I’m writing this review long after the release
hype and the beginning of the awards season. Let me be as clear as possible,
then, when I say The Hours is not the best film of the year -- however, I
have no problem if it should win the Academy Award come March.
The Hours is a fine movie. Stephen Daldry’s direction is crisp and
intentional. David Hare’s screenplay, based on the Pulitzer Prize winning
novel by Michael Cunningham, is distilled and never cerebral at the expense of
emotion. The performances, including Meryl Streep, Julianne Moore, Nicole Kidman
and Ed Harris, are uniformly restrained and devastating. If these integral
ingredients were not as they are, it’s quite possible the film could have
become melodramatic and worse, sentimental.
The narrative follows three women in three different decades, all bound by the
text of Virginia Woolf’s novel Mrs. Dalloway. This is adult material,
and that’s not particularly fashionable in this age. Since fashion and
quality aren’t necessarily of the same cloth, The Hours is a bit
refreshing.
There’s a sense of intimate humanity on display here that’s rarely seen in
motion pictures these days. All too often movies are either ironic or
saccharine. As well, most multi-character/multi-plot tapestries attempt too much
technically, like Magnolia, and aren’t secure enough to let the
material itself do the impressing. We’re put into situations where the
individual moment is most important -- moments where life and death become as
light as the ether -- moments usually reserved for war films.
Stephen Daldry previously directed Billy Elliott and received an Oscar
nomination for his effort. This film is an unanticipated leap from the feel-good
nature of his debut. His camera and editing choices are tight and
meticulous, but never call great attention to themselves. It’s his restraint
and attention to detail that most impressed me. I should also single out his
collaborator, the editor Peter Boyle, for holding everything together.
Of course, the most talked about aspect of The Hours has been its
performances, in particular Nicole Kidman’s as Mrs. Woolf. The talk is
well-deserved, though too much has been made of her prosthetic nose; the
performance would’ve been brilliant regardless. Along with Naomi Watts and
Samantha Morton, she’s the riskiest and most skillful actress working right
now. This isn’t to exclude Julianne Moore, who might receive two nominations
this year. I just feel that her body of work is longer and more extensive -- and
almost taken for granted at this point. Like Meryl Streep. I’m still absorbing
the newfound expressiveness of Kidman’s work over the past two years. She’s
become a swan.
Paramount, which is releasing the film, is the only major studio to have offered
any serious fare this year. All of the other Oscar contenders -- About
Schmidt, Chicago, The Pianist, Far From Heaven and The Lord of the Rings
-- were released by mini-majors Focus Features, New Line Cinema and Miramax,
respectively. This tells us two things: one, that the majors weren’t
interested in quality films; and two, quality is not inherent to smaller
studios. -Jamie Stuart
GRADE: A
-Copyright 2003 by
Jamie
Stuart