"Finding Neverland" is Pure Magic
Johnny Depp/Kate Winslet Tearjerker is One of the Year's Greatest Cinematic Achievements
By Sam Tribiano
I saw Finding Neverland two weeks ago in sneak preview at the Ridgefield Park Loews with Lucille, Bob and Eric, Robert McCartney and moody and extremely difficult to please arbiter of all that is defined by "bad taste" Barry T. Wiseman. After the movie, we engaged in a fascinating discourse with one of the film's screenwriters, who asked us to elaborate on our immediate feelings about the picture. It is been very difficult for me to remain silent on this film, but in the wake of its opening this morning to very strong notices around the nation, the time has come for me to gush, unconditionally.
This picture has been highly-anticipated since early summer, when the annual Oscar predictors had this high-profile Miramax release as a probable nominee in multiple categories. I was skeptical at such high expectations and of the distinct likelihood that such a project would succumb to the obvious pitfalls of blatent sentimentality and tears.
The director Marc Forster, who a few years ago helmed the impressive if slighty overated Monster's Ball with Halle Berry, has coaxed one of the finest enseamble acting accomplishments with the cast of this film. Johnny Depp as J.M. Barrie, seems to underplay the part, but in essence he accurately captures the gentle humor and inexpressible sorrow that defined the life of Peter Pan's eccentric creator. Depp's versatility is made that much more obvious by this drastic departure from the showiness in-your-face turn in Pirates of the Caribbean. He seems to take a cue from the soft lift of his beautifully rendered Scottish accent to create a gently-nuanced portrayal of an artist who at least this once found a way to transform troubled reality in to an imaginative work for the ages. The glorious Kate Winslet (in proper English-Rose mode), who this year has turned in two highly diversified and terrific performances in this film and in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, gives the kind of irresistable performances that awards are made for. The great Julie Christie is simply dazzling as Winslet's mother, a stodgy prig who mistrusts the growing friendship between her daughter and Barrie. An Academy Award for best supporting actress would be warranted for her glowing work in this part. And the finest performance by a child actor this year is rendered by Freddie Highmore who portrays young Peter Llewelyn.
Barrie is married for most of his life, and what I see as the film's only flaw, is its lack of inquiry into the nature of this marriage; in this sense, there seems to be another level concerning Barrie's relations with women that seems to be off-limits for rather obvious reasons. Broadway Bob Eagleson offers the opinion that Barrie was not homosexual but asexual, meaning he had no sex with anyone, including his wife.
In any case, the difficulties Barrie sustained in his personal life did not stop him from persuing his increasingly elaborate adventures with young boys that is evinced in "Peter Pan," escapades that eventually incorporate elements of cowboys and Indians and pirate interplay that work their way into his writing in key ways. The film seems to establish confidence from the outset, as it deftly evokes the world of white-tie theatrical openings and a sophisticated artistic class, just as it nicely suggests Barrie's daily routine, which involves working from a park bench in the company of his enormous dog.
As was suggested to me after the film by Robert McCartney, as opposed to contemporary convention, the dialogue is spoken in hushed, confidential tones, (poorly served by an awful presentation at the Ridgefield Park theatre, which did its best to booby-trap this film with poor projection throughout) and this "understatement" contributes significantly to the slow burn of emotion that gathers in intensity through the film's second half. The picture's true emotional climax comes at a private performance of the "play" for the benefit of the now seriously ailing Sylvia (Winslet). Here earlier "coughing" in the film hinted at her fate. Barrie's devotion to her and her boys, along with his manner of revealing Neverland to her, is exceptionally touching and many moments in the film's final stretch will have audiences welling up and blubbering away.
The film was appropriately shot in England, and its craftsmanship is singularly exemplary. The production design by Gemma Jackson is ravishing, the costumes are evocative and the cinematography by Roberto Schaefer and the lovely score by Jan Kaczmarek are first-rate. There is a rather foolish song by Elton John that plays over the end credits, but by that time it is far too late to violate the controlled temper and atmosphere of this beautiful film. It is clearly one of the year's most impressive achievements.
By Sam Tribiano
I saw Finding Neverland two weeks ago in sneak preview at the Ridgefield Park Loews with Lucille, Bob and Eric, Robert McCartney and moody and extremely difficult to please arbiter of all that is defined by "bad taste" Barry T. Wiseman. After the movie, we engaged in a fascinating discourse with one of the film's screenwriters, who asked us to elaborate on our immediate feelings about the picture. It is been very difficult for me to remain silent on this film, but in the wake of its opening this morning to very strong notices around the nation, the time has come for me to gush, unconditionally.
This picture has been highly-anticipated since early summer, when the annual Oscar predictors had this high-profile Miramax release as a probable nominee in multiple categories. I was skeptical at such high expectations and of the distinct likelihood that such a project would succumb to the obvious pitfalls of blatent sentimentality and tears.
The director Marc Forster, who a few years ago helmed the impressive if slighty overated Monster's Ball with Halle Berry, has coaxed one of the finest enseamble acting accomplishments with the cast of this film. Johnny Depp as J.M. Barrie, seems to underplay the part, but in essence he accurately captures the gentle humor and inexpressible sorrow that defined the life of Peter Pan's eccentric creator. Depp's versatility is made that much more obvious by this drastic departure from the showiness in-your-face turn in Pirates of the Caribbean. He seems to take a cue from the soft lift of his beautifully rendered Scottish accent to create a gently-nuanced portrayal of an artist who at least this once found a way to transform troubled reality in to an imaginative work for the ages. The glorious Kate Winslet (in proper English-Rose mode), who this year has turned in two highly diversified and terrific performances in this film and in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, gives the kind of irresistable performances that awards are made for. The great Julie Christie is simply dazzling as Winslet's mother, a stodgy prig who mistrusts the growing friendship between her daughter and Barrie. An Academy Award for best supporting actress would be warranted for her glowing work in this part. And the finest performance by a child actor this year is rendered by Freddie Highmore who portrays young Peter Llewelyn.
Barrie is married for most of his life, and what I see as the film's only flaw, is its lack of inquiry into the nature of this marriage; in this sense, there seems to be another level concerning Barrie's relations with women that seems to be off-limits for rather obvious reasons. Broadway Bob Eagleson offers the opinion that Barrie was not homosexual but asexual, meaning he had no sex with anyone, including his wife.
In any case, the difficulties Barrie sustained in his personal life did not stop him from persuing his increasingly elaborate adventures with young boys that is evinced in "Peter Pan," escapades that eventually incorporate elements of cowboys and Indians and pirate interplay that work their way into his writing in key ways. The film seems to establish confidence from the outset, as it deftly evokes the world of white-tie theatrical openings and a sophisticated artistic class, just as it nicely suggests Barrie's daily routine, which involves working from a park bench in the company of his enormous dog.
As was suggested to me after the film by Robert McCartney, as opposed to contemporary convention, the dialogue is spoken in hushed, confidential tones, (poorly served by an awful presentation at the Ridgefield Park theatre, which did its best to booby-trap this film with poor projection throughout) and this "understatement" contributes significantly to the slow burn of emotion that gathers in intensity through the film's second half. The picture's true emotional climax comes at a private performance of the "play" for the benefit of the now seriously ailing Sylvia (Winslet). Here earlier "coughing" in the film hinted at her fate. Barrie's devotion to her and her boys, along with his manner of revealing Neverland to her, is exceptionally touching and many moments in the film's final stretch will have audiences welling up and blubbering away.
The film was appropriately shot in England, and its craftsmanship is singularly exemplary. The production design by Gemma Jackson is ravishing, the costumes are evocative and the cinematography by Roberto Schaefer and the lovely score by Jan Kaczmarek are first-rate. There is a rather foolish song by Elton John that plays over the end credits, but by that time it is far too late to violate the controlled temper and atmosphere of this beautiful film. It is clearly one of the year's most impressive achievements.