newcritics

The question of whether Brideshead Revisted is better now or in the fondly remembered 1981 TV version
is the wrong question, as it turns out. Perhaps the film’s best recommendation is that, approached fairly, it renders the comparisons moot. And perhaps that, in itself is proof of its success.

If only things were quite so simple.

Brideshead Revisted is an impressive, lavish attempt to retell a familiar story… and yet, ultimately, the questions of its remoteness, and its relentless moralism are what really complicate the assessment of this film’s appeal. If the piece makes you think… does it matter that the thoughts are often quite negative?

Brideshead is probably most impressive, as a story, for its sweep. There are other British school tales, there are other tales of young and wealthy hedonists, and other stories of adults haunted by the demons of their past… but rarely does one story tie all of these threads together. That, I think, is why Evelyn Waugh’s novel of Charles Ryder and his complicated attachment to the Flyte family, a wealthy brood of elite Catholics, continues to have such appeal.

The new film is suffused with the Catholicism of the mother, Lady Marchmain (a brilliant portrayal
by Emma Thompson). Possessive, devout, intolerant, Lady Marchmain makes clear to all her expectations and how and when they will be fulfilled. Her children struggle and suffer to live up to her demands. The younger son, Sebastien, struggles especially, and while away at Oxford, he develops an attachment to a young student, Charles Ryder, played here by Matthew Goode.

The early moments of the infatuation between Sebastian and Charles are perhaps the most familiar to fans of British dramas - this is the well worn territory of Another Country, Maurice, and others. Young men, between the wars, untouched by society’s expectations… it’s been a fertile ground for all sorts of gay fantasias, and here, as played by Goode and Ben Whishaw, all the familiar bells are rung: the ease of upscale British life, the casual intimacy, the exploration of a romance that, so often, leads to disappointment.

Things between Sebastian and Charles are doomed because, mainly, Charles is straight, and in short order falls for Sebastian’s sister, the enigmatic Julia Flyte. But Lady Marchm,ain’s plans intervene, as Julia is promised to become a good Catholic bride, and Charles challenges Lady Marchmain by refusing to budge from a position of determined atheism.

Over time, the heavy mix of duty, a mother’s smothering expectations, and unrequited desires takes its toll: Sebastian devolves into a louche drunkard, held at arm’s length, but never free. Julia winds up in a loveless marriage as a glittering possession, and Charles struggles to find his way in the world, while never losing his fascination for all the aspects of the Flyte’s life: from his infatuation with Julia to his
longing for their lifestyle, especially as its embodied in Brideshead, “the family pile” as such estates are generally called by their residents.

Rarely has a set so overpowered almost all around it - as with the miniseries, Castle Howard, an impressive estate, fills in for Brideshead, admirably. But unlike the miniseries, it haunts the proceedings in a more complete way, syanding in for every notion of class and wealth in British culture, and for the overpowering nature of Lady Marchmain’s demanding religiosity. Something has to - while the film is visually impressive, we are often treated to airless closeups of telling details - a glove, a necklace, a statue, meant to remind us, in shorthand, of all the British upper class values on display.

Such is the presence of Thompson in the part of Lady Marchmain that she dominates the proceedings long after she’s left the stage: this is Oscar caliber stuff, all the more impressive because Thompson wisely stages her cruelties while barely raising her voice. This is steel fist in velvet glove stuff, and it’s very well done.

But my own sense is that for Brideshead to really work best, it needs balance, and here the balance seems entirely uneven.  And while it’s hard to fault Matthew Goode for giving it his all… something is off. While some say he’s a pale stand-in for Jeremy Irons, I’d say his best choice is avoiding obviously following Irons; this is really all his own. Unfortunately, though, what he brought to my mind was a thinking man’s Cary Grant, all ambiguous sex appeal and courtly manners… and it’s interesting to consider that an actor like Grant would be utterly miscast as Ryder. And though Goode offers a lot, ultimately, his Charles is no match for the relentless moralizing and the power of Catholic ritual.

What’s left then is everything following through to foreordained conclusions: that may be as Waugh intended, but it makes for grim stuff. It’s especially cruel to the character of Sebastian, whose homosexuality seems more up front and present here than in the previous version… but dealt with far more harshly (I’m not sure those who griped about potential “soft pedaling” of Sebastian anticipated what’s here). To his credit, Ben Whishaw inhabits Sebastian with a touching gentleness that softens his descent into addiction and madness… but the result is more than a little thankless, and layered with unfortunate modern-day analogies to the AIDS epidemic that the piece simply can’t sustain. As the third leg of the triangle, Hayley Atwell plays with Julia’s uncertainties and ambiguities, but it’s hard to get the sense of what’s driving her and the emotional connections to those around her.

For all that, this Brideshead is blessed with some very strong supporting players: Michael Gambon does a fine turn as Lord Marchmain, the Flytes absent father, and Greta Scaachi makes a breathtaking return to form as his lover, Cara. Among the younger cast, the other two siblings Bridey and Cordelia are ably played by Ed Stoppard and Felicity Jones. Even more memorable is Joseph Beattie’s Anthony Blanche, who provides the necessary in-between notion of a gay life between the extremes of Sebastian’s dissolution and Charles’ flat-put rejection.

Director Julian Jarrold deserves, to me anyway, a lot of credit for wading into such a risky project; this could easily have fallen far more flat, and worked much less. This is a film of ideas, and he explores them thoroughly. Visually, the film is a feast, if gradually a rather dark one, and the score too is immensely satisfying.  This is a morality play with a sumptuous look and feel.

But because of the weight of the moralizing, there’s an inescapable sense that every bit of misbehavior - the affairs, the drinking, even the pride and intolerance - carries the weight of sin. That, I think, is an awfully heavy way to answer the Question of Lust that permeates this piece and provides Brideshead’s real heat (both the film and its manorial embodiment). And that’s the only answer that lies within this grim, daunting house, for all its glorious sights and sounds. And I’m not sure that’s really enough to satisfy.

Cross posted at NYCweboy