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 Caryn James, New York Times, September 9, 1994 One Woman, 2 Men And Their Secret A woman in 19th-century dress stands on a hill, her back to the camera, looking toward the gorgeously photographed sea. She brings to mind many other enigmatic heroines in movies and novels, from "The French Lieutenant's Woman" to "The Piano." Like them, Sarah, the title character of "December Bride," embodies the flip side of Victorian repression. She is a sexual rebel, a servant in turn-of-the-century Ireland who moves into the house of two brothers, becomes pregnant, and defies anyone in their narrow community of Ulster Presbyterians to make her reveal which of the men is the child's father. What sets this 1990 Irish film apart from others of the enigmatic-heroine school is that Sarah (Saskia Reeves) seems more willful than sensuous, her rebellion one of class at least as much as passion. She insists that her son have her name, and his existence elevates her status in the household. Thaddeus O'Sullivan, a cinematographer directing his first feature, has smoothly overcome a thorny problem here. "December Bride" is a passionate film about people who seem uncomfortable with sex, an eloquent film about inarticulate characters. The older brother, Hamilton (Donal McCann, best known for his role in John Huston's final film, "The Dead"), is well into middle age, and full of emotional warmth and responsibility. He is willing to marry Sarah, but she refuses. His younger brother, Frank (Ciaran Hinds), is the handsome one. He is also the selfish one, who yells at Sarah's mother, "Remember that you are a servant in this house!" That line is among his longer speeches, and it sends the old woman packing, while Sarah remains behind with the brothers. Faced with a neat split between Frank's sexual attractiveness and Hamilton's affection, Sarah chooses both. The secret of which brother she loves, and when, is kept from the movie audience almost as thoroughly as it is from the community. Keeping things mysterious makes sense; though her affections seem to sway from one brother to the other, the three are profoundly linked. Eventually the brothers battle each other, yet the menage a trois stands united against a scandalized neighborhood. Bruno de Keyzer's rich photography makes the seaside landscape look varied and stunning, from a wild storm at sea to a peaceful church garden and whitewashed thatched cottages with dim interiors. But the emotional tone of "December Bride," which opens today at the Quad Cinema, is as harsh and complicated as the lives of its characters. The main actors are exceptional at suggesting, through looks and gestures, the complications beneath their arrangement. Ms. Reeves's stern face and manner suit Sarah's willfulness; even at her youngest and prettiest there is nothing soft about her. Mr. McCann makes Hamilton just alluring enough to entice Sarah, though his natural personality seems as dull as their old wooden table. Mr. Hinds even creates sympathy for Frank, a man whose idea of courtship is to grab Sarah without a word. A chorus of minor characters, all acted with great impact, define the narrow world that has provoked Sarah. Early in the film, Frank and Hamilton's father (Geoffrey Golden) makes a dramatic gesture that ends his own life and influences Sarah's. Brenda Bruce, as Sarah's mother, reveals her character's sincerity even when she is maddening, trying to hector everyone back to religion. And as the minister who tries to urge Sarah and the brothers to make things right, Patrick Malahide is a sad vision: thin-lipped, self-righteousness yet astute. "When the community are offended these are a people with hard hearts," he tells Hamilton. Hard though she seems on the surface, Sarah's heart turns out to be soft after all. At the end, the film jumps ahead 18 years. Sarah makes a grand concession to society, but she keeps more than one secret.
TCh, Time Out Slim pickings from David Puttnam, reunited with Chariots of Fire screenwriter Colin Welland: this mildly diverting entertainment is a remake of Yves Robert's La Guerre des Boutons (1962). Transposed to County Cork, the film charts the feud between the pupils of neighbouring village schools, the Carricks and the Ballys. While the dispute's origins remain hazy, it soon escalates via public humiliation and private recrimination to 'all-out war', sticks and stones - and buttons - at the ready. Relatively unsentimental. School for Seduction Official Site Adrian Hennigan, BBC Website Brit chick flick School For Seduction is a shamelessly crowd-pleasing comedy with more than enough charm to compensate for its lightweight nature. In her first starring role, Kelly Brook is surprisingly convincing as an Italian beauty who sets up an "Academy of Seductive Arts" in Newcastle. She's aided by a fine cast, including newcomer Jessica Johnson, who steals the show as a ballsy checkout girl with more mouth than the Tyne. Sue Heel's movie may start with a quote by Simone De Beauvoir ("One is not born but becomes a woman"), but that's as far as its literary pretensions go. Thereafter it's a raucous, warm-hearted comedy where the laughs are primarily at the expense of emotionally retarded men (there's another kind?). We're encouraged - no, forced - to root for a group of women with self-esteem issues: single mum Kelly (the ever-dependable Emily Woof) has to work night and day to support her stroppy teenage daughter (there's another kind?); sister Donna (Johnson) works alongside her at the local superstore; Irene (Margi Clarke) is another colleague, battering fish and her husband's ego at the neighbourhood chippy. White collar Clare (Dervla Kirwan) may be a step up the social ladder but she's trapped in a loveless marriage to Craig (Neil Stuke), a car fanatic who thinks more of his Ferrari's chassis than his wife's. Self-improvement beckons, though, when the women enroll at the Italian Academy of Seduction, run by the mysterious Sophia Rossellini (Brook). Here life lessons will be learned by everyone, including teacher... Providing you go in expecting a working class comedy that dispenses feminism for dummies, School For Seduction won't disappoint. Although it would work equally well on the small screen, it's also the rarest of British movies: one aimed primarily at women. The Full Monty for girls - howay the lasses.
Olly Richards, Empire Online In the spirit of The Full Monty, Sue Heel's debut sets a group of Northern women on the path to empowerment through the seduction classes of a mysterious Italian temptress (Brook). The assembled Brit actresses play their parts with hen-partyish largesse - special mention to newcomer Jessica Johnson, who strides through her sluttish role like a refugee from a Mike Leigh comedy - but Heel doesn't manage the big laughs that a UK comedy needs to compete with the big boys. Brook, as the improbably named Sophia Rosselini, may get her name above the title, but only takes a small, showy role. She stumbles a little with the accent, but the odd moment of affecting emotion suggests she deserves a career beyond men's mag cover posing. Kelly Brook is something of a surprise in the acting stakes, but overall the film never gets beyond flirting with the audience for laughs.
Anton Bitel, Movie Gazette The beautiful Sophia Rosselini (Kelly Brook) clears out of Naples fast, seeking refuge from her husband Giovanni (Jake Canuso) in, of all places, Newcastle-upon-Tyne. There she opens an 'Academy of Seductive Arts', offering lessons in seduction, glamour and 'being a woman'. Her nightclass attracts women (and even a man) of every age and background, all united by a yearning for change. Kelly (Emily Woof) is a young single mother who longs for a managerial position with better pay and fewer hours; Clare (Dervla Kirawn) wishes her chauvinist husband Craig (Neil Stuke) would show greater interest in her than in his Alfa Romeo Spider; Irene (Margi Clarke) wants to rekindle the lost passion in her decades-spanning marriage to Derek (Tim Healy); Donna (Jessica Johnson) wants to find something worthwhile beyond her job at the ASDA checkout, and thinks she may have found it in Irene's son Mark (Daymon Brittan); and Toni (Ben Porter) wants to improve his female impersonation act. Sophia gives them all the confidence they need to transform their lives - only she harbours a secret with the potential to undermine all her lessons. Think 'Trainspotting' without the drugs, think Calendar Girls without as much stripping, Love, Actually without the sentimentality, think The Full Monty inflected with post-feminism, and you will end up with something like 'School for Seduction', a welcome addition to the kind of multi-narrative ensemble comedy at which British cinema seems to excel. Just as the eponymous lead of 'Shirley Valentine' found release from Northern drudgery and a stale marriage in the sunnier climes of Greece, the characters in 'School for Seduction' seek to overcome their dissatisfactions and disappointments in life with a dose of Mediterranean magic - even if they do not travel to the actual Italy (like the characters in Italian for Beginners), but rather import to their own shores an idea of Italianness which proves far more potent in energising their dreams and firing their passions than any reality could. Some of the film's funniest moments come in the bizarre merging of Northern English and Roman sensibilities - Irene trying to stroke a microwave seductively, and suggesting a meal of ravioli to her none too enthusiastic husband ("they're like little bags of sick"), Donna ordering a fishcake from Mark with all the sultriness she can muster, and Sophia increasing the male trade in Irene's fish and chip shop by serving saveloys as though she were a Fellini temptress. Conveying a positive message of self-realisation without ever becoming too serious, deftly interweaving several storylines, and showcasing excellent female acting talent both established and new (especially Jessica Johnson), Sue Heel's entertaining debut 'School for Seduction' demonstrates that while there may be a bit of Latin spirit in everybody, there is also lots of Northern soul. It's Got: A positive image of female solidarity and self-realisation; a grown man who has named, and talks to, his sportscar; corruption in the lower ranks of ASDA; excursions to a place called clitoris; and the film ends with a character declaring 'Shite!' It Needs: Well, it's a bit slight (but hey, it is a comedy) Alternatives: Italian for Beginners, 'Shirley Valentine', Calendar Girls, The Full Monty Summary: This post-feminist ensemble comedy shows that while there may be Latin spirit in everyone, there is also Northern soul.
Harry Angel, iofilm.co.uk Stars: 2 1/2 Italian beauty Sophia (Kelly Brook) graduates from a posh Neapolitan finishing school and hotfoots it to Newcastle. Not the most obvious career move, you suspect, but the mysterious Sophia is on a mission - to teach the art of seduction to the good ladies of Geordieland. "Confidence," she announces, "that is the true art of seduction. A confident woman is a powerful woman. Master this and the world is at your feet." It's an interesting premise and there are some amusing, if fairly predictable, set pieces as our fish-out-of-water Geordie lasses get the low-down on how to romance their husbands and boyfriends, even if this doesn't seem to amount to much more than learning how to walk, how to sit down and how to unroll a pair of stockings. School For Seduction was written with Brook in mind and the much-maligned former host of Channel 4's Big Breakfast just about pulls it off, despite her ropey Italian accent. She looks the part and bears more than a passing resemblance to a young Sophia Loren and when she's strutting her stuff, she's very convincing. But her range is limited and at times looks uncomfortable under the spotlight. We're led to believe that there's more to Sophia than meets the eye - the soundtrack includes a nightclub rendition of The Great Pretender, just in case we haven't cottoned on - but Brook struggles to convey this. She does wrinkle her beautiful brow every now and then, but that's about as far as the emotions go. The best bits come from old hands Tim Healy and Margi Clarke, as bickering husband and wife Derek and Irene. Inspired by Sophia, Irene plans a romantic evening in and offers to cook ravioli. Derek makes a face and says he doesn't want ravioli because it looks like "little bags of sick". There are also strong performances from newcomers Daymon Britton, as the laddish Mark, Derek and Irene's son, and Jessica Johnson, as hard-nosed Donna. Even Donna succumbs to Sophia's spell, and in one of the funniest scenes, we see her practicising her pout in the mirror as she tries to imitate Sophia. Later, eager to impress Mark in the pub, she foregoes her normal vodka-and-coke and nonchalantly orders a glass of wine. For Donna, you feel, this is the height of sophistication. There are plenty of laughs and the story moves quickly along, but every now and then it hits a wrong note. Mark and Donna both talk about "finding themselves" and doing something "worthwhile" with their lives and it sounds mechanical, like a clumsy attempt at adding gravitas to the proceedings. Some of the supporting roles begin to grate after a while. This is a film about girl power, and that's fine, but what about the guys? Craig (Neil Stuke) dotes on his Italian sports car, but ignores his wife. Derek would rather play a round of golf than play around with Irene. Kelly (Emily Woof) is single, but has a creepy boss who undermines her at every opportunity. They're chick-flick cardboard cutouts and, by the end, indistinguishable.
Rich Cline, Z Review Clearly trying to be Sex and the City meets The Full Monty, this cheery British comedy is quite watchable, even if the lack of budget and filmmaking experience shows. Set in Newcastle, we follow a group of lovelorn women attending a seduction course taught by the sexy Italian Sophia (Brook). Kelly (Woof) is struggling with two jobs and a surly teen daughter (Blackwell). Clare (Kirwan) is a professional woman whose loutish husband (Stuke) cares only about his precious Alfa Romeo. Chip shop cook Irene (Clarke) works is trying to spice up her marriage to Derek (Healy). And Kelly's pal Donna (Johnson) wants to seduce Irene and Derek's son (Britton), who's home from university. Throw in a loutish boss (Whitfield), a macho ex-husband (Canuso) and a transvestite (Porter). Yes, director-cowriter Heel clearly has something against men! Not a single one escapes criticism--they're all selfish, insensitive pigs, while the vivacious women around them are all trying to make life better. It's surprising how unbalanced the film is in this area. Sure, it has a good point, but even the story's nicest guy makes some thoughtless mistakes (and gets humiliated in the now-requisite "locked out of the house naked just when Mum and Dad arrive home" scene). The cast is quite good, in an undemanding sort of way. Brook just about carries off her character, which is scripted with an obvious fatal flaw that we just wait to arrive. Meanwhile, there's a marvellous sense of camaraderie between the women that almost makes it feel like a seasoned sitcom. And Heel uses the Newcastle setting well (although perhaps tries too hard to make sure all the landmarks are within view). So it's a pity that she simplifies the issues, settling for either silly hijinks or teary emotion when something edgier would have made the film a lot more telling. And funnier! Her central point is very compelling--that seduction isn't about pleasing men, but pleasing yourself. So why is she so quick to abandon it for mere romantic goofiness?
Matt Arnoldi, Fazed.com UK directorial debutante Sue Heel takes you up North for a chick-flick comedy about a group of local women being given classes in the art of seduction by Billy Zane's girlfriend Kelly Brook who plays an unlikely Italian teacher, gifted in such seductive charms. It's suggested that this group of Northern women need a hand in getting seductive lessons because their men (the likes of Neil Stuke and Daymon Brittan) are selfish chauvinists who don't appreciate the women in their lives. Thus the likes of Emily Woof, Margi Clarke and Dervla Kirwan have to learn the arts of putting on graces and being proud of their bodies to attract their men again. Its girl power comedy, fairly thin in terms of a plot and a story and all slightly too unbelievable to deserve real credit, but if you' re looking for a film for a girlie night out where you don't have to think too hard, this one may suit.
Doctor Who: The Next Doctor - BBC1, 6pm, 25 December 2008 Gareth McLean Guardian Let us... look to the stars and The Next Doctor, in which Davids Tennant and Morrissey battle Evil Dervla Kirwan (in a big red frock) and the Cybermen in snowy Victorian London. Needless to say, this special is a lot better than last year - a lot - and not just because David Morrissey is a magnificent actor and a lot easier on the eye than Kylie Minogue. For a start, The Next Doctor is about something. It has a proper story (as opposed to a surfeit of CGI), some lovely sharp lines and self-referential moments that, mostly, aren't self-indulgent. It also has a mean villainess in Kirwan's chilly Miss Hartigan, and did I mention that David Morrissey is magnificent? Well he is.
Robert Colvile Daily Telegraph And Dervla Kirwan, as the diabolical workhouse supervisor Miss Hartigan, was an icy delight, as cold and inhuman as her Cyberman allies.
Alan Stanley Blair SyFy Portal Dervla Kirwan is a fantastic choice for a villain and carries both her hurt human character and Cyber King role gloriously. She isn't just evil, she's "Doctor Who" evil.
The Aristocrats, Lyttleton, National Theatre, London, summer 2005 Gareth Webb, musicohm.com The National's revival of Brian Friel's distinctly Chekhovian play honours the realism of the text. Rather than a production full of grand sets and technical wizardry, it is one that focuses on the characters and the simple but important themes Friel hoped to convey. As members of an aristocratic Irish family descend on Ballybeg Hall for young Claire's wedding, the audience becomes aware both of the cracks within the foundations of the building and within the family; lost dreams are exposed and a past era of Irish decadence draws to a close. TP McKenna takes on the role of the last of the 'old' aristocracy, a senile old judge and father of five children. Although very weak and kept off-stage, he still maintains a very ominous presence, as his rants are heard by way of a baby monitor. From the start Claire's wedding lacks the usual sense of joy and celebration, but what little there is, is quickly forgotten as death strikes Ballybeg Hall and the family are forced to consider their futures. Friel's play deals with very real people in very real, if peculiar, situations. It quickly becomes apparent that the children of this ancient line are lost in fantasy and fleets of fancy. Their lives seem to be damaged; they teeter on the fault line between their ancient ancestry and the pressures of modernism. A secret life in Hamburg, an obsession with Chopin, political radicalism, Catholic piety and alcohol - all forms of escapism for this decaying family. As the youngest children, Andrew Scott, as Casimir, and Marcella Plunkett, as Claire, appear to be the most affected. The latter obsessed with playing Chopin and the former obsessed with hearing it; the music becomes an allusion to a past and unknown time, but is also an obvious reflection of the characters emotional and mental anguish. Both actors show a deep fervour and Scott's performance is particularly uncomfortable - he depicts a man with a troubled mind with astonishing ease. They both become so enveloped by their characters eccentricities that the stage could be mistaken for an asylum. As elder sister Judith, Gina McKee brings a genuine stoicism to the stage. Probably the most tragic character, she has sacrificed everything for her father and the sake of a family home and name. Friel has built a vivid past for her, with elements of political extremism, and although McKee plays her as more of a nurse than a rebel, the she conveys the character's strengths with deep sincerity. As the alcoholic Alice, Dervla Kirwan plays a desperately miserable woman, completely lost in life. Alice's siblings have their passions, but she has only alcohol and Kirwan plays out her anxieties with painful contemplation. Brian Doherty and Peter McDonald also excel as two outsiders absorbed into this eccentric household, but it is Stephen Boxer, as the American writer Tom Huffnung, who plays the more interesting foreigner. He has come to observe the family for his studies of Irish history but soon realises that the fantastic tales he has been told are mere fabrication. As a representation of Friel himself, it his role to commentate on the past, present and future Ireland. The difference between Friel and Huffnung is that Friel is a native, capable of demonstrating an insightful and informative tableau of the decaying traditions, not just within Ireland, but in Britain as a whole. His play is tragic but not melodramatic, thematically stunning but not gratuitous. Tom Cairns� production is a simple but amazingly effective interpretation of this.
Philip Fisher, British Theatre Guide Director Tom Cairns has collected a super cast for his revival of Brian Friel's 1979 bittersweet comedy about Irish gentry in decline. In this company, Andrew Scott, surely a star in the making, really shines as the oddest of an odd bunch. The O'Donnells are a family of Catholic lawyers who, for generations, have ruled Ballybeg in Donegal from the big house. As youngest daughter Claire prepares for her marriage to a man twice her age, the family gathers around and is observed by a historian. Stephen Boxer plays Tom Hoffnung an affable but rather gullible Professor from Chicago. Things are changing in the late 1970s as the patriarch, invisible until the moment of his death, loses his iron grip over the lives of his children. They are in their twenties to forties and each has found a different way to wreck their own lives. Scott plays quirky fantasist, Casimir, seemingly a historian's dream but in practice, a man born on April Fool's Day for good reason. His tics and extravagant behaviour may be real but his wife and family in Germany almost certainly aren't. He has much fun though at the expense of the Professor, discovering more icons in the living room than would feature in the most glorious Russian Cathedral. Marcella Plunkett as Claire may play peaceful Chopin on the piano but she is on tranquillisers and constantly seems ready to burst into tears. Her jaded eldest sister, Dervla Kirwan's "alcoholic Alice" has escaped to London with Eamonn, a member of "the local peasantry" played by Peter McDonald; and does nothing but drink away the bad memories and bruises, both metaphorical and real. Whether their lives are any happier than maternal Judith (Gina McKee) who has given up an illegitimate baby for adoption and now nurses their irascible, incontinent father is open to question. Perhaps Anna who has become a nun living in Africa is the happiest? The hollowness of this family's imitation of the good life is symbolically demonstrated not only by Casimir's fantasies but also by a game of faux croquet that could have come straight from Lewis Carroll. Cairns, who also designs the massive set and has an eye for a memorable image, benefits from some excellent acting that brings out both the comedy and the tragedy of this family. Friel cleverly brings us around to a very hopeful ending as, following father's death, the family finally accepts that life can never again be what it has been for generations of rich, bombastic O'Donnells. They must become part of the normal community and can stop acting like lords of what is now a crumbling manor. Even ancient Uncle Tom speaks for the first time in generations. There is something desperately sad about a failing family. Aristocrats has Chekhovian depths, although the comedy is broader, and more recognisable as such, than one expects to see from the Russian master. Friel's characterisation is excellent, as he subtly reveals pieces of information about this oddball family. On occasion during the two and a half hours, so much happens to the O'Donnells that the play can begin to feel like an upper class soap opera. Aristocrats is far better than that and is another reminder of what a good playwright Brian Friel is. Dangerous Corner, Old Garrick, Autumn-Winter 2001 Tom Keatinge, London Theatre.co.uk For J.B. Priestley, there must be something lucky about the Garrick Theatre on Charing Cross Road. Having staged his An Inspector Calls for several years, the theatre now greets a tremendous new production of Dangerous Corner. Even more so than An Inspector Calls before it, Dangerous Corner deserves to run for a very long time in the West End. Laurie Sansom's updated version of the play is truly a triumph, demonstrating, if evidence were really needed, that West End theatre continues to be of the very highest quality. Set in the country home of Freda and Robert Caplan, the action takes place at a dinner party gathering of friends, most of whom work for the same publishing company, owned by Freda's father. The evening follows the familiar banter associated with such occasions - seemingly happily married couples trying to pair off singletons, sharing of gossip - all quite trivial. Yet the presence of the inquisitive American visitor Maud Mockridge turns the conversation towards an examination of the past, of the recent death of Robert Caplan's brother Martin. His death was determined by the coroner to have been a tragic case of suicide brought about by the humiliation of having been revealed as a thief of money from his own father. This is a finding that no one has sought to question - until now. And so the relationships between husband and wife, brother and sister, friend and admirer proceed to unravel and destruct as revelation leads to revelation, from which no one is exempt. And why has all this come about? The central theme of the play is that our relationships are built not around real truth, but around lies, lies that are told not with malicious intent, quite the contrary, lies that are told to avoid confrontation, that are told in order to ensure the comfortable status quo is maintained. To say more would be to reveal too much of what is a brilliant piece of theatre that keeps the audience intently absorbed for two and a half hours. It is not just the writing and direction of Dangerous Corner that mesmerises. Rarely is one treated to such tremendous performances from across an entire cast. To single out any particular performances is not to detract from the strength of the entire ensemble, however mention must be made of Patrick Robinson as the calculating Charles Stanton, who sees the fine equilibrium that he has created shattered by the evening's soul searching. Also, special note must be made of West End debutante Katie Foster-Barnes as the apparently cherubic and innocent Betty Whitehouse, a part that she plays with all the confidence and conviction of a seasoned professional. Finally, it would be wrong not to congratulate Dervla Kirwan who gives a powerful and first class performance as the tormented Olwen Peel whose slip it is that triggers the entire collapse of the group's cosy circle. And what if she had not done so, what if she had not triggered the discussion, the final scene of the play shows us, the audience, how lucky we were that she did, but how easily she might never have unleashed such tragic destruction. Everything about Dangerous Corner is perfect - you are going to have to wait a long time to experience such a fantastic combination of plot, acting, design and direction as is currently playing at the Garrick Theatre. |
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