International Emmys winners were announced  Monday night, Nov. 23 at the Hilton New York.

Emmy Awards nominee Angel Locsin wearing the 1 million-peso gown designed by Michael Cinco, the same designer who made Miss Earth First Runner Up Sandra Seifert's evening gown.

BEST PERFORMANCE BY AN ACTOR

Ben Whishaw
Criminal Justice
BBC, United Kingdom

BEST PERFORMANCE BY AN ACTRESS

Julie Walters
A Short Stay in Switzerland
BBC, United Kingdom

COMEDY

Hoshi Shinichi’s Short Shorts
Telecom Staff for NHK in association with NHK Enterprises, Japan

DRAMA SERIES

The Protectors
Danish Broadcasting Corporation in association with ZDF / NRK / SVT
Denmark

TELENOVELA

India – A Love Story
TV Globo, Brazil

CHILDREN & YOUNG PEOPLE

Dustbin Baby
United Kingdom

ARTS PROGRAMMING

The Mona Lisa Curse
United Kingdom

DOCUMENTARY

The Ascent of Money
United Kingdom

NON-SCRIPTED ENTERTAINMENT

The Phone
The Netherlands

Some news about Ben Whishaw’s new play “Cock”  has just been released, and it’s pretty juicy.  While you can read inside what that is, I have no doubt that this will cause some sort of controversy due to the plot… Even today subjects like this tend to make people lose their crap.

So please come inside for pictures from the play and text!

SOURCE

The Royal Court has posted up promotional photos from the new Mike Bartlett written play Cock, which stars Ben Whishaw, Paul Jesson, Katherine Parkinson, and Andrew Scott. It tells the story of a happily partnered gay man of seven years who one day falls in love with a woman. Yes, Ben is playing this character. Something for everyone! Cock will be running till December 19, but is currently sold out! If you live in/around the New York area, you can catch Ben and Hugh Dancy in The Pride this January.

On a side note, I would freakin LOVE to go see his play in January… Eff living too far away from NYC.

This post has been brought to you by kittens and rainbows which is  what Ben’s soul is made of.

After Beau Brummell, it’s hard to go wrong — and Bright Star doesn’t.

SPOILER WARNING

This 119-minute film, directed by Jane Campion, debuted at Cannes in May and was received with great praise. Unfortunately, it’s not playing in big theatres across the country, though it is likely infinitely better than half the things out there right now. This film is has raised the bar for costume dramas, though it is more along the lines of a visual poem, than the standard period flick.

The first thing one notices is the beautiful score (which is thankfully available for purchase). Music can redeem or condemn a mediocre film, and though Bright Star is hardly mediocre, rarely does a score compliment the tone of a film so harmoniously. The cello pieces are simply breathtaking.

I went into the movie with a standard high-school education on John Keats’s works and nebulous remembrance of what I had read in previous years about him; the name of his beloved was Fanny Brawne and he died at age 25 from tuberculosis — and something about Hampstead Heath. But no prior knowledge of Keats is necessary to appreciate this film, and I would almost say those who know nothing will have a more intoxicating experience. I am anxious to discover more about the character Mr. Brown, a man who was obviously significant figure in the young poet’s life, yet of whom I remember reading nothing. Of course, this film is as much Fanny Brawne’s story as it is Keats’s, and watching this somewhat unknown woman develop is enthralling.

The acting by both Ben Whishaw and Abbie Cornish is spectacular. Whishaw has been criticized for being “flimsy”, or something to that effect, but I believe his ability to make Keats’s so beautifully human has simply been misinterpreted — all of the actors have mastered the Art of Humanity. Bright Star is a dynamic movie, dominated by neither comedy nor drama nor tragedy as some historical films are, but infusing all of these into an emotionally pure glimpse of the true lives of real people, separated from us by years alone. As I watched Fanny crawl onto her bed and sit cross-legged reading, I was hit by the realization that I had been blinded; costume dramas, for all their brilliance and beauty, had unconsciously elevated these people in my mind to a point of near sublimity — Bright Star brings them softly down again. The interactions between the characters are complicated and sometimes make little sense, but that’s life, is it not?

The idea that Fanny Brawn was an avid costumer surprised me. The movie makes it clear that she lived solidly in the middle class, but I suppose with decent fabrics, a hand for sewing, and an eye for design, one can look quite fashionable in entirely handmade clothes. Even today it is amazing what some people can do with old jeans and wares from Goodwill. Save for the pink ruffled thing she wears in the rain scene, Fanny looks beautiful in everything outfit and still retains, quite appropriately, that girl-next-door quality.

Perhaps that is why this movie is so touching. It’s the classic next-door-neighbor romance, and it’s all true!

There’s not a dull moment in Bright Star — and for a subject matter about poems and love, it takes a true artist to pull that off in a two-hour production. Jane Campion harmoniously blends breath-taking visuals, historical details, Keats’s stunning poetry, and honest sentiment into a dream of a film. I give it 5 out of 5 stars.

Check out these Reviews:

The Independent: “Bright Star”

Telegraph: “Bright Star, review”

The Times: “Bright Star”

New York Times: “Bright Star”

The freezing north wind was blowing on her face; Marcie was shivering, naked and desperate somewhere in the Arctic Circle. There was snow everywhere and it was already covering her feet and reaching her knees. A strange noise of bulldozers and snowmobiles was becoming louder and louder. Magically she was teleported to the top of Parliament Hill, in Hampstead Heath. She was running up and down carrying a purple duvet sometimes as a gown, other times as a cape. A growing heat emanating from within her was keeping her alive. Her heart was beating fast and every beat was filling her veins with a warm blood that slowly melted all the snow and ice of the mountains. A very good feeling took her over and the image of her loved one appeared. The wind started to blow again, the sound of cars and trucks seemed to be closer. All of a sudden an irritating alarm clock started to ring.

Opening her eyes she noticed she was still in her bed. The partially opened window was allowing the chilly wind to enter the room. In a brisk movement she stood up and closed the window, the sound of cars and trucks ceased. The thick purple duvet was on the ground next to the bed. Despite this she still had a smile on her face.

Marcie stumbled into the heated bathroom and had a long shower to wake her up. Grabbing the only towel in the hanger, she dried her arms, her legs, her breasts and back. She wiped the foggy mirror and looked herself for some seconds, rolling the towel on her thin body.

Looking at the mirror, she smiled at herself and thought about the lovely man she had been going out with. For the first time in her life she was letting herself fall in love. She was 35 and never had a real relationship with someone. She decided to let it happen and suddenly it happened. Two months ago this man just showed up, coming from nowhere, to the museum she worked at and asked her out. She blushed when he said she was the best piece of art of the museum. He was an art professor.

Before turning off the lights, she scanned the bathroom as if it was not hers, seeing one towel, one toothbrush and her perfume standing alone to one side. In the shower cubicle just her shampoo and her shower gel stood in isolation.

Marcie knew her days of lonely dreams, one tooth brush by the basin and one set of towels on the hanger, were about to finish. And she couldn’t be happier about that.

The automated coffee machine which was already dripping some coffee in the container was set for one cup only. Some minutes later, already dressed up, she grabbed a couple of crackers and poured the coffee into the unpaired cup she had.

She put on her coat and turned her Ipod on. Grabbing the book that was on the coffee table she left the flat not looking behind her. Listening to violin and cello concerts she walked to the tube station. Entering in the train she sat down and opened the John Keats poem book she had bought the day before. Her boyfriend (this word was still strange to her) had bought tickets to see Bright Star, the acclaimed new movie by Jane Campion. The film was about the later days of the romantic poet John Keats and his romance with Fanny Browne. She knew nothing about Keats and she was trying to learn something before that night. Actually she didn’t know anything about poetry.

The train started to move. She opened the book and started to read:

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains

My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,

Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains

One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk*

Marcie closed the book vigorously. She couldn’t believe in the beauty of the words printed on the white paper. She slowly opening the book again, afraid of what she could find inside and continued reading…

She almost missed her stop, but she managed to get off at Holborn and walked to the museum. She couldn’t wait for her break, when she would be able to read a bit more of the poetry.

As the day ensued every now and again she opened the book, read a sentence and savoured each word, each syllable; finishing the day with her soul overflowing poetry.

When Marcie met her loved one in front of the museum, she couldn’t stop talking about Keats and his poems. He couldn’t stop staring at her and admiring her virginal exposure to the world of poetry and fell in love with her all over again.

The dinner, in a small Italian restaurant in the Museum Street was seasoned by this romantic atmosphere and they were so drowned in each other that they almost missed the film.

They ran to the cinema theatre and sat in the dark holding hands while on the big screen the beautiful Abbie Cornish (in the role of Fanny Browne) was sewing. The needle going up and down, leaving the thread in the fabric was purely Keats poetry. Even before the couple met, the movie was showing that one was the thread, the other was the fabric and they were meant to be stitched together.

The movie continued in a very poetic way. Keats’s poems were the soundtrack and both Abbie Cornish and Ben Whishaw (John Keats) interpretations were purely poetry. In a very English way, slowly, using flattery, and being strangely distant their romance evolved and became true love. Without noticing and planning they lived a big love story.

Away! away! for I will fly to thee,

Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,

But on the viewless wings of Poesy,

Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:

Already with thee! tender is the night*

Marcie’s heart and mind flew away with the movie and the poems. She was there with her love but was far away in another century, in another world. Marcie couldn’t believe her life was being shown on the screen. It was another person, another name, another time, but it was her story. All love stories are the same, are universal. Every word Fanny Browne was listening and reading was entering through her ears as if it was her loved one speaking to her. Marcie looked at her boyfriend and saw he was immersed in the movie. She grabbed his hand and held it tight, diving with him into that sea of ancient words.  

She knew John Keats would die – it was announced that the movie was about his last 3 years, but she didn’t want the movie to arrive at that tragic part, wishing she could pause the movie and rewind it… but she couldn’t and the dark and cold moment arrived when Keats was in Rome. Why did he go? She would ask all night…

The movie ended and instead of a beautiful music with the final credits, The Ode to the Nightingale was recited, making this time the rest of the sensible souls in the audience to cry.

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!

No hungry generations tread thee down;

The voice I hear this passing night was heard

In ancient days by emperor and clown:

 Perhaps the self-same song that found a path

Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,

She stood in tears amid the alien corn;

The same that oft-times hath

Charm’d magic casements, opening on the foam

Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn*

She couldn’t believe a man was complaining about the movie in the foyer, saying it was too long and boring. “Insensible, dull, cold hearted, not loved, poor man.” – She thought.

They left the cinema in silence and went out into what felt like the coldest night of the year, it was below freezing. It rained and the streets were slippery. The beautiful couple kissed romantically and hugged good bye, promising each other love and fidelity for ever. He walked down the street to catch the train in Charing Cross; while she went to Piccadilly Circus to take the bus home. She found her Keats poems’ book on her bag and held it close to her heart, preparing to read it as soon as she entered the bus. Her mobile vibrated, she was about to cross the road, it was a message from her love. She smiled. “I am not a poet, I don’t know how to write beautiful words, but I love you Marcie. Kisses.”

She looked both sides of the road. No sign of cars. She stepped on the road without noticing there was a thin layer of ice. Losing her balance to the floor she went. Opening her eyes she saw a bright star in the sky. The star became brighter and brighter until she couldn’t see anything more, a terrible pain on the head, the head had hit the curb. The blood started to flow over the ice and reached the book that was opened beside her dead body. The white pages became to turn red…

           Forlorn! the very word is like a bell

           To toll me back from thee to my sole self!

           Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well

           As she is fam’d to do, deceiving elf.

           Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades

           Past the near meadows, over the still stream,

           Up the hill-side; and now ’tis buried deep

           In the next valley-glades:

           Was it a vision, or a waking dream?

           Fled is that music:–Do I wake or sleep?

 * Extracts from “Ode to a Nightingale”, John Keats

O frio vento do norte soprava em seu rosto; Marcie tremia de frio, nua e desesperada em algum lugar do Círculo Polar Ártico. Neve pra todo lado, era tanta neve que cobria seus pés e chegava aos seus joelhos. Um estrondoso barulho de escavadeiras e caminhões tornava-se mais alto e mais próximo. Magicamente ela foi teletransportada para o topo de Parliament Hill, em Hampstead Heath, ao norte de Londres. Ela corria pelo morro carregando um edredom roxo, às vezes vestindo-o como se um traje fosse, as vezes usando-o como capa. Um calor crescia de dentro dela, mantendo-a viva. O coração batia forte e a cada batida seu sangue fervendo levava calor para suas veias, aquecendo-a por completo. Um sentimento bom tomou conta dela e a imagem do seu amado surgiu. O vento começou a soprar novamente, o barulho dos carros e caminhões ficou mais forte ainda, e um irritante despertador começou a tocar.

Abrindo os olhos ela notou que ainda estava em sua cama. A janela parcialmente aberta deixava o gélido vento entrar no quarto. Rapidamente ela levantou-se e fechou a janela, o som dos carros e caminhões cessou. O grosso edredom roxo estava no chão ao lado da cama. Ela ainda tinha um belo sorriso no rosto.

Marcie arrastou-se até o banheiro aquecido e teve um longo e restaurador banho. Alcançando a única toalha que estava pendurada ela secou lentamente os braços, as pernas, os seios e as costas. Com a mesma toalha ela desembaçou o espelho e olhou a si mesma por alguns segundos terminando por enrolar-se com a toalha.

Ela sorriu e pensou no gracioso homem com quem ela estava saindo. Pela primeira vez em sua vida ela permitiu-se apaixonar-se. Ela já tinha 35 anos e nunca havia tido uma relação realmente sólida com ninguém. Ela decidiu deixar acontecer e aconteceu. Dois meses atrás este homem surgiu do nada, e no museu onde ela trabalhava, convidou-a para sair. Ela enrubreceu quando ele disse que ela era a mais bela obra de arte daquele museu, e ele era um professor de arte.

Antes the apagar a luz, ela deu uma olhada no banheiro como se não fosse o dela, uma toalha, uma escova de dentes, um perfume solitário no canto, no box do chuveiro, somente seu xampu e seu gel de banho.

Marcie sabia que seus dias de sonhos solitários, escova de dente sozinha na pia e apenas um conjunto de toalhas no cabide estavam para acabar. E ela não poderia estar mais feliz.

A cafeteira elétrica estava já pingando o café na jarra. Estava programada para uma xícara apenas, alguns minutos depois, já vestida, ela pegou um par de biscoitos e derramou o café na xícara sem par que ela tinha.

Colocou o casaco, ligou o Ipod. Pegando o livro que estava na mesinha de centro ela saiu do apartamento sem olhar para trás. Ouvindo concertos de violino e violoncelo ela andou até a estação de metrô. Entrando no trem, sentou-se e desembrulhou o livro de poesias de John Keats que havia comprado no dia anterior. Seu namorado (essa palavra ainda era estranha pra ela) havia comprado ingressos para assistirem ao filme Estrela Brilhante (Bright Star), a aclamada nova obra de Jane Campion. O filme era sobre os últimos dias do poeta romântico John Keats e seu romance com Fanny Bowne. Ela não conhecia nada de Keats e estava tentando aprender algo antes do filme. Na verdade ela não sabia nada sobre poesia.

O trem começou a mover-se. Ela abriu o livro e começou a ler:

Meu peito dói; um sono insano sobre mim

Pesa, como se eu me tivesse intoxicado

De ópio ou veneno que eu sorvesse até o fim,

Há um só minuto, e após no Letes me abismado*

Marcie fechou o livro como quem se assustara. Ela não podia acreditar na beleza das palavras impressas nas páginas brancas do papel. Vagarosamente abriu novamente o livro com medo do que pudesse encontrar.

Ela quase perdeu sua estação, mas conseguiu sair do metrô em Holborn e andou até o museu. Ela não podia esperar pelo seu intervalo, quando poderia ler um pouco mais dos poemas.

O dia passou e a todo momento ela abria o livro e lia uma frase, saboreando cada palavra, cada sílaba. Terminou o dia com sua alma transbordando poesia.

Marcie encontrou seu amado em frente ao museu, ela não parava de falar sobre Keats e sua poesia, ele não podia parar de fitá-la e adimirar a viagem virginal que ela fazia ao mundo da poesia. Mais uma vez se apaixonou por ela.

O jantar em uma pequena cantina italiana, na Museum Street foi temperado por esta atmosfera romântica e eles estavam tão imersos em si mesmos que quase perderam o horário do filme.

Correram até o cinema, entraram na sala escura e sentaram em um canto. Logo na tela apareceu a bela Abbie Cornish (no papel de Fanny Browne) costurando. A agulha passeando pra cima e pra baixo, deixava um traço no linho, e aquilo era pura poesia de Keats. Mesmo antes de encontrarem-se, o filme já mostrava que um era a linha e o outro o linho, e que haviam sido feitos para serem bordados juntos.

O filme continuou de uma forma muito poética. Os poemas de Keat eram a trilha sonora e tanto a interpretação de Abbie Cornish quanto a de Ben Whishaw (John Keats) eram pura poesia. De uma maneira muito inglesa, vagarosa, charmosa e distante, o romance evoluiu e tornou-se amor verdadeiro. Sem notarem e sem planejarem viveram uma história de amor.

Eu sigo em breve a tua via,

Não em carro de Baco e guarda de leopardos,

Antes, nas asas invisíveis da Poesia,

Vencendo a hesitação da mente e os seus retardos;

Já estou contigo! suave é a noite Linda*

O coração e a mente de Marcie voou junto com o filme e com os poemas. Ela estava lá com seu amado, mas estava também longe, em outro século, em outro mundo. Marcie custava a acreditar que a história de sua vida estava na tela, talvez  com outro nome, em outra época, em situações diferentes, mas era sua história, afinal toda história de amor é a mesma. É universal. Cada palavra que Fanny Browne escutava ou lia era como se o amado de Marcie quem falava. Marcie olhou para seu namorado no cinema, segurou fortemente sua mão e juntos mergulharam naquele mar de palavras antigas.

Ela sabia qeu John Keats morreria – foi anunciado que o filme era sobre os últimos 3 anos de vida do poeta, mas ela não queria que o filme chegasse naquele trágico momento, se ao menos ela pudesse parar a fita… Mas ela nao o pode fazer e o trágico episódio chegou. Keats morreu em Roma, sozinho. Por que ele foi para lá? Ela se perguntaria a noite toda…

Ao final do filme, ao invés de uma bela música junto aos créditos, a Ode ao Rouxinol (Ode to a Nightngale) foi recitada, fazendo com que desta vez, as outras almas sensíveis no cinema derramassem suas lágrimas.

Tu não nasceste para a morte, ave imortal!

Não te pisaram pés de ávidas gerações;

A voz que ouço cantar neste momento é igual

À que outrora encantou príncipes e aldeões:

Talvez a mesma voz com que foi consolado

O coração de Rute, quando, em meio ao pranto,

Ela colhia em terra alheia o alheio trigo;

Quem sabe o mesmo canto

Que abriu janelas encantandas ao perigo

Dos mares maus, em longes solos, desolado*

Ela mal pode acreditar quando ouviu um homem reclamando do filme no foyer do cinema. Ele dizia que o filme era muito longo e cansativo. “Insensível, grosso, frio, mal amado, pobre coitado.” – Pensou ela.

Saíram do cinema em silêncio, encontram lá fora a mais fria das noites, estava abaixo de zero. Havia chovido e as ruas estavam escorregadias. O belo casal se beijou apaixonadamente e após um longo abraço despediram-se com juras de amor eterno. Ele desceu rua, rumo à Charing Cross onde pegaria o metrô, ela subiu para Piccadilly Circus, onde pegaria o ônibus. Tirando seu livro de poesia da bolsa, segurou-o perto do coração, para ler assim que entrasse no ônibus. O celular vibrou, ela estava prestes a atravessar a rua, era uma mensagem do seu amado. Ela sorriu. “Eu não sou um poeta, não sei usar palavras bonitas, mas eu te amo Marcie. Beijos”.

Ainda sorrindo ela olhou para os dois lados da rua, nenhum sinal de carros. Ela pisou na rua sem notar a fina camada de gelo que havia. Perdeu o equilíbrio e ao chão ela foi jogada. Abrindo os olhos ela viu uma estrela brilhante, e o brilho ficava cada vez mais intenso. Sua cabeça doia muito. A cabeça havia atingido o meio-fio, o sangue começava a verter, escorrendo por sobre o frio gelo, chegou até o livro que estava aberto ao lado do corpo. As páginas foram aos poucos cobrindo-se de vermelho.

Desolado! a palavra soa como um dobre,

Tangendo-me de ti de volta à solidão!

Adeus! A fantasia é véu que não encobre

Tanto como se diz, duende da ilusão.

Adeus! Adeus! Teu salmo agora tristemente

Vai-se perder no campo, e além, no rio silente,

Nas faldas da montanha, até ser sepultado

Sob o vale deserto:

Foi só uma visão ou um sonho acordado?

A música se foi – durmo ou estou desperto?*

* Trechos em itálico extraídos de Ode a um Rouxinol (“Ode to a Nightingale”), John Keats, tradução Augusto de Campos, Vialinguagem. São Paulo: Companhia das Letras 1987

UK/Australia/France

Director: Jane Campion

119 min

Although it played to good reviews at Cannes, I have to admit to being content to giving ‘Bright Star’ a wide berth. I’ve always had a pretty agnostic approach to a certain kind of “quality” period drama. I was able to attend a preview screening of ‘Bright Star’ and it’s an attitude that I’m rather ashamed by now. My pre-film expectations might have been low, but I left feeling exhilarated and incredibly impressed. Working from the biography of Keats by Poet Laureate Andrew Motion, Campion’s film depicts the three year love affair between the Romantic poet and Fanny Brawne. What helps is that both lead actors are superb. Ben Whishaw combines sensitivity, compassion and good humour in his portrayal of Keats, whilst the Australian actress Abbie Cornish reveals Fanny to be an intelligent, progressive, ‘modern’ and independent young woman. Together, they create a love affair that is refreshing and original. The concern about focusing solely on this love affair is that it could easily degenerate into a simpering, mawkish episode but Campion ensures this isn’t the case. The origins are platonic; whilst Fanny admires his poetry, she doesn’t fall head over heels for it, and even tells Keats so. This is a relationship that slowly develops, frustrated by the Victorian moral code – Keats was eternally penniless and thus could never propose. Yet once they fall in love and declare so, Campion depicts the relationship partially through Keats’ own poetry. It’s easy to think that the romantic poetry that Keats worked on was because of the dizzying joy of his love for Fanny; never more so than in the sonnet that provides the film with its title. Never before has poetry been transferred so effortlessly to the screen.

As we know, there’s an inevitable tragic ending for this relationship, but it’s never overplayed or dwelled upon. Keats’ death is revealed only through a letter than his friend, Brown, gives to Fanny. Campion uses a short sequence of his coffin being carried, but otherwise it’s never overexaggerated from dramatic effect. That’s because Campion knows it’s the happiness the pair shared throughout their brief affair that’s the focus of her film, not the tragic illness that separated them. Campion retains a stunning eye for detail and for a brilliant shot, starting with the film’s opening sequence of intense close ups of Fanny sewing, but never more evident than in the stunning moment when Fanny is captured in a field of bluebells, reading Keats poetry, and falling in love with both the man and his writing. This is a film where nature’s beauty and love overshadows the literary writers block that Keats and Brown endure, though Keats seems only inspired towards greatness upon discovering his feelings for Fanny. In many ways, ‘Bright Star’ embodies the elements of the run-of-the-mill period drama; impeccable acting, sharp writing, high production/costume values, and this is indeed true, but there’s a genuine warmth at work. It never feels studied or aiming to be something it’s not. It’s a dizzying, delirious examination of love and certainly one of the finest films of the year.

Jane Campion says she made a movie about John Keats because she “was terrified of poetry”. A tricky poem was like a spider in a high corner of her brain; making meaning hard to reach; staining her enjoyment. But Keats proved a good teacher. As he says in the movie: “A poem needs understanding through the senses. The point of diving in a lake is not immediately to swim to the shore; it’s to be in the lake, to luxuriate in the sensation of water. You do not work the lake out. It is an experience beyond thought. Poetry soothes and emboldens the soul to accept mystery.” Bright Star is about a love of verse.

An impoverished Keats is a lodger at the Brawne household in 1818. His poetry has not sold well. He shares a bachelor parlour with his friend Charles Brown and spends his days, like most writers, staring at a blank page the way a sniper watches an open window. Then one day his landlady’s daughter takes an interest in his poems. Her name is Fanny Brawne and she dresses like a rare orchid. She speaks to Keats with a directness he finds intriguing. She wants to understand his work. Since Keats lacks funds, she agrees to pay him to be her poetry tutor. She will become Keats’s muse, and the “Bright Star” of his most rapturous sonnet.

“Bright star, would I were as steadfast as thou art/ Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night…No – yet still steadfast, still unchangeable/ Pillowed upon my fair love’s ripening breast…” In those lines – that mixture of headiness and eroticism – Jane Campion finds her movie. The love between John Keats and Fanny Brawne is chaste, unyielding and tragic. Like Keats’s poem, it conjures a feeling like taking your last breath; that special awareness that comes with sensing mortality. There is no sex in the movie, but the physical connection between the two leads is palpable. Their every kiss is like a resuscitation. Their every touch pierces skin.

Ben Whishaw plays Keats as a bookish man with a roaring heart. There’s an intensity about him, but nothing threatening. He’s a man who could look right through you if he were reading. But he’s also present – the way people are when they have experienced death at a young age. He isn’t sentimental, or mawkish. Rather, he’s someone who has a passion in life, and who is loved because of that passion. When Jane Campion films Whishaw sitting, musing, by a tree, another actor might look fey or ridiculous. Whishaw looks real, as if he really were receiving inspiration. Even his consumptive coughing fits avoid the ominous-cough cliché.

Abbie Cornish, faced with the more difficult task of embodying a muse, goes the practical route. Fanny Brawne isn’t an inscrutable beauty, or a tantalising enigma, she’s a young woman who understands John Keats. Cornish smiles too knowingly for a waif; she smiles like a card sharp. Again, there’s no trace of sentimentality. Her feelings for Keats strike her like a hammer striking an anvil. When he dies, her tears are searing. Cornish looks at Whishaw throughout as if, when she was around him, she could see the blood moving through his body. When he’s sick, it’s as if she can see the sickness. The final meeting between the two, when Fanny begs John to take her with him to Italy, is heart-breaking because they both know it’s their final meeting. It’s mutual awareness that makes them kin.

A thing of beauty is a joy forever/ Its loveliness increases, it will never/ Pass into nothingness… What Bight Star captures is the ecstasy of love: the part that’s like a great poem. There are easier things in life than love and poetry – accepting mystery is hard – but the rewards are ample. Keats’s metaphor of “diving in a lake” is apt because it’s dangerous. If you refuse to swim for shore, you could drown. But that’s only if you give up. What Jane Campion celebrates in Bright Star is the urge to grasp intangibles: whether you’re struck by a face or a verse, if you pursue that impulse, you discover life.

Bright Star is Jane Campion and Andrew Motion’s story of Fanny Brawne and her love for Keats. Like his poetry, it prizes the senses – experience before concept: in colour – rich coordinations of costume and foliage in purples, pinks, blues and earthier tones; in texture – softness of velvet or cotton on treetop brush and hardwood skirting; in sound – vocal and natural harmonies. Love is regarded in its tactile qualities – what more can art aspire to articulate? Each movement – first encounter, discovery, pursuit, withdrawal, physical contact, separation, correspondence, loss, rediscovery, isolation, consummation, twilight, conclusion – is treated briskly with plot, yet spun into luxurious tapestry of emotion and affect.

Her advances are as ambivalent, coy or beguiling, as the jokes of her nemesis, Charles Brown. They are measured in expressions and silence. Keats’ defeated desire hides beneath furrowed brow and protean enthusiasm. Campion summons susurrant notes at each ecstatic touch, when hands first meet, when lips embrace and when hands burrow through hair. Keats worries he may catch alight. Abbie Cornish grasps and claws at the void as Brawne receives nothing from her distant love. Murmurs speak to her joy at a beautiful letter, as do kisses for Toots. The world changes colour and season with her mood, which in turn stems from these gestures. She kneels, her hands roam across the fabrics of his robes as he silently pleads forgiveness. As he summons the verse of bright star, his head rests on her breast, rising and falling, her kiss on the crown of his head. Trapped beyond reach, his sickbed mere inches through the wall, she rests a cheek against cold boards.

It becomes clear that this is a love of incomparable depth – one of those rare loves to render others abstract and pragmatic. That clarity has little to do with story – perhaps a contentious one from Motion – but everything to do with feeling. Oddly, we do not immediately feel much of what goes on between Whishaw and Cornish. It is kept for the characters – shown to us in confidence, but with intimacy. One’s own feelings can be summoned up by this vision of love, but primarily on reflection – its representational route is indirect and unaffecting. I suppose it speaks volumes for Campion that she is reluctant to pluck heartstrings. As it is, Bright Star remains a mesmerizing observation. Once you start to reflect on it, the memory begins to puncture, to open up those wounds: thence the emotion, the resounding authenticity of its vision, the power of this great film.

Bright Star, Dir. & Writ. Jane Campion, Star. Abbie Cornish, Ben Wishaw & Paul Schneider, Jan Chapman Pictures, Australia/UK, 2009

One of the perks to volunteering is all the free tickets we seem to be getting! And I was VERY lucky to be offered two free tickets to the VIP LIFF opening night film of Bright Star.  I’ve been a John Keats fan since studying him for A Level several (eeeek!) years ago, and have been looking forward to seeing this film for ages. I was going to get tickets anyway,  so this was all a bonus! I’m also a big fan of Abbie Cornish ever since seeing Somersault earlier this year and I hope the release of this film gets her a bit more promo and recognition.

And the film is exactly like a John Keats poem – beautiful, romantic, affecting and manages to be both magical and otherworldly without appearing unreal. And I was quite choked up for a while after it finished, too!

The relationship between Fanny and John is so well developed and you’re sucked into a moving and inspirational love story before you know it. Fanny is completely different at the start of the film – independent, strong willed, sarcastic and cynical, and to watch her change as she begins to have feelings for another person, it is genuine and delicate, and makes everything inside you soar. This film is perfect for showing just how enhancing and transformative love can be. Fanny almost becomes a female embodiment of Keats herself – love becomes a sickness and a drug (hemlock! hemlock!). The beauty of Jane Campion’s directing is that everything is so slight and ethereal you are never left thinking that these two people are dangerous for one another, or that their relationship is fake or excessive. The ending, even though you know it’s coming, is like having your heart squeezed like a sponge. It is truly upsetting and agonising and will stay with you for long after.

The two leads are flawless. I love Abbie Cornish, and with Fanny she has created a female protagonist who is the stronger of the couple – she is smart, loving and brave and I really, really hope she gets a lot of good reviews from this, and is recognised for expertly playing such tormented female roles (such as she does in Somersault). This role is also the making of Ben Whishaw as well – I haven’t seen Criminal Justice which he was readily applauded for, but here he is just wonderful as John Keats – fragile, innocent, wistful – just adorable! A confused but very brilliant man.

The rest of the cast are delightful too – particularly Fanny’s siblings (oh hello little boy from Love Actually, yes I did know that face!) and the way they say very little, yet their devotion to their sister and their love for John, and Fanny and John, is more than evident.  There’s a darling little scene where Fanny and John are following Toots back to the house and everytime she turns around they freeze frame.

Another thing I loved – other than giggling stupidly whenever long quotes of Eve of St Agnes or Nightingale come up! – was the use of the countryside and nature in the film – particularly the butterflies in the bedroom, and where they share their first kiss in the wildflowers. It’s all so perfectly realised and really adds to the overall tone and feel of the film which is understated, natural and oh so very British.

It’s a gorgeous, tender, sensuous film and I urge anyone who has loved, is in love, or wants to experience the pure unadultered thing to treat yourselves to this little wonder.

If you want to watch a big, sweeping, 1800’s English romance, perhaps you should curl up with that pint of ice cream and watch “Sense & Sensibility” in bed again because “Bright Star” doesn’t fit the bill.  Sure, you have gorgeous countryside and fabulous cinematography, but the romance between poet John Keats (Ben Whishaw) and Fanny Brawne (Abbie Cornish) is much more muted than what one would expect.  In fact, writer/director Jane Campion has made a film that portrays more of their heartache than their amorous time together.  But the beauty of the movie comes from just that, the budding passion of their love that cannot bloom fully because of societal constraints and unfortunate illness.  And according to Keats, “A thing of beauty is a joy forever.”

For Keats, Brawne is literally the girl next door, but Campion makes sure that we do not mistake her for the stereotype that the term now bears.  We usually associate the girl next door with being innocent and straightforward, just the kind of girl to marry.  However, Keats thinks her a “stylish minx” (for those who don’t spreak pre-Victorian English, this he thinks she is quite the flirt).  And Brawne’s mother couldn’t be more happy with his disinterest in her daughter because he doesn’t make enough money writing poems.  Brawne also fears falling in love with Keats, but for a different reason; she doesn’t want him to have to give up what he loves to support her desire to design clothes.  Unlike most movie romances, their relationship doesn’t grow out of loathing, but rather out of amiability and friendship.  It is the disease of Keats’ brother and the sympathy that Brawne shows that brings them closer.  He then begins to see her almost as a muse, inspiring his best work yet.  Despite this, his friend and roommate Brown (Paul Schneider of “Parks & Recreation” in a performance that deserves to be remembered) resents her presence, perhaps as Campion suggest for his own selfish reasons.  The evidence is in the text that all the obstacles they faced only drew them closer to each other; Keats even wrote “I have the feeling as if I were dissolving.”  In an ironic twist, that which brought them together is the only thing that could tear them apart.

Campion wisely focuses her movie on Brawne, the character she seems to understand the most.  Keats proves to be quite an enigma, but Brawne proves to be quite a conundrum herself.  Sometimes her emotional swings, however, were quite nebulous.  Cornish plays them quite well, but I think the flaw comes from Campion’s script.  It wasn’t the dialogue that made them unclear; in fact, I caught witty, nuanced lines that no one in my theater noticed.  I don’t think it was the naivete of being a man that made her motives hazy because even my mother had to deliberate carefully on them.

Surprisingly, “Bright Star” is at its best when it steps away from the doomed romance and delves into the world of poetry.  Brawne asks Keats for poetry lessons, and rather than teach her to write it, he teaches her to appreciate it.  The sequences where he elaborates on why he writes are nothing short of sublime.  Keats tells her (and I quote roughly), “You don’t jump into an ocean to swim right back to shore.  You want to absorb the feeling of the water, feel the waves lapping.”  In a sense, the same could be said for Campion’s movie.  You dive into “Bright Star” not to see a movie but to immerse yourself in its beauty.  If this is your aim in watching the movie, the unhurried pace won’t be a bother, and it might even add to the experience as you find yourself encompassed by its grandeur.  B /

A movie about a Romantic poet may not be for everyone, but Jane Campion’s “Bright Star” is a beauty.  It tells the story of the English poet John Keats (Ben Whishaw) and the love of his short life, Fanny Brawne (Abbie Cornish).  Some in the audience may roll their eyes when Keats – pale, skinny and sickly – gets dreamy by staring at flowers and trees and rocks. But what’s on the screen is beautiful, especially a room full of butterflies, and you just may find yourself getting swept away in a 19th century romance where sex never occurs.  The film will be so good to some that they’ll want to stay in their seat to hear a poem, “La Belle Dame Sans Merci,” read aloud as the credits roll.

The tragic but intensely passionate love affair between Romantic poet John Keats (Ben Whishaw) and the radiant Fanny Brawne (Abbie Cornish) is detailed in this romantic period drama from critically acclaimed writer/director Jane Campion.

Poetry in the key of Time.

Normally, I am not exactly what you would call a fan of Jane Campion’s films.

But a few weeks ago, I went to the theater and gave her latest film, Bright Star, a chance. Mostly because Kenneth Turan, the Los Angeles Times’ resident film critic, gave it a simply glowing review … and Turan is rather known for not giving glowing reviews.

I went in with my nose firmly placed in the air, ready to massacre what I was certain would be a self-important, purposefully ‘arty’ picture. And, suddenly, about an hour into it, I realized that I was crying … for no apparent reason at all. It was simply a matter of an unexpected, rushing wave of emotion sweeping over me, and I was caught in its riptide, helpless to resist. The same sort of feeling one gets when reading a challenging poem: the initial distrust, and then, bang, the thrust of emotion that leaves you thoroughly winded … and utterly in love. Rather like a Keats poem, to be honest.

Which is why Bright Star, the delicately beautiful film about the famous love affair between the young John Keats and Fanny Brawne starring the exquisite Abbie Cornish and Ben Whishaw, is so powerfully sensitive and entirely effective. It feels like a poem … not like someone pushing poetry down your throat which, I’m sure you’ll agree, makes all the difference in the world.

Rapturous in its realism, Bright Star feels and breathes and seethes with life and love and beauty. The early 19th century has never been so extraordinarily organic. Even though just a spectator in 2-D, the film pops with color, and vibrancy—we feel the flush of wind on Fanny’s fabric, the fragility of Keat’s coat collar, the quiet sunlight over a field of lavender, the warm breath of a tentative kiss… it is something rarely achieved on screen with such mastery, and my previous issues with Ms. Campions’ pretension have been duly sated.

The film itself is not likely to make a dent in the coming awards season, such is the lot of films of its beauty and weight, but if there’s one thing sure to seduce Academy voters it must surely be the exquisitely artful use of costume. The fabric of Miss Fanny Brawne’s clothing is as much a part of the film’s tapestry as Fanny herself … below are a few of what I consider to be the highlights ….

Fanny fast at work on a new design ...

...and the beautiful result.

And another of Fanny's fine bespoke creations.

The Two Lovers.

Cartelera El perfume

Basada en un libro que revolucionó tanto como su versión cinematográfica…

El Perfume: Historia de un Asesino

Un niño nace entre la mitad del hedor de los restos de pescado del mercado donde su madre trabaja. Abandonado en la basura, el bebé comienza a llorar y es así encontrado por las autoridades. La madre es condenada a la horca, mientras que el huérfano es llevado a un orfanato. Allí crece en un entorno inhóspito y cruel. Es despreciado por todos por ser distinto.

Jean Baptiste Grenouille posee un don, posee un olfato excepcional. A los veinte años, después de trabajar un tiempo en una curtiduría, comienza un nuevo empleo como ayudante del perfumero Bandini, quien le enseña a destilar esencias. Con su don, Grenouille inventa fórmulas de perfumes que enriquecen al perfumero y, en agradecimiento, Bandini escribe una carta de recomendación para que el joven pueda partir a Grasse, la capital mundial del perfume, y expandir allí sus horizontes.

Allí descubre que su mayor deseo es realizable. Su objetivo es conseguir el perfume perfecto, cuyo ingrediente principal debe ser la esencia de jóvenes muchachas. El único obstáculo es que para obtenerlo debe matar y mutilar a sus víctimas femeninas. Con trece esencias logra componer entonces un perfume que provoca lujuria inmediata a todo aquel que lo huele. Una pasión y desesperación incontrolable e irracional, cuyas consecuencias significaran el brutal y violento final de Jean Batiste. 

El protagonista y su primera víctima

Datos adicionales:
Película alemana basada en la novela Das Parfum de Patrick Süskind 

• Dirección: Tom Tykwer
• Género: Drama, thriller
• Reparto: Ben Whishaw, Rachel Hurd-Wood, Alan Rickman, Dustin Hoffman
• Países: Alemania, Francia y España
• Año: 2006

Por más información visita la Página Oficial de la película. Recomendamos también leer el libro previemente!

Un film del 2009, regia di Jane Campion, con Ben Whishaw / Abbie Cornish / Thomas Sangster / Paul Schneider. Prodotto da 01 Distribution (120min)

Drammatico / Romantico

Il poeta John Keats vive una tormentata storia d’amore con la bella Fanny Brawne, un rapporto destinato a durare tre anni, fino alla prematura scomparsa di Keats all’età di venticinque anni.

Why don't you whine about it some more?

Period romances have an inherent edge in the quest to be compelling, I think.  Just seems it is a lot easier to find obstacles to love in the class and gender boundaries of the 19th century than today.  Girl has money, guy doesn’t, girl’s family won’t let them marry.  See, just takes five seconds to set up the story.

Of course, that simplicity is a double-edged sword.  While it can take just a scene to set up a plausible and engaging romantic entanglement, that leaves the whole rest of the movie to figure out ways to make that romance interesting.  Bright Star, unfortunately, isn’t up to the task.

Even if you don’t know anything about John Keats’s life, the film isn’t really particularly surprising.  Abbie Cornish plays Fanny Brawne, a somewhat educated young woman of some means who is a bit proud of her sewing career.  As soon as Keats (Ben Whishaw), a young poet of little renown and even less money enters her life, it is clear (by all the usual ways) they’ll be an item.  The problem is that the film never really advances much beyond that stage.

The movie in a nutshell: Fanny is whiny and Keats is wimpy.  Other people claim the film has subtle, delicate layers.  But frankly, I’m didn’t see that at all.  There isn’t really much to their story, or much reason to get invested in the characters.  Their courtship was vague and detached.  I never saw a moment where Fanny falls in love or even a reason why she does.  And Keats seems to mostly ignore her.  There is very little romantic bickering.  And the scene where they do get together feels accidental.  It is kinda sorta a forbidden romance, but only in the sense that Fanny and Keats exert the least possible effort to try to get together.  I half expected any of the secondary character to slap either Keats or Fanny and excoriate them for their inaction.  Basically, in my mind, the story held very little interest as a romance, and there wasn’t really anything else there besides the romance.

Other than the comic relief, which was far and away the best part of the film.  There were several legitimately funny moments in the film, and increasingly they became focal points.  Certainly a large part of that is due to Paul Schneider, but I’d also spread the love around to the rest of the cast and writer/director Jane Campion.  Schneider plays the portly Charles Armitage Brown who has what kids these days call a bromance going with Keats.  A fellow poet, Brown is wholly devoted to his and Keats’ work, well, except for partaking in some sensual pleasures, and is (rightly, in my mind) skeptical of Fanny.  Obnoxious and overbearing, Brown is clearly the highlight of the film.

Bright Star has been bandied about in talks of all the major Oscar categories, save supporting actress.  Frankly, I think it’d be a mistake for the film to receive any nominations.  I’ve covered why I think the film is boring and how I was put off by Abbie Cornish and Ben Whishaw.  I don’t like to speak about direction, but I will say that I found the cuts between scenes to be highly distracting, so I guess I have to blame Campion for that.  I wouldn’t really be upset if Schneider picked up a supporting actor not.  He did a lot with a relatively slight role; had he been given a more substantial character, I’d be much more confident in handing him a nomination.

Eight Stars out of Ten Stars (********/**********)

Jane Campion is a director I have a hell of a lot of time for. Holy Smoke!, a rather taut and polarising Kate Winslet vehicle totally captivated me as a sullen teenager, and thrust some rather adult and introspective themes into my head that I had hitherto not experienced. And I absolutely adored her for it. I remember shedding a solitary tear as the film came to its climax, so overcome was I by the emotions it had stirred up within me. And let me tell you, it was not a film designed in any way to be weepy.

Now I come, some ten years later, to a Campion film that most certainly is filled with those intentions. Bright Star takes the director back to the literary period fare of her 90s work The Portrait of a Lady and The Piano; both fine films. Here Campion is more restrained, less explicit, and the film throbs with emotional and intellectual intensity, rather than the sexual energy of her earlier work. Abbie Cornish (previously excellent in little-seen Australian film Somersault) and Ben Whishaw play Fanny Brawne and John Keats; a young couple beset by a passionate love and difficult circumstances, united by Keats’ romantic-era poetry.

This film is beautiful. The score, costumes and lensing are exquisite, so much so that sometimes it soars, and sweeps you away. There were moments were I just thought “this is it, this is just absolutely perfect”. However, these moments do not occur throughout. They rely on the performances, pacing and dialogue being just as consistent as the technical achievements; which sadly I didn’t think was always the case. Parts of the film were just that tiny bit flat, where slight imperfections in the performances and tone distract. For me this somewhat dampened the emotional payoff of the tragic conclusion. It’s a shame, because Bright Star really is a stone’s throw from masterpiece territory at some points.

Despite my few reservations, this is well worth anyone’s time. A quiet, unassuming film that I have no doubt I will come to love.

As most of you should know Ben Whishaw is probably one of the most talented actors to come out of Britain recently, but “Bright Star” isn’t the only thing getting him attention recently…. Come inside for a look at the play he’ll be starring in in NYC that’s already won an award and a feature on him in NYT.

Alexi Kaye Campbell’s The Pride Wins Whiting Award

Alexi Kaye Campbell’s play, The Pride, is the recipient of the Whiting Award, a national playwriting prize in the U.K., according to a report in Variety.

The play — which examines changing attitudes toward sexuality and concerns a complex love triangle — jumps from 1958 to the present. It premiered at the Royal Court Theatre in November, and MCC will present the New York premiere of The Pride beginning in January at the Lucille Lortel Theatre, in a production starring Hugh Dancy, Andrea Riseborough, Ben Whishaw, and a fourth actor not yet announced. Joe Mantello will direct.

Special commendations were also awarded to Simon Stephens for Pornography and Steve Waters for The Contingency Plan.

If possible I would totally go see this play–him and Hugh Dancy are so talented, and theater is where he got discovered by playing Hamlet.  This will be good.

It ought to come like leaves to a tree, or it better not come at all.

– John Keats

Bright Star has been getting considerable Oscar buzz. It is to be expected. It’s a gorgeous, beautifully shot piece. Gorgeous costumes. I am familiar with the work of Jane Campion with her Oscar-winning picture, The Piano. I thought that was a marvelous film. This movie on the other hand is an empty vessel put up on screen.

This movie retells the final three years of John Keats’ life. Keats played by Ben Whinshaw is a struggling poet that doesn’t have a cent to his name. He rooms with his best friend, Charles Armitage Brown (Paul Schneider). They share the summer rental with another family, the Brawnes.

The eldest daughter, Fanny (Abbie Cornish) is a free-spirited woman that loves to dress in her own creations. She is not limited to the conventions of 19th century Victorian society. Fanny is taken by the words of Keats even though the rest of the world wouldn’t know until after his death.

John and Fanny in love with each other, but their different status threaten to tear them apart. The only times they could be with each other is frolicking in the meadows, their correspondence when John gets sick or their chaste kissing sessions in private.

As I stated earlier, this is a beatufiul film. I wouldn’t expect less in a Campion film, but something about the romance between these star-crossed lovers rang false. There was no longing for each other, no heartache. Some scenes were supposed to convey that, but it was forced.

It felt empty. I didn’t care about the lovers. Do they cossumate their union? Will they get married?

This was supposed to be a tragic romance. The only tears that were coming out of my eyes were those from boredom. I wondered when is Keats going to die. (It’s not a spoiler. It’s history.) I felt the same way like in Titanic. That says a lot. Also, I believe that Paul Schneider was horribly miscast on the Scot Brown. Every time, he was on screen I wanted to jump into the screen and punch him in his padded gut.

Judgment: A disappointing, hollow romance that should have been forgotten in the course of history.

Rating: **

Bright Star from the New York Times

The swooning, romantic period drama, Bright Star, chronicles the three-year romance between revered Romantic poet John Keats and young Fanny Brawne, cut short due to Keats’s death at the age of 25. The ably gifted director and writer, Jane Campion (The Piano), has crafted her most moving film to date. Her acute eye for detail of her characters’ surroundings and her ability to capture the smallest of gestures and glances, culminate to add a tangible quality to a genre commonly associated with tentativeness.

Campion was inspired to tell their story upon coming across Keats’s love letters to Brawne, and his short poem, Bright Star, which many scholars believe is based on their chaste love affair. For Campion, the film marks a departure from the underrated, sexually charged thriller, In the Cut, and a return to the period genre that garnered the New Zealand born director a large following. What Campion has always displayed – whatever the period – is an intense fascination with her lead heroines and an ability to make them thrillingly alive. She conveys this through a passionately intimate approach, chronicling emotional travails without reserve. Bright Star is no exception.

Brawne (the exceptional Abbie Cornish) is Bright Star’s beating heart. A young steadfast spirit, she becomes acquainted with the lithesome Keats (Ben Whishaw) and outspoken poet, Charles Browne, when the two rent out rooms in the Brawne family household. Through Cornish’s deftly registered glances, it is clear Brawne is immediately drawn to Keats, though she can’t place why. In a sequence, sensitively handled by Campion, Brawne asks her sister to read out one of his poems. A few words in, Brawne snatches the book away and reads aloud, enamored with the sound of the text. Though no scholar of poetry – but rather fashion – Brawne emotionally finds a deep connection to Keats’s flow of language.

The surface complexities associated with poetry present an enigma to Brawne, as they do to many people, no matter how well educated. In a moving effort to further identify with Keats, she begins a series of private tutorials with him. The two embark on a tentative romance, due to Keats’ dire money prospects and familial history of tuberculosis. While Keats tries (unsuccessfully) to keep his feelings at bay, Brawne falls hopelessly enamored.

Campion and Cornish work vividly together in capturing that wondrous and terrifying sensation. Cornish imbues Brawne with a brash realism that strikes as inherently modern in an otherwise period setting. It works beautifully. Every fiber of Brawne’s being is rendered overtaken by the passion she carries for Keats. Even in quiet scenes between the two lovers, Cornish’s wildly evocative eyes and quivering demeanor exhibit her uncontrollable attraction.

Bright Star is surely Campion’s most implicitly romantic and optimistic film to date. Despite the tragic outcome, the film revels in the fiery power of first love with unabashed glee. Campion seems to be settling into a more pensive, hopeful state with this tale. Like Bright Star, her films have strived to explore the complexities inherent in human relationships. But the shock aspect inherent in her past work – the finger amputation in The Piano, the explicit sex in In the Cut – never threatens to come to the surface in Bright Star.

Perhaps Keats Romantic verse got the best of her. Or maybe with age, Campion is settling into a more meditative state of mind. Whatever the case, Bright Star is Campion’s most deeply affecting film to date and a testament to her astute approach as an auteur.

Viewed: October 13, 2009

Friends, I apologize for having been absent so long! This is the sacrifice of student-hood. No money for movie tickets! On that note, however, and to my surprise, Cineplex theaters have this new thing called “Cheap Tuesdays” where you buy your ticket at 15% off, and you get a free medium popcorn and medium drink! Just my luck, because I refuse to see films without popcorn and a diet coke. Strange habit, I know. So I was excited about that — but only for about 2 minutes, until I realized that I had forgotten my notebook AGAIN. Bollocks! Don’t worry, don’t worry I came prepared. I brought loose leaf paper, in case this had ever happened (seeing as it has occurred more than once already!) No cell-phone-lights this time! Having gotten comfortable in the back row of the theater, with popcorn, diet coke and a paper and pen, I began…

This film’s Oscar buzz originated in the Cannes film festival this past summer, where the film debuted. And, to my disappointment as you will find, it was only about the lead role: Abbie Cornish as Fanny Brawne, John Keats’ lover. I think, knowing this, I expected a great deal from her. In the start of the film, she was horrible. Horrible. I was seriously considering whether or not she was worthy of all the buzz. Frowning already within the first few minutes of the film is not a great way to start, considering it was being viewed for this Oscar Project! And so, to be fair, I paused and considered the reasons why she sucked (pardon me)…

The script was a little … tight. The speeches that some of these characters had to give were like listening to a dictionary being read. Very detailed, and very official — and I don’t think people really spoke like that back then, that’s for sure. But, again, this was only an issue in the beginning of the film. As the film progressed, the screenplay loosened up, and you fell in love with the characters. This is when Abbie Cornish really shined. It shows you that it is possible that a messy script can hinder performance. This script wasn’t terrible, it was just slow. Eloquent, yes, but slow. Oscar worthy? I’m not sure, actually. Most of the screenplay was simply reiterating poetry written by Keats, and little else. If not poetry, then his letters. So, perhaps the arrangement could be nominated, but it’s hard to say.

After about 45 minutes into this film, Abbie Cornish ripped this role apart. Oh my goodness. When we meet John Keats’ dying brother for the first time, her face makes you hold your breath until the scene is over. She doesn’t say a word, but you can still feel some sort of fear for what’s about to happen. Just by her face. Another moment of glory? When she realizes that Keats is moving to Italy, she cries. And not the normal crying you see in films… no, no. This is the realistic UGLY cry. Where her mouth hangs open and spit bubbles in the corner of her lips. The same cry we all cry at one point or another. Oh yes. This was the most realistic cry I have ever seen (aside from Viola Davis in “Doubt” … no one can ever beat that cry. She got nominated for that cry.) These moments proved her worthy of the Oscar buzz she was recieving. You also have to realize — Abbie Cornish is that American girlfriend from “Stop Loss.” THAT is her claim-to-fame. And there, she wasn’t fantastic. Needless to say, she has stepped it up for this film — major. She’s completely out of her comfort zone. Let’s take a look back… Who’s another actress we’ve seen out of their comfort zone? Anne Hathaway. The lovely lady went from “The Princess Diaries” to “Rachel Getting Married.” INSANE transition. It gave her a well-earned and well-deserved Oscar nom. No, she didn’t win. But you can certainly draw parallels between these two women’s careers. Well done, Abbie!

Now, here is where my disappointment lies: The Oscar buzz was only about Abbie Cornish. It completely overlooked Ben Whishaw, our wonderful John Keats. Despite the slow and dreary beginning, he caught my attention. I love him. Love him. I’ve studied John Keats in my earlier years at University, and he really is just as eloquent as Whishaw makes him out to be. There’s a scene in the forest where he storms around himself, thinking that Fanny Brawne (Cornish) is in love with his best friend… He won me over right then and there. Oh! My heart! I smiled in adoration of his adorable little face when he was angry. I was completely smitten! Little girlish squeal and giggles every time he spoke. Cutie-patootie. Aside from that, he’s a brilliant actor. He didn’t shine as much as Abbie did, for sure, but he didn’t need to… this was a supporting role. He delivered it well. You’ll want to read poetry after you watch Ben Whishaw. I guarantee it.

The cinematography of this film should also be noted. It reminded me a great deal of “Slumdog Millionaire,” with the ‘weaving-through-surroundings’ thing. Only this time, instead of weaving-through-slums, there was weaving-through-nature. Very Keats-like. And, as we all know, Slumdog won the Oscar for Cinematography. Can the same style win it again?

Original Score… again, I’m having issues here. The music is fabulous. But in this film, there was too little of it, literally. The majority of the film was silent. When there was a little violin or a little symphony, it was phenomenal. It played an excellent role in the film. But, the fact that there was such little music could possibly compliment the film, instead of hurt it, in the sense that — it needn’t be there to enforce emotion in the viewers. The actors (believe me!) did that on their own. So, sure, if the score had extended a bit — it would definitely pick up an Oscar nom. But given the circumstances, there’s a strong chance that it just won’t happen.

Now, in “Julie and Julia” I called it out early and suggested that this film will get an Oscar nom for costume design. EASY. And I was totally right. In the beginning of the film, like everything else, I had some serious doubts that it was up to par. But, again as the film progressed, you are wowed by the accuracy of the time period, and the detail in the work. It also didn’t look pretty — which I appreciated. The tendency with Hollywood films is that the costume designer tweaks the attire to make it “audience appealing” but that is not the case here. The time period is worn down to the very last frill on their bonnets. It looks weird, and it’s supposed to. Well done, well done. The costume category this year at the Oscars has serious competition! Ahhh, look out!

Directing nom, doubt it. Technology and Effects, there was none. Editing, not so hot… maybe a good scene here and there.

But despite those predictions, this is the part where I rave about how much I adored this movie. And it is because of one scene…

When John Keats dies (sorry!) you don’t see him. You only see  and hear the news delivered to Fanny Brawne by his best friend (Charles Brown played by Paul Schneider, who was hilarious throughout the film.) This is where Abbie Cornish destroys you. It takes serious skill to do what she does. And as a beginner actress, wow. Cornish storms out of the room (incredible cinematography there) collapses and cries for a duration of 3 minutes. Most scenes like this in other films last for a few seconds.  But here, the screen doesn’t change. Ever. You watch her sob for all 3 minutes. I have never cried during a film as hard as I did right there. Not even in “Titanic.” The entire theater is silenced. There is no accompanying music (which there usually is in scenes like this). And Cornish held her own. She broke you down with her violent sobs and gasps for air. Her screaming and calling his name… unbelievable. If you’re going to see this film, that is the scene to watch out for.

On a final note, the credits. Of course, no one usually talks about how good the credits were at the end of a film. You’d think the person was a little … off. But these credits were original. Normally, they would be accompanied by the theme from the score/soundtrack. Music plays as names fly across the screen. People get up, stretch, shake the popcorn off their clothes, and exit the theater. Not here. Not in this film. These credits were accompanied by silence, only broken by the voice of John Keats (Ben Whishaw) reading the poetry he wrote about Fanny Brawne. THAT is an incredible idea. And a true tribute to Keats and his legend. No one, absolutely no one, left the theater until the credits were finished. The lights had turned on, and the “cinema people” had come in to clear the theater, but no one left. As long as Keats was speaking, and the credits were rolling, no one moved. Not until his final word.

Phenomenal.

I don’t really think the film will be that good at all, but BUT… I love films that are set in this time period. Most of them are rubbish, but the costuming is just devine and usually the colors are beautiful.

The film is directed by Jane Campion (who one an Academy Award for best original screenplay in 1994 for the film The Piano)

Ben Whishaw (from Perfume: The Story of a Murderer) plays the young John Keats. He’s pretty nice to look it, in my opinion.

ALSO.. the little red-headed boy in the trailer, I believe is the little boy in Love Actually (Thomas Sangster)… he’s no so little anymore!