Movie review: 'Mr. Turner' is looong and laborious

Timothy Spall is J.M.W. Turner in Mr. Turner by Sony Pictures Classics

 

Oh, please.  This is another one of those movie critics' movies, the kind they like and write about for each other.  Rather like that depressing cat movie of last year.

At Rotten Tomatoes, this may come as a shock, but the critics have given Mr. Turner a 97, while we the people who count, who rate, who provide the ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-chang, chang gave it a 61.  That's a big spread. 

We the people tend to ignore the critics and for good reason!  They've got their favorites, and we've got ours, and this ain't one. 

Who do you trust? 

Oh, sure, Timothy Spall does a fine acting job as J.M.W. Turner (1775-1851), the painter, as do all the women in the film (Marion Bailey, Dorothy Atkinson,  Ruth Sheen), and I have no doubt Spall will be nominated for an Oscar, but acting,  beautiful scenery (like Turner's art), and period costuming (by Jacqueline Durran) can't carry the ball without a playbook. Those who come and pay to see movies would like some action, please, a story line featuring more than a joyless, moody artist harrumping and grabbing about.  The script is languid, rather like Turner's pace, a little faster than a drunken slug on New Year's Eve.

(In this role, Spall is proof positive that when it comes to sex appeal, looks don't matter.  Position and money are what counts.)
 
It's another movie, ho hum, which treats women as second-class citizens, but in the 19th century, I don't think they were citizens at all. Women meant nothing to Turner except when he "needed" them. Grrrummmmmpppp.....or is that grrooppe? 
 
Turner is not as good as another film about an artist (Big Eyes) which is pretty miraculous that two films are out at the same time about the lives of artists, but Big Eyes was a pleasant surprise, and coming soon,  a review of it. 

The fact that I had to hold my head at a 125 degree angle the whole time at E Street trying to see Mr. Turner certainly made matters worse.  It was the 5 p.m. show last Saturday, and the theater was all booked except for the very front.  Yeeks.  Terrible seats.  I poked the guy next to me who was about 12 going on 35, and voiced my complaint, and naturally, he agreed. I couldn't tell if those in the front three rows had neck cricks or were fast asleep. 

Producers:  Where is the movie on strong women?  Why do we always have to play second fiddle and be your pawns?  I want to see Joan of Arc take on the British, Tina stomp on Ike, Queen Isabella of Spain rule the world, and Catherine of Russia dish it.  You go, girls! 

I can't wait to see the new woman vampire film.  Eat'em up!  Let's go!

patricialesli@gmail.com

 

'Quartet' is sweet and slooowww

BBC Films

 

Like the wheels on a wheelchair which go round and round, these are the days of their lives in a retirement community for musicians at a luxurious estate in Buckinghamshire, England. 

Has there been a more placid British film? 

Dustin Hoffman may not look 75 but his directorial debut affirms his age.  He must have had nursing homes in mind when he made Quartet since it’s ripe pickings for them.  And quite predictable.

Except for a few critical F-bombs, the movie is harmless, however, shorn of the dull parts and with more hilarious lines, the movie could have been lots better.  Give me those late night writers! And some action, please.  What?  We can’t stand to see old people kiss and make hoochee? Or sing?

Quartet is about as lively as Tom Courtenay and Maggie Smith in this scene/BBC Films 

 

Show stealers are certainly Pauline Collins and Billy Connolly.   Why would anyone like Maggie Smith’s character want to re-marry a grumpy old man like Tom Courtenay's character?  Had he hinted at a smile once, his face might have fallen off. Women are not that desperate, Mr. Hoffman. Please supply some humor occasionally, Grumpy Old Man.

Unless scenery (Mother Nature) is a new category, the movie will win no awards, but the musical score is grand (Dario Marianelli).

Had a travel agent been posted at the theater exit, she/he would have needed an assistant.  Two assistants.  I am ready to go!  (With a side trip to Leicester, please.)

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Hang around for the credits at the end to rock your wheelchair.

At E-Street last Friday night, the 7:15 p.m. feature was almost sold out (small theater) to those generally above age 50.  No surprise, however, the vast quantities of wine consumed by moviegoers and the clinking of discarded bottles upon the floor at the end were ear lifters.