syrupy ”, is the conclusion reached by both members of the Fisk family regarding this Hungarian wine) precludes his recollection of a past life as a dog. Inevitably, reviews pounced on the chance to reference Dean Spanley as a literal shaggy dog story, so I shall get that out of the way now. While the phrase is more than fitting, it serves to underrepresent how affecting the picture is when it has c

Well, it must be terribly secret, because I wasn't even aware I was a member.

The Brotherhood of the Bell (1970) (SPOILERS) No, not Joseph P Farrell’s book about the Nazi secret weapons project, but rather a first-rate TV movie in the secret-society ilk of later flicks The Skulls and The Star Chamber . Only less flashy and more cogent. Glenn Ford’s professor discovers the club he joined 22 years earlier is altogether more hardcore than he could have ever imagined – not some student lark – when they call on the services he pledged. David Karp’s adaptation of his novel, The Brotherhood of the Bell is so smart in its twists and turns of plausible deniability, you’d almost believe he had insider knowledge.

Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

Search This Blog