It’s been more than a hot minute since Jane Campion had buzz behind one of her pictures or even a film premiering at Cannes. The Croisette gave her international acclaim in 1992 bestowing the much-coveted Palme D’or on her evocative period masterwork, “The Piano” (still as lovely and striking picture as ever, Michael Nyman’s magnificent score making one wonder why she’s ever bothered to work with anyone else since), but audiences and critics haven’t been as kind or receptive to not-entirely successful, but still engaging ventures (“Holy Smoke” with Kate Winslet) or total misfires (“In The Cut” with just-botoxed mangled Meg Ryan; has there ever been a better case for aging gracefully?).
Still, by returning to a period piece – the ill-fated love story between 19th century poet John Keats and Fanny Brawne, (Abbie Cornish and Ben Whishaw from “I’m Not There”) – and with the in-competition endorsement of Cannes, we must all assume from the evidence at hand, this is her best picture in years and a potential comeback.
And so far, there have been whispers along Le Croisette that “Bright Star” has a good chance of taking home the Palme d’Or again this year. And rightly so. The film is an exquisite piece of cinema, gorgeously sewn and lovingly realized, it’s easily the best film of the festival we’ve seen so far (though as some will have probably noted so far, it feels like a weak year so far).
Featuring Campion’s delicate touch, a sensuous aura and a tenderly handcrafted framework, “Bright Star” is evocatively rendered and gorgeous in its aesthetic scope.
No one does forlornness quite like the New Zealander and the picture has a wonderfully tremulous and arresting hearts-a-flutter tenor. Campion feels incredibly at home in the period piece milieu, as if a lost soul from this era. Her effortless ease in this environment makes the picture feel replete with full-bodied life and sanguine, emotion-flushed assuredness.
Abbie Cornish stars as Fanny Brawne, a brassy fashion student in the 1800s who is not one for keeping her tongue. Ben Whishaw is the then-unrenowned romantic poet John Keats in early mourning for what appears to be the impending death of his sickly younger brother. Their tentative-toed attraction and flirtations meet obstacles immediately. First and foremost, Ms.Brawne comes from a poor family and is expected to marry well, Keats’ boorish friend Charles Armitage Brown (an excellent Paul Schneider, who mostly pulls of his thick Scottish brouge) who is seemingly jealous of his poet friend’s unrecognized genius, wants him all to himself and behaves scornfully, and with suspicion, towards Brawne’s motivations (though Keats has no two schillings to rub together).
Longtime Campion player, Kerry Fox (“Angel At My Table”) plays Brawne’s caring, but concerned-for-her-future, mother and Thomas Sangster (“Love Actually,” “Nanny McPhee”), also appears as her little brother, Samuel.
Should we call the Best Costume and Art Direction Oscar noms now? And Maybe even a nomination for Cornish? (who’s sure to be in the running for the Best Actress Award at Cannes) Surely the beautiful and lush Brawne-designed dresses and raiments will earn three-time Oscar nominated costume designer Janet Patterson a fourth nod that, you can probably bank on (again the Palm d’Or seems within reach and this is the type of film the Academy traditionally loves– at least the old school guard did).
Marked by crisp, sometime sun-dappled cinematography, the look of the film is sumptuous, demonstrating thoughtful and carefully observed dulcet tones that feel incredibly feminine. The cast is exceptional, but Cornish is superb and steals the show, revealing inner monologues and oceans of emotion with furtive glances and quivering eyes.
Marked by a haunting score, the narrative is not weighed down with music, as Keats poems often guide scenes emotionally, but when there is music, it is a thrilling, anxious violin, a brilliant depiction of the intense and desperate love affair that must be kept a secret, because of Brawne’s mother, but it admittedly becomes a poorly-kept one. Brown’s advances at Brawne only add another layer of confusion to their blossoming relationship.
The lovestory, while impassioned and callow is never overwrought and Whishaw and Cornish convey a drunken-kisses fervor minus the melodrama (and voice-overs of his letters to Brawne and her ritual of reading them in bed are also quite palpably intoxicating). The crestfallen mid-section is wonderful, Campion makes curtains softly blowing on ones face, butterflies swooping around a room, and a brisk spring picnic seem so expressively alive, quivering with emotional electricity and of-the-moment profundity.
Ethereal and evincing the elements of a plaintive Nick Drake song or a pretty apple orchard , the pillowy picture however is not dainty to the point of fragility, and its impressionistic qualities are counter balanced by wry humor, the querulous verbal jousts between Schneider and Cornish, plus the dark, heavy-weighted emotional browns of conflict, sorrow, betrayal and tragedy. The weepy conclusion is a little conventional, but we suppose we can forgive that since, it basically follows a historical trajectory, you can’t deviate from. Period pieces can be stuffy affairs, but “Bright Star” transcends that tea-cup laboriousness with a vivid and inspiring portrait of the punchdrunk ache of love.[A]
Recap Fodder: Quentin Tarantino was seen at the same second-day screening we saw. He must have really wanted to see the film to take time out of his busy week of press junkets to see it. And he was enjoying himself as you could hear his riotous laughter at some of the more cheeky and playful flirtatious scenes (it’s not just a dry, masterpiece theater love story for your mom, ok? Also those who think the film’s not “cool” enough. :rolling of eyes:). That man stayed till the very end of the credits–a Keats’ poem–before being manhandled on his way out the back exit door.