What works in a book doesn't necessarily transfer well to celluloid.
Brighton Rock is rightly regarded as a classic – both Graham Greene's novel and John Boulting's 1947 film – for which Greene co-wrote the screenplay with Terence Rattigan.
At the book's conclusion, Pinkie's naïve young widow, Rose, hears the disc her psychopathic husband had recorded prior to his death in which he spits out his vitriolic contempt for her. Realising this would lack dramatic impact, the screenwriters changed the scenario so the needle sticks on the vinyl giving Rose the mistaken belief that Pinkie was actually expressing his love.
Unfortunately, David Nicholls' screenplay for this latest version of Thomas Hardy's Far From the Madding Crowd fails to take such liberties to enhance the storytelling. I've always preferred filmed versions of Hardy's work to his own rather bombastic prose, although his stories are, in the main, strong. But here, the tale of a young woman Bathsheba Everdene (the ever reliable Carey Mulligan), inheriting a farm and and defying expectations by running it herself, there are far too many happenstances, too many coincidences to give credibility. This is especially true for events surrounding her suitor and eventual husband, Sergeant Francis Troy (Tom Sturridge); as the plot evolves, plausibility is stretched beyond limit.
Plausibility is also in short supply for the sudden capitulation of Bathsheba to the young soldier's wooing. The heroine is, to that point, shown as a strong willed and fiercely independent post-feminist. She rejects the marriage proposal from the inherently kind and handsome Gabriel Oak (Matthias Schoenaerts) as well as those from the wealthy, if rather dull and middle-aged, William Boldwood (Michael Sheen). Yet we are somehow expected to believe that as soon as Sergeant Troy enters the fray and flashes his sword, she immediately starts behaving like a simpering fifteen year old at her favourite boy band's concert. Bathsheba herself states she can't believe she's behaving so. The trouble is – neither can we.
This is due in part to miscasting. Tom Sturridge, who also failed to make any impression as Allen Ginsberg in On the Road, lacks the screen presence and smouldering sexuality for the audience to accept he could reduce a fair maiden so; Matthias Schoenaerts might very well have achieved it.
The Danish team of director Thomas Vinterberg and cinematographer Charlotte Bruus Christensen, whose last film was the exceptional 2012 drama Jagten (The Hunt), capture wonderfully the beauty of the Dorset landscape and its changing moods. Perhaps it takes an outsider's eye to do this with such clarity – rarely can early morning autumnal mists have looked so appealing. But Vinterberg must take the blame for a rushed ending; far too much was shoe-horned into the final fifteen minutes.
The film is always easy on the eye, its production values are stand out and costumes and locations are extremely well done. To borrow from Dr Johnson, the film is worth seeing, but not worth going to see.
Brighton Rock is rightly regarded as a classic – both Graham Greene's novel and John Boulting's 1947 film – for which Greene co-wrote the screenplay with Terence Rattigan.
At the book's conclusion, Pinkie's naïve young widow, Rose, hears the disc her psychopathic husband had recorded prior to his death in which he spits out his vitriolic contempt for her. Realising this would lack dramatic impact, the screenwriters changed the scenario so the needle sticks on the vinyl giving Rose the mistaken belief that Pinkie was actually expressing his love.
Unfortunately, David Nicholls' screenplay for this latest version of Thomas Hardy's Far From the Madding Crowd fails to take such liberties to enhance the storytelling. I've always preferred filmed versions of Hardy's work to his own rather bombastic prose, although his stories are, in the main, strong. But here, the tale of a young woman Bathsheba Everdene (the ever reliable Carey Mulligan), inheriting a farm and and defying expectations by running it herself, there are far too many happenstances, too many coincidences to give credibility. This is especially true for events surrounding her suitor and eventual husband, Sergeant Francis Troy (Tom Sturridge); as the plot evolves, plausibility is stretched beyond limit.
Plausibility is also in short supply for the sudden capitulation of Bathsheba to the young soldier's wooing. The heroine is, to that point, shown as a strong willed and fiercely independent post-feminist. She rejects the marriage proposal from the inherently kind and handsome Gabriel Oak (Matthias Schoenaerts) as well as those from the wealthy, if rather dull and middle-aged, William Boldwood (Michael Sheen). Yet we are somehow expected to believe that as soon as Sergeant Troy enters the fray and flashes his sword, she immediately starts behaving like a simpering fifteen year old at her favourite boy band's concert. Bathsheba herself states she can't believe she's behaving so. The trouble is – neither can we.
This is due in part to miscasting. Tom Sturridge, who also failed to make any impression as Allen Ginsberg in On the Road, lacks the screen presence and smouldering sexuality for the audience to accept he could reduce a fair maiden so; Matthias Schoenaerts might very well have achieved it.
The Danish team of director Thomas Vinterberg and cinematographer Charlotte Bruus Christensen, whose last film was the exceptional 2012 drama Jagten (The Hunt), capture wonderfully the beauty of the Dorset landscape and its changing moods. Perhaps it takes an outsider's eye to do this with such clarity – rarely can early morning autumnal mists have looked so appealing. But Vinterberg must take the blame for a rushed ending; far too much was shoe-horned into the final fifteen minutes.
The film is always easy on the eye, its production values are stand out and costumes and locations are extremely well done. To borrow from Dr Johnson, the film is worth seeing, but not worth going to see.