What made this viewer particularly realize with this film was that Mike Leigh's casting pitch more than simply choices is a straight descendant of Hogarth characterology; that granted, the question begs itself, why then choose Turner as subject.
In his interiors and caricatures alike, what strikes one is a gargantuan strife to come to terms with what society inscribes, to call it that, as internal antagonism: naturalistic or realistic eccentricity, or just plain Englishness, it seems to me simply circumvents the gist.
I do not think that Mike Leigh sidesteps the confrontation; it is rather that confrontation obfuscates clarity of vision, as if vision partakes of vulgarity that pre-inscribed class antagonism does not repress: politics seem more crucial to him, as the rather bland - and downplaying - presentation of John Ruskin exemplifies, politics as an agenda of modern sensitivity, especially in the portrayal of women, face to Victorian prudishness. But when one considers what is at stake in the anachronism is it not that Victorian prudishness wins?
Maybe a sense of paterian appreciation would be wanting, but since Ruskin was Turner's executor, the scene where he visits and Turner's attention turns to the moths this crude future anterior disavowal in favor of down-to-earth matters is not sarcastically realistic but another sample in the downplaying coalition of grumpy motifs.
The camera work is close to suggestively essayist, from Turner's depiction in profile when in frustration especially when meeting his ex-wife, to the almost great scene in the Royal Academy with camera spinning and tracing the grunting males (sic), specifically when contrasted to the half-cut screen sense after Victoria's visit.
To have a doggedness of spirit so amply played may be commendable, yet I wonder, when we have in the end the shot-from-above last-words scene with the vitalistic sun pun cinematic God-shot this does not suggest an embattled sense of English religiousness, only the rushed firm-footedness of what sounds more like Nietzsche than shows like Turner. It does not get deeper than a quote. Why do I say this?
When earlier in the salon gathering in Ruskin's place we have the conversation running among gooseberries, we should have in mind that since his beginnings Mike Leigh is a post-Beckett phenomenon, continuously trying to re-appropriate Beckett's pathos in English class-ridden sensibility, as is the case of dramatists from Pinter onwards - and one classic line in Beckett is the one from "Krapp's last tape": Picking gooseberries, she said. The scene in "Mr. Turner" stems from that, towards the semi-naturalist semi-camp Mike Leigh is prone to.
And there we have the confrontation of quoting with anachronism and what one better had in mind when tackling artistically such matters: in order to renegotiate and mar war with tradition and make it happen tomorrow, rough and raw males and females on the under-appreciated fringe should voice, as in the last lines in Beckett's play, their "not with the fire within me now". Or what picking gooseberries entails. Beckett can be amazingly ironic and direct, perhaps never more than in the former phrase, while Leigh prefers to be humanist and confrontational. But the question remains: why not choose a subject not jarringly tuned to his sensibility, instead of condemning the vicissitudes of the romantic era from which he is not exempt? Why not have something like say Pinter's last tape next time, with Tom Jones in the lead?
In his interiors and caricatures alike, what strikes one is a gargantuan strife to come to terms with what society inscribes, to call it that, as internal antagonism: naturalistic or realistic eccentricity, or just plain Englishness, it seems to me simply circumvents the gist.
I do not think that Mike Leigh sidesteps the confrontation; it is rather that confrontation obfuscates clarity of vision, as if vision partakes of vulgarity that pre-inscribed class antagonism does not repress: politics seem more crucial to him, as the rather bland - and downplaying - presentation of John Ruskin exemplifies, politics as an agenda of modern sensitivity, especially in the portrayal of women, face to Victorian prudishness. But when one considers what is at stake in the anachronism is it not that Victorian prudishness wins?
Maybe a sense of paterian appreciation would be wanting, but since Ruskin was Turner's executor, the scene where he visits and Turner's attention turns to the moths this crude future anterior disavowal in favor of down-to-earth matters is not sarcastically realistic but another sample in the downplaying coalition of grumpy motifs.
The camera work is close to suggestively essayist, from Turner's depiction in profile when in frustration especially when meeting his ex-wife, to the almost great scene in the Royal Academy with camera spinning and tracing the grunting males (sic), specifically when contrasted to the half-cut screen sense after Victoria's visit.
To have a doggedness of spirit so amply played may be commendable, yet I wonder, when we have in the end the shot-from-above last-words scene with the vitalistic sun pun cinematic God-shot this does not suggest an embattled sense of English religiousness, only the rushed firm-footedness of what sounds more like Nietzsche than shows like Turner. It does not get deeper than a quote. Why do I say this?
When earlier in the salon gathering in Ruskin's place we have the conversation running among gooseberries, we should have in mind that since his beginnings Mike Leigh is a post-Beckett phenomenon, continuously trying to re-appropriate Beckett's pathos in English class-ridden sensibility, as is the case of dramatists from Pinter onwards - and one classic line in Beckett is the one from "Krapp's last tape": Picking gooseberries, she said. The scene in "Mr. Turner" stems from that, towards the semi-naturalist semi-camp Mike Leigh is prone to.
And there we have the confrontation of quoting with anachronism and what one better had in mind when tackling artistically such matters: in order to renegotiate and mar war with tradition and make it happen tomorrow, rough and raw males and females on the under-appreciated fringe should voice, as in the last lines in Beckett's play, their "not with the fire within me now". Or what picking gooseberries entails. Beckett can be amazingly ironic and direct, perhaps never more than in the former phrase, while Leigh prefers to be humanist and confrontational. But the question remains: why not choose a subject not jarringly tuned to his sensibility, instead of condemning the vicissitudes of the romantic era from which he is not exempt? Why not have something like say Pinter's last tape next time, with Tom Jones in the lead?