En la playa de Chesil

"Little lamb, Here I am; Come and lick My white neck; Let me pull Your soft wool; Let me kiss Your soft face; Merrily, merrily we welcome in the year." William Blake, from Songs of Innocence Set in 1962, On Chesil Beach is far from 1963 Beach Party with Frankie Avalon and other pre sexual revolution aquatic shenanigans. Chesil is a tightly-wound story of a young Brit couple, Florence (Saoirse Ronan) and Edward (Billy Howle), just married and beyond awkward on the wedding night: dangerously innocent. It's not a comedy, for most of the film is framed by their uncertain movements as he tries to loosen her up (a major challenge) and she tries to get in the mood. Based on a novel and screenplay by the great Ian McEwan, this dramatic romance crystallizes the damaging innocence of the times and the dire need for experience. While 21st-century easy hookup time is not ideal, the danger of being clueless about the power of sex and its mandates is palpable in this star-crossed story. Florence, an upper-middle class musician with a fledgling quartet, is both the scourge of Edward's hopes to be a successful husband and the hope for their love that tries to transcend sexuality. Mozart laces throughout to elevate Darwinian love making, reminding of the ethereal heights to which art can elevate love. Yes, it's a beautifully melancholic romance whose future is endangered by present repressive times, a legacy those of us know well who were taught about the opposite sex by tyrannical and ignorant clericals, who had never been married and were usually virgins. So much is set on the beach with flashbacks to help us understand the demons that it is easy to see the future through the repression of the present. Much of the movie moves through the awkward attempt at first sex, pristine by contemporary standards. Yet, that discomfort is necessary to understand the uncompromising fate of the couple and the tears that will inevitably come. Regardless of where anyone is now, this powerful love story reminds of how deeply we are indebted to sex and how treating it casually or ignorantly inevitably leads to lives of desperation. Although at times On Chesil beach echoes the delicacy of love in Call Me By Your Name and at others by the talk of Richard Linklater's Before series, this romance evokes the innocence of first love and the ruthlessness of experience. Beautifully photographed by Sean Bobbitt, Chesil still owes most of its greatness to Dominic Cooke's direction, where the harshness of failed expectations is tempered by a love that transcends, but cannot denounce, sex. "Break this heavy chain, That does freeze my bones around! Selfish, vain, Eternal bane, That free love with bondage bound." Blake, Songs of Experience

Set against Dorset's spectacular shingle bank of Chesil Beach (which is a bitch to walk along!) the story, set primarily in 1962, joins two newly-weds Florence (Saoirse Ronan, "Brooklyn", "Lady Bird") and Edward (Billy Howle, "Dunkirk") about to embark on the sexual adventure of their conjugation at a seaside hotel. The timing of the film is critical: 1962 really marked the watershed between the staid conservatism and goody-two-shoes-ness of the 50's and the sexual liberation of the swinging sixties. Sex before marriage was frowned upon. The problem for Florence and Edward is that sex after marriage is looking pretty unlikely too! For the inexperienced couple have more hang-ups about sex than there are pebbles on the beach.

The lead-up to their union is squirm-inducing to watch: a silent silver-service meal in their room; incompetent fumbling with zippers; shoes that refuse to come off. To prolong the agony for the viewer, we work through flashbacks of their first meeting at Oxford University and their disfunctional family lives: for Florence a bullying father and mother (Samuel West and Emily Watson) and for Edward a loving but stressed father (TV regular, Adrian Scarborough) but mentally impaired mother (Anne-Marie Duff, "Suffragette", "Before I Go To Sleep").

As Ian McEwan is known to do (as per the end of "Atonement" for example), there are a couple of clever "Oh My God" twists in the tale: one merely hinted at in flashback; another involving a record-buying child that is also unresolved but begs a massive question.

The first half of the film is undoubtedly better than the last: while the screenplay is going for the "if only" twist of films like "Sliding Doors" and "La La Land", the film over-stretches with some dodgy make-up where alternative actors would have been a far better choice. The ending still had the power to move me though.

Saoirse Ronan is magnificent: I don't think I've seen the young Irish-American in a film I didn't enjoy. Here she is back with a McEwan adaptation again and bleeds discomfort with every line of her face. Her desperate longing to talk to someone - such as the kindly probing vicar - is constantly counteracted by her shame and embarassment. Howle also holds his own well (no pun intended) but when up against the acting tour de force of Ronan he is always going to appear in second place.

A brave performance comes from Anne-Marie Duff who shines as the mentally wayward mother. The flashback where we see how she came to be that way is wholly predicatable but still manages to shock. And Duff is part of a strong ensemble cast who all do their bit.

Another star of the show for me is the photography by Sean Bobbitt ("12 Years a Slave") which portrays the windswept Dorset beach beautifully but manages to get the frame close and claustrophobic when it needs to be. Wide panoramas with characters barely on the left and right of the frame will play havoc with DVD ratios on TV, but work superbly on the big screen.

Directed by stage-director Dominic Cooke, in his movie-directing debut, this is a brave story to try to move from page to screen and while it is not without faults it is a ball-achingly sad tale that moved me. Recommended if you enjoyed the similarly sad tale of "Atonement".

On Chesil Beach: The film opens with Florence (Saoirse Ronan) and Edward (Billy Howle) strolling along the eponymous beach, they have just been married that day. Returning to their hotel room a pair of piss taking waiters insist on hanging around serving the silver service meal. This adds to the couples nervousness as both seem to be inexperienced sexually which apparently wasn't unusual for university graduates in the UK in 1962.

There then follows a series of flashbacks, not in chronological order, as the attempt to consummate the marriage continues. They first met at a CND meeting in Oxford, Edward wandered in literally by accident but it was love at first sight. Not at all corny, you can literally see Cupid's Arrows crossing the room. Florence offers Edward a booklet on the likely results of a H-Bomb hitting Oxford, Edward says it sounds like a good idea.

Florence has a first in Music from Oxford, Edward's first is in History from UCL This makes Florence's mother Violet (Emily Watson) wonder if his parents are from a tradesman background and her factory owner father Geoffrey (Samuel West) is equally snobby albeit in a more restrained manner. Edward's father Lionel (Adrian Scarborough) is an engineer and his mother Marjorie (Anne-Marie Duff) is an artist but suffers from an acquired brain injury and is prone to acting unpredictably.

There is some good acting especially by Anne-Marie Duff but the thespians are hampered by a screenplay which hasn't been fully translated from novel to film, even though novelist Ian McEwan has written the adaptation. The chopped up nature of the flashbacks in this instance also hamper the development of a coherent narrative. This is still a touching story of love blighted by inexperience with some dark secrets also implied in the background. 7/10.

Not everyone finds the transition to sexual adulthood easy, particularly as one is supposed to find it natural. It must have been even harder in the 1950s, when sex was something that you weren't supposed to talk about in polite company. And yet, I never quite understood the point of Ian McEwan's novel 'On Chesil Beach'. The fact is, the human race has never had a problem, overall, in reproducing itself, whatever Larkin may have said about sex starting in 1963. And the book, it seemed to me, sets up the past as another country, completely different from the world we know today, instead of showing how (for most people) life went on more or less as it does now, albeit masked by different norms. Dominic Cooke's film, with a screenplay by McEwan himself, is a pretty faithful rendition of the novel, but doesn't manage to escape its nature as a carefully constructed, unfortunate but fundamentally minor story, whose anchoring in a generally frigid past obscures rather than illuminates its more universal aspects. Now, if someone was to film 'The Comfort of Strangers' that is a movie I'd sure like to watch.

Saw this at the London Film Festival. Saoirse Ronan and Billy Howle enter the perilous territory of marriage in a slow, sleek coming-of-age story adapted from Ian McEwan's 2007 novel. I found the cinematography to be superb, the play of colours very well done in accordance to the mood. I wish there had been more development near the end, but the film was sufficiently beguiling to give it a 7/10.