 The Wings of the Dove (1997) It's one of those period dramas that have been more and more prevalent and less and less intersting since the early 90s, when the success of Howard's End (in my opinion, an utterly unmemorable film, paling in comparison to Merchant-Ivory's vastly underrated The Remains of the Day) brought highbrow down a couple notches so the masses could "get a little culture." This one is set for no good reason in 1910 (surely one of the most boring time periods that could have been chosen; perhaps there was a special sale on vests and billowy hats, and the director couldn't pass it up?) London (yawn) and Venice (snore), where Bonham-Carter plays a socialite (yawn) bound by circumstance and choice into a lifestyle she does not love (zzzzzzzz) , desperate to find a way to make her relationship with a working-class (zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz) writer (zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz) a socially acceptable reality. Okay: setting, characters, plot—all boring. I better get on with it before this review becomes boring as well, if in fact it is not already. Bonham-Carter and her lover want to be together, but her Aunt, who is her patron and her connection to polite society, wishes to enter her into a marriage that will ensure her social standing and financial support. Since her Aunt is also supporting her father (who is poverty stricken, yet this is not explained, neither is the question of why the Aunt doesn't just give him some money to get him back on his feet), she feels compelled to go along with the socialite lifestyle, even though it means turning her back on the only man she loves. Bored yet? I sure was. The lover, as a means of getting to see her, takes an older lover who provides him with a ticket into this "polite society." One thing leads to another and soon Helena and her boyfriend are jaunting off to Venice to be with her rich but terminally-ill friend, who they hope to befriend well enough that when she dies they will be left the money. She convinces him to seduce the friend, whereupon their own relationship falls apart. The whole thing plays out like a very lame O. Henry story with lots of obvious irony and overdramatic dialogue. This is not helped by the terrible cinematography, which uses the boring Venetian imagery in particular as though it were meaningful, focussing in on boring gondolas and whatnot for no good reason. To make matters worse, virtually every boring scene in the boring film is a tired cliché, from the "erotically charged" masquerade festival in the town square (done better, as I recall, by Zalman King in Wild Orchid 2, and several other softcore cable delights I remember with onanistic glee) to an ridiculously unnecessary and boring scene literally set in an opium den, to a boring scene where both lovers, in separate countries, stare forlornly out their windows at the same moment, longing for each other while the rain pours down against the window. So stupid! It's the kind of movie that is just best avoided, even though it is not, as Ron Banks would say, "truly bad." The film was very well-received by critics, many of whom seem to be instantly fooled by anything not set in the present day. I tell you, period setting and costume does not automatically mean "good," as The Age of Innocence proved so resoundingly. The Wings of the Dove avoids being thoroughly miserable like some other, equally boring movies (The Last Days of Disco springs immediately to mind like a big ass shitting on my face), mainly owing to its performances and some last-minute nudity that livens things up. Next time I'll skip all this nonsense and go straight for the nudity. Private Lessons, here I come!
Review by Jojo Mr. Mrs. Dr. Movielover |