Score: 4 / 5
I'm not sure we wanted a movie about Gloria Grahame. She was never that great, always in Marilyn Monroe's shadow on screen and in life, and there's that icky story about her affair with her 13-year-old stepson. But here we are, and thankfully this film follows the true-to-life account of Peter Turner's affair with the aging actress in a manner not unlike My Week with Marilyn. It's a sweet, warm, and ultimately sappily sentimental picture about love, death, and legacy, and that's all it needs to be.
Of course, it's helmed by Annette Bening who, as usual, shines brilliantly as Grahame, with her affected, lilting voice and lingering eyes. Countering her is Jamie Bell as Turner in what might be his best performance yet (certainly his sexiest!). Theirs is a sordid love story, rote and often banal in this film, one that heavily relies on clichés to finish the job. There are also a surprising amount of mommy issues in this picture; while that invites Julie Walters and Vanessa Redgrave in for supporting roles, it didn't do much to endear the characters to this viewer.
As a film about art and the tireless effort of artists to do what they love, I enjoyed it. As a film about an unlikely love affair between a mostly unlikable, conceited older woman and and endlessly likable, confident and giving younger man, I found it problematic but pleasing to watch. As a historical account of Grahame's last days, I don't know and I don't care about its accuracy. I'd be remiss not to praise director Paul McGuigan (Sherlock, Victor Frankenstein, Luke Cage), however, for some amazing work, as well as the cinematographer for the same: My favorite moments occur when the narrative jumps through time in a single take, as Turner walks through a door and the light changes and the scene changes but there are no editing cuts. Those were lovely.
It would be a charming movie to watch on a date, at night, in a beach house maybe or after a warm Italian dinner; it's just sweet and simple and, yes, pretty damn sad.
Of course, it's helmed by Annette Bening who, as usual, shines brilliantly as Grahame, with her affected, lilting voice and lingering eyes. Countering her is Jamie Bell as Turner in what might be his best performance yet (certainly his sexiest!). Theirs is a sordid love story, rote and often banal in this film, one that heavily relies on clichés to finish the job. There are also a surprising amount of mommy issues in this picture; while that invites Julie Walters and Vanessa Redgrave in for supporting roles, it didn't do much to endear the characters to this viewer.
As a film about art and the tireless effort of artists to do what they love, I enjoyed it. As a film about an unlikely love affair between a mostly unlikable, conceited older woman and and endlessly likable, confident and giving younger man, I found it problematic but pleasing to watch. As a historical account of Grahame's last days, I don't know and I don't care about its accuracy. I'd be remiss not to praise director Paul McGuigan (Sherlock, Victor Frankenstein, Luke Cage), however, for some amazing work, as well as the cinematographer for the same: My favorite moments occur when the narrative jumps through time in a single take, as Turner walks through a door and the light changes and the scene changes but there are no editing cuts. Those were lovely.
It would be a charming movie to watch on a date, at night, in a beach house maybe or after a warm Italian dinner; it's just sweet and simple and, yes, pretty damn sad.
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