Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day (2008)
I cannot for the life of me remember who on my friends list made me aware of this movie, and thus of the book. If it was you: Thank you!* Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day (1938), by Winifred Watson, is a thoroughly delightful book about the healing power of female friendship, good clothes, makeup, and having fun, not to mention the marvellous liberating power of cocktails, make-believe, and rising to the occasion. One morning Miss Pettigrew, friendless 40ish spinster and failed governess at her wits' end, arrives on the doorstep of Delysia LaFosse, actress and nightclub singer with far too many men in her life. Hijinks ensue. Over the day that follows Miss Pettigrew becomes both Cinderella and fairy godmother, and a good time and a happy ending are had by all (well, all who deserve a happy ending, anyway).
Jen and I saw the movie Friday night, and I am sad to report that it is significantly less awesome than the source material. Writers David Magee and Simon Beaufoy have taken pretty much all the elements that made the book great, discarded them, and replaced them with female back-stabbing and ominous pre-war overtones. Amy Adams is delightful (although her Miss LaFosse lacks the native shrewdness of the original) and Frances McDormand does yeoman work with a script that mostly requires her to stand around looking half-starved and miserable. Lee Pace and Ciaran Hinds are both adorable as their respective love interests, but dear God, was it really necessary to turn Shirley Henderson's Miss Dubarry into such a scheming nightmare? And to do so much violence to the plot? I mean, yes, there wasn't much to the plot, but it was perfectly serviceable the way it was.
At least the movie looks pretty. Too bad it's had most of the fun leached out of it. Read the book instead.
*Turns out it was nineweaving.
Jen and I saw the movie Friday night, and I am sad to report that it is significantly less awesome than the source material. Writers David Magee and Simon Beaufoy have taken pretty much all the elements that made the book great, discarded them, and replaced them with female back-stabbing and ominous pre-war overtones. Amy Adams is delightful (although her Miss LaFosse lacks the native shrewdness of the original) and Frances McDormand does yeoman work with a script that mostly requires her to stand around looking half-starved and miserable. Lee Pace and Ciaran Hinds are both adorable as their respective love interests, but dear God, was it really necessary to turn Shirley Henderson's Miss Dubarry into such a scheming nightmare? And to do so much violence to the plot? I mean, yes, there wasn't much to the plot, but it was perfectly serviceable the way it was.
At least the movie looks pretty. Too bad it's had most of the fun leached out of it. Read the book instead.
*Turns out it was nineweaving.