Synopsis: An exploration of the last quarter century of the great, if eccentric, British painter J.M.W. Turner’s life.
Stars: Timothy Spall, Ruth Sheen, Martin Savage, Lesley Manville, Karl Johnson, Paul Jesson, Dorothy Atkinson,Marion Bailey, Sandy Foster, Amy Dawson, Richard Bremmer
Director: Mike Leigh
Running Length: 150 minutes
Trailer Review: Here
TMMM Score: (5/10)
Review: The more movies I see I realize that I’m developing a real shine to the “Watch Me” kind of film experience. What I mean by that is that I much prefer a director to have some faith in the audience and allow us to be taken in not by telegraphed scenes that are necessarily easy to discern meaning from but by plots/characters/moments that require a little extra attention to be paid. As opposed to the “Show Me” kind of style, the “Watch Me” director has faith in the material and, though it may cater to a specific crowd, it’s not always made for a ridged target audience.
That being said, let me start off my review of Mr. Turner by saying that the thing I like most about director Mike Leigh is that he’s not a “Show Me” kind of director. Leigh has historically given his work a lot of slack, allowing them to mosey forth instead of speed ahead. Let me also say that Mr. Turner is very worthy of its four Oscar nominations for Dick Pope’s Cinematography, the Production Design from Suzie Davies & Charlotte Watts, Jacqueline’s Durran’s Costume Design, and Gary Yershon’s Original Score. All artistically sound and playing perfectly into the historic drama based on the life of artist J.M.W. Turner.
But good heavens, the film is tedious. The old saying about watching paint dry has never been more true (or literal) as in Mr. Turner.
Now look, I’m not one to turn my nose up at long period pieces nor would I begrudge any who would…but Leigh’s languid film surely is paced just as deliberately as the director intended but it’s a murder on the backside unless you have the benefit of taking in Mr. Turner from the comfort of your own lounge chair.
Had Leigh’s direction been less artful or Timothy Spall’s performance been conveyed with the smallest hint of artifice, this would be the stuff of tortuous college lecture halls — but coupled with the aforementioned worthy production team there’s a beauty to the proceedings, giving it quite a lot of purpose even when there’s not a lot of vested interest.
Aside from Spall, there’s splendid performances from Dorothy Atkinson as Turner’s long-suffering maid and Marion Bailey as a widow that provides a bit of spark to Turner’s later years. These are the scenes that carry the movie forward, bridges between more than a few interminable passages of watch-checking.
Whatever portrait this review may have painted for Mr. Turner, make no mistake that it’s a glorious looking film…but time is of the essence and beauty, like a great painting, can only be stared at for so long.