Stephen Frears
Florence

From my blog

Florence could be the positive surprise of this holiday batch. Managing to make a film featuring a woman who sings off-key pleasant, even delightful, is no small feat. But Stephen Frears uses all his experience to deliver a deeply balanced, solid work without needing to blare it out; a lean structure, very smooth, yet able to accommodate numerous thematic cores, without major explanations, without emphasis. It is primarily the strength of the story of Florence Foster Jenkins that provides thematic richness: but Frears is adept at weaving these reflections without weighing down the narrative or dulling its lively pace. The less attentive audience can easily enjoy the film for its pronounced comedic component, or for the rich performances of the three brilliant main actors: Meryl Streep and Hugh Grant are extraordinary, but also Simon Helberg (Wolowitz) is perfect for the role and able to vary well on the theme.

And so, as the story unfolds, well-paced and without unnecessary redundancies, we get an idea of complex characters like Mr. Bayfield and Florence herself. The former balances hypocrisy, opportunism, and pettiness with higher, more sincere values; Florence is positioned at the border between frivolity, fragility, and instead a strength of spirit and a passion for music, as well as generosity, which partially redeem her limitations. The director’s hand is delicate, without blunt emphasis; Frears lets the characters define themselves through their actions and words. He is in no rush to judge people; but inevitably, in the end, a judgment arrives. And it is certainly not overly kind.

This mature narrative style is also evident in the manner in which information about the characters and their lives is conveyed: little by little, very naturally, without the frenzy of making the viewer understand that something is a lie, or explaining why this or that. Gradually, all the spaces are filled. The absence of breaks and emphasis allows the director to craft decidedly complex human figures.

But it is the themes, often implied, that give an extra edge: the story is almost exemplary for discussing art, public reception, and critical reception. It would be easy to take a conciliatory stance that tends to justify Florence’s actions. Fortunately, this is not done, and the protagonist herself provides a significant interpretation at the end: “Maybe I did not sing well, but I sang.” It is not a matter of right or wrong, but simply the realization of a strong will; the consequences then are varied. From soldiers who appreciate its comedic side, to servile critics who highlight secondary aspects, to intransigent critics who exaggerate harshly, Florence’s emotional friends, her husband sincerely attentive to ensuring that the experience is happy for the elderly woman, to pianist McMoon, only apparently sympathetic with the mediocre singer, in truth opportunistic and materialistic.

The performances of the two lead actors are splendid, able to effectively render the personal contradictions of the characters; the deep love for music and the partial vacuity in Florence, the sincere benevolence and the unrestrained opportunism in Bayfield. These elements coexist admirably thanks to the actors’ skill, but also due to an impeccable screenplay, written with great finesse and able to convey everything to the viewer without emphasizing anything. And then, the delicate soundtrack by Alexandre Desplat, in perfect opposition to the excessive vocalizations of the woman.

7/10