We saw “An Education” months ago, yet the life of a blogger is such that you look up and go, “oh shit, it comes out this weekend!” Yes, it’s a rough one and you should cry Argentina for us for sure.
Regardless, everything you’ve heard about Danish filmmaker Lone Scherfig’s “An Education” is true. It’s a tremendous piece of work and a near perfect film replete with quivering emotional performances (and as you’ve heard, the incredible Carey Mulligan has an Oscar nom in the bag; but also a sublime supporting cast), wonderful aesthetics (cinematography, costumes, art direction and modish music picks are impeccably chosen) and exhilarating moments that squarely transport you right back into that butterfly-stomache’d place of adolescent amazement; being awed and overwhelmed with the astonishment of discovery. In this case, for Mulligan’s 16-year-old suburban schoolgirl character, it’s discovering the world outside the cage that is the domineering, drab and hyper-Conservative microcosm created by her parents, mostly her meek, middle-of-the-road father (an excellent Alfred Molina who might easily net himself an Oscar supporting nomination as well).
The beguiling “An Education” is easily one of the better films of this, so far, unimpressive year and one that should have Oscar on its mind come February. Nick Hornby’s sharp yet subtle script is filled with bon mots and mannered English subtext; strict and stern school teachers never say what they mean outwardly, but the icy messages always read loud and clear (it’s so masterfully British). Carey Mulligan’s terrific and magnetic performance is a revelation and she seems like a hard-and-fast lock for a nomination. And if there is a cinema god out there, this picture will find itself among the Oscar Best Picture 10.
Set in pre-Beatles 1961 London suburbs, there’s not a dull moment in this shimmering and vibrant portrait of a promising young school girl who is introduced to an affluent, glamorous world she never dreamed existed by an urbane and charming older suitor (a solid Peter Sarsgaard, though his accent isn’t perfect; he’s likely not awards bound).
Watching Mulligan’s fiercely intelligent Jenny wake up to the exciting world outside her incarceratingly tedious, placid and classicist home life that is laser focused on getting into Oxford University, is a genuinely joyous treat and both filmmaker and actress immerse you in the thrilling rush and wonder of discovery and awakening.
Mulligan is truly dazzling with every little gesture; a sly, excited bite of the lip, a reserved giggle, you can just feel her bursting at the seams with intoxicating glimpses at this new world. Watching her go through these emotions is absolutely breathtaking, and Scherfig does her best to facilitate these moments, whether simply capturing these fly-on-the-wall moments of truth or injecting little bursts of vivid style — each choice feels absolutely perfect.
Set to a pre-swinging beat — smoky, raccoon-eyed mascara jazz by Beth Rowley, french pop by Juliette Gréco, romantic sonnets (Percy Faith & His Orchestra), torch burners and hip teenage vamps (The Hunters, Mel Tormé) — this colorful coming of age portrait is far richer and layered than your average bildungsroman tale (and the soundtrack is truly one of the year’s freshest).
So the long and short: the story is about Jenny; a young, bookish teenage cello player (Mulligan) whose dull, adolescent routine is irrevocably interrupted by a dapper smooth operator. Caught in the rain after school, Jenny perchances upon the charming, gentleman David (Sarsgaard) who generously offers her a lift home in his stylish ’60s ride, so her instrument isn’t ruined by the British downpour. After this kismet meeting the suave suitor begins to woo the girl, yet uses the most chivalrous ways to court her. Before her fuddy-duddy bourgeois father can even begin to protest to dating such an older man (and spending time with something other than a textbook), David has seemingly already slipped into their home charming their pants off with booze, agreeable wit, and as racounteur of his world-weary travels. The fussy father, who is perennially obsessed with her schoolwork, homework and grades (the sympathetic and understanding mother is played by Cara Seymour) is immediately disarmed and marveled by his stories. Soon the curfews and rules start to bend by the sheer will of David’s bewitching charisma (a guileless schoolboy admirer played by Matthew Beard is quickly kicked to the curb).
It begins with a night on the town but turns into smoky and hip jazz clubs, fabulous nightlife spots, dinners, dancing, mysterious hotspots and soon progresses to weekend trips to Paris and the godly Oxford to visit David’s “friend” C.S. Lewis (a sly fabrication that David perpetuates to impress the folks and a “once-in-a-lifetime” excuse to get away). The sophisticated David introduces her to his equally cultured, socialite friends (the handsome and dashing Dominic Cooper) and their dumb-as-hammers but stylish arm-candy (the excellent comic relief that is Rosamund Pike’s ignoramus character). They dine in posh restaurants, dash off to concertos, operas and exotic art auctions, essentially reveling in all that Jenny has ever imagined about and read in her books. And again, watching Jenny’s exuberance to this new universe is simply infectious. You wish you were there (and truthfully it looks, smells and feels as cool as any place you could possibly go today).
The seduction of Jenny seems all but complete, when cracks in the dreamworld rear their head in the form of the school girl’s teacher and mentor Miss Stubbs (Olivia Williams, still probably best known for her role as Ms. Cross in “Rushmore”) who’s disappointment with the visibly distracted Jenny (her star pupil) begins to deepen, threatening their relationship. The whispers of glittering nightlife jaunts with an older man begin to grow to a dull roar and soon the astringent headmistress (a wonderfully severe Emma Thompson) is cautioning her reckless ways and hinting at expulsion.
Meanwhile, the cosmopolitan sheen of David is diminished when it’s revealed that he and Danny (Dominic Cooper) hoodwink old beattys who are completely ignorant of the valuable antiques and heirlooms in their houses. Without revealing too much more, David is too good to be true and Jenny suddenly finds that this education in the world comes at a heavy price.
While nothing is ever contrived in the picture and every second does feel genuine, the one perhaps hokey element of the film (if you do want to throw some criticism in an otherwise mostly glowing review) is it’s metaphoric title. Yes, she’s learning about the “education of life,” while struggling as to whether she should actually stick with true, higher learning or proceed with this new, seemingly more tangible and liberating direction. Yes, there’s a double meaning and its clever, but it’s a bit har har clever. The conflict can sound rather trite on paper, but thankfully, richness, maturity and brilliant nuance abounds throughout and nowhere does the film feel cheap or didactic.
If there is one issue with the picture that pretty much every critic seems to agree on is “An Education” does suffer from a wobbly ending that wraps up far too abruptly, that’s moralistically too easy, and perhaps is just far too calculated and mawkish, but what precedes it is simply too exquisite and scintillating to ignore or become ruined. It’s been a dealbreaker for extra cynical critics, but it’s more confounding than destructive.
An engrossing look at class (natch), temptation, choice, duty and balance, not to mention a woman’s role in early 1960s England and the heavy expectations that come in hand, “An Education,” is a coruscating look at worldly vivication and while it might have a cliche or two in its message, it’s just too authentically warm, tender and irresistible to not be swept away with. [A-]