Mrs Dalloway

Like most of Virginia Woolf's literary output, I appreciated the film-version of "Mrs. Dalloway" more than I enjoyed it. There are flashes of blinding beauty in this movie, however, the film's "sum" is not equal to its "parts". Of course, Vanessa Redgrave continues to astound me with her talent. And ---yes, the film is beautifully made and attention to period detail is evident. And --- yes, parts of the story are very heart-rending. Yet.... why does this film satisfy me but not move me? Like a guest at one of Mrs. Dalloway's parties, I am more impressed with the effort that went into the production than the product itself.

Everyone doesn't like everything, so I'm not surprised that some people find the movie of Mrs. Dalloway boring. They probably would find the book boring too. But it's depressing. So they won't agree with some of us who see the novel as one of the great works of the 20th century, and the film as a truly remarkable and beautiful capturing of it. The only touch I regretted was the opening of the film with the Septimus Warren-Smith war scenes. The opening really belongs with Mrs. D. and her first words, "I will buy the flowers myself." After that moment, it's a quiet day but a beautiful and sensitive one.

I enjoyed this movie very much, although I really loved the novel a bit more, but that's always the case it seems. Vanessa Redgrave and Natasha McElhone make a GREAT older/younger version of each other, and Rupert Graves gives a stellar performance as a young man dealing with the impact of war. This is a gently told tale, but it's done very well. Worth a look.

This is a beautiful little film, which portrays the book admirably. When put up against its counterpart in The Hours I think it compares favourably. For sure it is a much smaller film in both stature and actor profiles, but this does not make it worse, in fact quite the contrary.

The English cast do a great job, on this essentially English story, with strong performances all around, notably from the leads from both eras. It is nicely shot, and the script has been well managed, and achievement for a Virginia Woolf novel.

I often find myself trying to pick out flaws in films like this, but the only possible complaint I can think of is the lack of continuity in height ratio between the leads over the two eras, petty some might say, and actually a small price you might expect to pay when you cast the wonderful Vanessa Redgrave.

I can't help feel sorry for those people who don't get this film. If Virginia Woolf isn't your cup of tea fair enough, but to think this and therefore the book is boring can only mean a lack of understanding or appreciation of Woolf's views on the point of life.

In essence when I watched this film it charmed me for an hour and a half, and then when it was finished left me questioning the value of my life, and important decision I had made, and was yet to make, which if you have ever read it is exactly what the book does.

I appreciate this film for its technical quality, as well as its ambition in trying to film a novel that is written in the stream of consciousness style, however it fails overall because of Ms. Redgrave's performance. Her acting destroys the tone of the movie in a extremely jarring way; the contrast between her just-swallowed-a-bottle-of-Prozac happiness and the other plot lines and draws the viewer out of the experience of the film. The novel's tone is much darker and Clarissa's point-of- view much more based on regret, and more in sync with the post-traumatic-stress and depression of Septimus and the ennui and disenfranchisement of her daughter. Her performance wasn't only in the wrong tone, but it was incredibly phony; a viewer should never see acting happening. This is the same gripe I have with Rupert Grave's performance of Septimus; his acting is too stagy and I never truly believed him when shouting "EVANS! EVANS!"

Probably will be (and perhaps should be) the last time a film adaptation is made of this novel.