It's very popular to bash Madonna. She did the unthinkable with American Pie, recorded what many regard the worst Bond theme ever (personally I'd give that status to Jack White and Alicia Keys) and starred in the barrel-scraping of Guy Ritchie's career, Swept Away. That's pretty damning evidence before we even begin to look at W.E.
Conversely, she deservedly won a Golden Globe for Evita, remains one of the greatest, ever-evolving and most recognizable pop icons this planet has ever seen and has recorded some fantastic, of-the-moment albums that have maintained their brilliance years, and even decades, later and sold 300 million copies and counting.
But, no, we can't escape the fact that she co-wrote and directed W.E.
Purporting to tell the story of the romance of Wallis Simpson and King Edward VIII from the point of view the most hated woman in the world, W.E. dallies with her first marriage, ponders her second and deliberates over the third and final that brings about the abdication that rocked the Empire he ruled. It's a story that should be told. Focus is usually given to all that Edward renounced in order to marry the woman he loved and Madonna has decided to set the record straight. Unfortunately, her McGuffin is a latter day story about a Wallis aficionado, played by Abie Cornish and named after her heroine, who finds love with a security guard at Sotherby's while viewing the multitudinous lots in an auction of the couple's possessions. Yawn.
It's not a dreadful film but it certainly isn't very good. It's been directed by a biased fan, rather than an impartial or enlightened expert, with all the subtlety of a rampant sledgehammer. Too much time has been spent on attempting to amaze with beautiful shots (a long sweep over the embracing couple that continues all the way up the never ending trunk of the tree they are leaning against) and clever juxtaposition that absolutely does not work (Wallis dancing to the Sex Pistols, anyone?).
The music is overpowering and inconsiderate of the performances it drowns out in a Nicholas-Cage-in-pretty-much-everything kind of way. I'm sure that was a decision rather than an accident but it erodes any favour the film might otherwise gain from the deafened audience.
At the heart of W.E. is a beautifully measured performance by Andrea Riseborough as the woman who would never be queen. Her presence is a resolute flower of quality in the midst of a period piece demolition site and her quality cannot be diminished by the inadequacy that surrounds her. It's good to see Richard Coyle back on the big screen in a role that will hopefully remind casting agents he exists but Lawrence Fox is a weak pastiche of the stuttering Bertie, particularly after the lauded portrayal by Colin Firth in The King's Speech.
It's a mess. Other than Riseborough, the highpoint is, ironically, Madonna's song over the end credits but I'd give it a listen on YouTube rather than ploughing through W.E. to reach it.
Another film review from The Squiss. For more reviews from The Squiss subscribe to my blog at www.thesquiss.co.uk
Conversely, she deservedly won a Golden Globe for Evita, remains one of the greatest, ever-evolving and most recognizable pop icons this planet has ever seen and has recorded some fantastic, of-the-moment albums that have maintained their brilliance years, and even decades, later and sold 300 million copies and counting.
But, no, we can't escape the fact that she co-wrote and directed W.E.
Purporting to tell the story of the romance of Wallis Simpson and King Edward VIII from the point of view the most hated woman in the world, W.E. dallies with her first marriage, ponders her second and deliberates over the third and final that brings about the abdication that rocked the Empire he ruled. It's a story that should be told. Focus is usually given to all that Edward renounced in order to marry the woman he loved and Madonna has decided to set the record straight. Unfortunately, her McGuffin is a latter day story about a Wallis aficionado, played by Abie Cornish and named after her heroine, who finds love with a security guard at Sotherby's while viewing the multitudinous lots in an auction of the couple's possessions. Yawn.
It's not a dreadful film but it certainly isn't very good. It's been directed by a biased fan, rather than an impartial or enlightened expert, with all the subtlety of a rampant sledgehammer. Too much time has been spent on attempting to amaze with beautiful shots (a long sweep over the embracing couple that continues all the way up the never ending trunk of the tree they are leaning against) and clever juxtaposition that absolutely does not work (Wallis dancing to the Sex Pistols, anyone?).
The music is overpowering and inconsiderate of the performances it drowns out in a Nicholas-Cage-in-pretty-much-everything kind of way. I'm sure that was a decision rather than an accident but it erodes any favour the film might otherwise gain from the deafened audience.
At the heart of W.E. is a beautifully measured performance by Andrea Riseborough as the woman who would never be queen. Her presence is a resolute flower of quality in the midst of a period piece demolition site and her quality cannot be diminished by the inadequacy that surrounds her. It's good to see Richard Coyle back on the big screen in a role that will hopefully remind casting agents he exists but Lawrence Fox is a weak pastiche of the stuttering Bertie, particularly after the lauded portrayal by Colin Firth in The King's Speech.
It's a mess. Other than Riseborough, the highpoint is, ironically, Madonna's song over the end credits but I'd give it a listen on YouTube rather than ploughing through W.E. to reach it.
Another film review from The Squiss. For more reviews from The Squiss subscribe to my blog at www.thesquiss.co.uk