We have been here before: twice, to be precise. The story of lower-middle-class artist Charles Ryder and his relations with the aristocratic Marchmain clan was first told by Evelyn Waugh in the 1945 novel whose full title is Brideshead Revisited : The Sacred and Profane Memories of Captain Charles Ryder, and then in the 1981 ITV adaptation (officially) scripted by John Mortimer, its 11 hour-long episodes directed (separately) by Charles Sturridge and Michael Lindsay-Hogg. Both book and TV show are regarded as classics in their medium - it's therefore unfortunate that this first big-screen version shouldn't even be one of the less notable releases of the month, let alone the year or the decade.
   The most obvious major problem is the length: "Mortimer's" exhaustively comprehensive version took 660 minutes to cover Waugh's 351 pages; the movie - (officially) written by Andrew Davies (best known for TV adaptations, and whose last film to obtain release was 2004's woeful Bridget Jones sequel) and Jeremy Brock (The Last King of Scotland; Driving Lessons; Charlotte Gray) - runs a mere 132. In terms of the champagne which Brideshead's younger characters near-incessantly quaff, the contents of a 15-litre Nebuchadnezzar have been poured into a 3-litre Jeroboam, with a predictably vast and messy amount of spillage.
   This is a shame, as the central themes of Waugh's book - specifically, the nature of Catholicism within the upper echelons of British society, remain topical over six decades later. The 1700-01 Acts of Settlement remain on the UK's statutes, explicitly decreeing that "every person, who shall be reconciled to, or hold communion with the Church or Rome, or profess the popish religion, or marry a papist, shall be excluded, and for ever incapable to inherit or enjoy the crown, &c." The recent conversions of Tony Blair and Princess Anne's new daughter-in-law Autumn Kelly (he from Church Of England to Catholic, she the other way around) show that this subject is of no mere theoretical import.
   The film, however, concentrates much more on the romantic aspects of Waugh's plot: the ongoing infatuation of atheist Ryder (Matthew Goode) with Lady Julia Flyte (Hayley Atwell) and, to a much lesser extent, his intimate friendship with Julia's dissolute brother Sebastian (Ben Whishaw) and his fixation upon their stately pile, Brideshead. These connections bring him into contact with the siblings' estranged parents: the dandyish Marquess of Marchmain (Michael Gambon), jovial, God-rejecting resident of the Venetian palazzo he shares with his worldly-wise mistress Cara (Greta Scacchi); and the icily domineering Lady Marchmain (Emma Thompson), who chiefly regards Ryder as a tool with which to control her son's wayward impulses.
   The film focusses chiefly on Ryder, Julia and Sebastian, with the older characters largely restricted to the sidelines - unfortunate, as Thompson and Gambon provide much more vivid and intriguing characterisations than the slightly-colourless trio of juvenile leads. Patrick Malahide, as Ryder's sardonic father, is even better value - but his contribution is restricted to a couple of brief appearances that amount to little more than an extended cameo.
   The burden thus falls upon Goode, Whishaw and Atwell - and while they certainly look the part, and have a couple of strong scenes each, we never get a sufficient sense of the grand passions which seemingly motivate their behaviour over the story's roughly decade-long timespan. It doesn't help that hardly anyone seems to age during the course of these years, or that the characters are so isolated from the geo-political upheavals unfolding elsewhere in the world ("there's a war coming with Hitler," we hear at one stage.)
   Of course, this is partly deliberate - reflecting the solipsistic preoccupations of these immature individuals, so consumed as they are by artistic and social aspirations (Ryder - who occasionally comes across as a benign, guileless cousin of Patricia Highsmith's Tom Ripley), deepening religious intensity (Julia) or soulful, aesthetic hedonism (Sebastian).
   But the picture never really feels like any kind of indictment of such failings - director Jarrold and his collaborators are chiefly concerned with constructing a conventional, Oscar-and-BAFTA-friendly kind of edifice, handsomely mounted and with a near-incessant orchestral score, within which the actors too often remain stifled and trapped. In more general terms, British cinema has been "here" many, many times before already - and if we must revisit such "heritage" terrain yet again, a little more in the way of originality, audacity and boldness would certainly not go amiss.

Neil Young
29.Sep.08

--------------------------------------------------------------------

UK
133m (BBFC timing)

director : Julian Jarrold (Becoming Jane, Kinky Boots, Becoming Jane, etc)
editor : Chris Gill (Outpost, 28 Weeks Later, Sunshine, etc)

seen 23.Sep.08 Newcastle (Empire cinema : press show)