Call Toronto 2014 the year of the British actor. Heading the list, of course, is Eddie Redmayne in The Theory of Everything, a biopic about Stephen Hawking. Also mesmerizing is Benedict Cumberbatch as Alan Turing in The Imitation Game. My personal fave, though in a less flamboyant role, is Tom Hardy as a Brooklyn bartender in The Drop. At moments he seems almost to be channeling Marlon Brando.
And the actresses? Sadly, they simply haven’t gotten the parts to strut their stuff in. The exceptions include Felicity Jones and her lovely portrait of Jane Hawking, the physicist’s indomitable wife of 25 years. And Juliette Binoche and Nina Hoss, who shine, respectively, in Clouds of Sils Maria and Phoenix. I’ve not seen Coming Home by Zhang Yimou, China’s greatest filmmaker, but I gather that Gong Li is tremendous.
Also dominating the scene this year are biopics and films based on true stories. The crowd-pleasing potential – and consequent appeal to the money men – is obvious. It happened! It’s real!
In the face of all the hoopla and Oscar talk about Theory and Imitation, I should admit I’m not a great fan of the biopic as a genre. I see it as basically a filmed memoir or illustrated biography. And too many biopics tend to be by-the-numbers, with actors channeling their subject – which is, after all, an actor’s job – plus fancy time shifts, all of it finished off with nice camera work.
But Eddie Redmayne in The Theory of Everything transcends – or pretty nearly – the limitations of the genre. At TIFF, it’s buzzed that come Oscar time, Redmayne’s the one to beat, that he’s this year’s Daniel Day-Lewis in My Left Foot.
Stephen Hawking (Redmayne) and Jane (Felicity Jones) fall in love while students at Cambridge. When Jane learns of his earth-shattering diagnosis, she says, “I want to be with you as long as I can and when it ends that’s just the way it is.” Who could resist that mix of English sensibleness and nobility? As his body fails, Hawking pursues his ambitious study of the nature of time, Jane fending off medical doomsayers and protecting his ability to write groundbreaking books.
Redmayne captures Hawking to an uncanny degree, including all the phases of his physical decline – the actor even looks like the young Hawking! But this is no illness-of-the-week drama. It’s a moving portrait of a marriage. And a full marriage it is; the couple have three children – “different system,” Hawking replies with a twinkle, when asked how he managed.
And it’s a celebration of the human spirit. Along with his uncommon brain, Hawking’s hallmark is his ever-present humor, which Redmayne manages to convey with his eyes and eyebrows, as he’s reduced to communicating through a voice machine. Fate deals Hawking a horrible blow – and he spits in its face. People will walk out of this film feeling better about themselves and their fellow humans.
In The Imitation Game by Morten Tyldun, Benedict Cumberbatch resurrects Alan Turing, a genius of a different stripe who during WWII broke the Nazi Enigma Code and consequently saved millions of lives. Imitation works on several fronts: it moves fluidly through three different time frames – the 50’s when Turing is being persecuted by the police for indecent behavior (i.e. homosexual encounters); his prep school past; and his time at Bletchley when he and his team cracked the code.
Despite the fascinating historical aspect – and those Brits, again showing their acting chops – Imitation delivers less impact than Theory. It’s heavy-handed and too on-the-nose in portraying the resistance Turing faced from his boss (Charles Dance), as if the screenwriter needed to jimmy up the drama. Whenever you see the Opposition going red-faced with anger, assume the screenwriter is desperate.
The film’s main flaw, though, is that Turing is presented is an Aspergian-type character unable to make human connections – at least onscreen. Presumably he makes them off-screen, since the cops are on his case for consorting with a man who subsequently robs him.
The chilliness and opacity of the character limits the film’s impact. I’d also fault the filmmakers for failing to explore queer desire. All we get is Turing proposing to colleague Keira Knightley in order to keep her on his team to break the code. I mean, the English may be repressed, but wouldn’t she have sensed he was, well, not that into her? Moreover, the film never connects the dots between Britain’s barbarian attitudes toward homosexuality and Turing’s eventual suicide. The soaring score – signaling Big Historical Film – by the reliably fine Alexandre Desplat somewhat counters the prevailing coldness.
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