Bright Star

It must be quite frustrating for somebody who invested so much art and cinema know-how into making this film, and I suspect holds a lot of passion and tenderness for the heroes and for their times to read such feedback. I cannot however hide the facts. I liked a lot of things in Jane Campion's last film. Almost each scene is a visual masterpiece in setting, in colors, in placement of the actors, in the angles of the camera. It's a beauty to watch. But one does not come to the movies as he comes to a museum, and even for a visit in a museum two hours of continuous beauty without a break are tiring. The actors are well chosen, they are fresh faces and yet beautiful (Abbie Cornish) and expressive (Ben Whishaw' John Keats), and the film also brings the most adorable red-haired kid actor I have ever seen (the name is Edie Martin). Characters develop, and people speak, and fall in love, and love falls apart, and life falls apart, and there is a lot of poetry in all this, loudly read poetry, but then one does not come to the movies as he comes to a poetry reading. Some action is needed, some suspense is deserved - and this is exactly what 'Bright Star' is lacking in my opinion. We know everything that can and will happen in the film from the start, and the only unknown the film can offer is how fast or how slow the 119 minutes will go. Well, they were quite long for me by the end of the film.

Jane Campion is back to the period movies genre which made her most famous with 'The Piano'. In-between she made a couple of films in other genres ('Holy Smoke', 'In the Cut') which I liked more than the average critic and IMDb viewers opinion. I looked that the situation is reversed with 'Bright Star'.

When watching Jane Campion's affectionate account of the final months of John Keats's brief life I could not but ponder on the precariousness of human existence even at such relatively short time ago as the early years of the nineteenth century. Ahead were those advances in medical science that certainly have enabled this octogenarian to watch several hundred wonderful films rather than a small handful. It is the ephemeral nature of experience that tugs at the heartstrings, a romance with everything going for it, cut short because a cure now available simply was not there. "Bright Star" lovingly conveys the "carpe diem" of the all too brief relationship of the young poet with his very near neighbour, Fanny Brawne. Ben Whishaw and Abbie Cornish instinctively express the emotions of an affair they know to be all too short in a way that reminds that great romantic cinema is far from dead. As if this were not enough, Campion's work is terrific on period detail. A shot very near the beginning depicting a Hampstead village landscape with white sheets of washing flapping in the foreground is breathtakingly beautiful. And this just one of many. There are moments of exquisite tenderness such as the scene where Keats comments on the rosebud complexion of Toots, Fanny's much younger sister. We are never far from the poetry itself which is oft-quoted even to the extent of providing a background to the final credits thus rendering the usual rushed exit from the half lit "dream palace" all but impossible. There is a moment shortly towards the end when Fanny, hearing of Keats's death collapses in a paroxysm of grief. As moving as similar moments in the work of such masters as Satyajit Ray and Hou Hsiao-Hsien, this places Jane Campion's film on the highest level.

I saw this film tonight, and in my eyes, it is a perfect film. Beautifully acted by all involved, (several times during the film I found myself thinking 'Abby Cornish is amazing!", despite not being a huge fan before), and stunningly shot, it contains some of the most beautifully cinematic scenes i have ever seen committed to film. Campion does a wonderful job of communicating Fanny' emotional state through the composition, particularly in one scene where the wind is blowing the curtain in her bedroom. The light and colour are fresh and gorgeous and the costumes and design add to the overall piece without being distracting, which is just what you want from a period piece.

But in the end, it is above all a wonderful story, well told. A deeply romantic tale, the story of Fanny and Keats could easily have become a mawkish, overly sentimental piece. But through her wonderfully naturalistic dialogue, her use of humour and light touch, and her restrained story telling (she never lets a scene go on one line too long) Jane Campion has created a heart wrenching film which I cannot fault. The characters are real and fully rounded, you feel the joys and the pain with them, and where I think she really succeeds is by making their love affair extraordinary and yet at the same time deeply ordinary. It stirred up my own personal experiences of love and loss and you would have to have a heart of stone not to shed a tear at the end. Lovely lovely film, and what cinema should be all about.

With such high hopes for a film, a letdown is always lurking the depths of your mind, but in this case, Campion far exceeded my exceptions. Never could I have predicted the deep, meticulously crafted scenes, led so strongly by Abbie Cornish playing Fanny. The heartwrenching emotion in this movie was unlike any other; there has never been a more real portrayal of the most simplistic yet most common emotions that rule the heart. Campion went far beyond the usual "I am deeply in love; Now I am sad" and truly captured human idiosyncrasy as she delved into the illogical, irrational minds of two young and suddenly in love individuals. At times, it was almost too much to bear due to how intensely palpable the sadness was. To some, certain scenes or moments may have seemed a little longer than usual, but completely necessary is the silence, just as much as the dialogue. This film perfectly embodied how a simple, real, profound story should be told.

If the above were not enough to drive this movie on, the aesthetics were nothing short of spectacular. Each stitch in Fanny's sewing was as beautiful as each scene in a field of lavender or room flooded with butterflies. The magnificent settings, costumes, and natural sunshine pouring into a perfectly decorated room felt not contrived, but simply like a very real dream. As the curtains in Fanny's room got caught in the breeze, it was as if you felt it cooling you down ever so slightly as her content emotion overtook your mind.

Ben Whishaw, too, was superb: perfectly embodying the fragile, wondrous poet that was John Keats, so full of tender emotion. Fanny's younger sister was another beautiful element of this film and really stole the show in her own right with her hilarious and endearing perception of life in general. Each character and each line spoken brought something so special to the story. As much witty humor as there was aching sorrow, this movie is not one to be missed.

Through brilliant, stunning visuals and intelligent, witty dialogue, Jane Campion's Bright Star celebrates the rapture of passionate love. Using many of the Romantic John Keats' own words--captured for posterity in his poems and love letters to Fanny Brawne, his 'sweet Girl'--Campion has weaved together one of the most beautiful films I have ever seen.

Rich 19th-century fabrics and breathtaking English scenery make Bright Star a sensuous pleasure to experience. But these visuals merely reflect the beauty within, the soul of this film: the love affair of Miss Brawne and Mister Keats.

Brawne is passionate about and proud of her fashionable and daring needlework, as is Keats his aspiring albeit more fine-spun poetry, and both share an ardent love of life and a longing for someone with whom to experience it completely. Theirs is the inspiring true story of the rare uniting of equals--of two strong, independent, and intelligent individuals with unique talents and dreams yet deeply matching values and desires.

The emotional, intellectual, and subtly sensual affair between Brawne and Keats is captured wonderfully in Bright Star, owing in part to the portrayal and backdrop of those closest to the lovers in their own lives, such as Keats' coarse but caring friend Charles Brown and Brawne's warm mother and endearing siblings. The obtrusively vulgar Brown serves in stark contrast to the gentlemanly Keats, whose integrity and will Brown deeply admires but cannot quite live up to in his own life, while Brawne's loving family--woven seamlessly into the storyline through their presence in scenes of playfully benevolent games, strolls, and dinner-parties-- serves as foil to the equally loving yet singularly feisty Brawne. Through the meaningful and often-tender dialogue and interactions between these vivid characters, Bright Star is able to match beauty of setting with that of soul, a rare feat in a film...as it is in life.

Now Bright Star has been attacked as sentimental by the modern, cynical skeptic, and if it were the hackneyed story of a princess and a pauper mindlessly frolicking to their "fairytale" ending, his criticism might merit a modicum of respect. But Bright Star is not a fairytale in that empty sense; for the fact is Keats died at the age of 25, and he and Brawne were anything but mindless. So unhappily for the cynic, his venom is ineffectual against this film; for in Bright Star, his normally insidious strain of attack finds its antidote: reality. Bright Star is a *true story* depicting the love affair of two exceptional souls who lived a life (however brief for Keats) of happiness *in this world*. In today's angst-ridden, often gloomy atmosphere of humility and despair--where so many either consciously diffuse or unwittingly (and tragically) breathe in the modern liberal claim of man's depravity (itself merely a mutation of the ancient Christian notion of Original Sin)--the little-known Bright Star shines through in rebellion with pride and exaltation, demanding its viewers resurrect the self-esteem and aspiration they once had as children, and should never have let die as adults.

Although Bright Star is deeply uplifting and truly benevolent, one must be prepared to leave its resplendent world tinged with a real sadness. But this sadness does not--it cannot-- abide if one recalls Keats' own poetic words to Brawne (from an early love letter), which encapsulate the film's essence: passionate love for this wondrous world and one's 'Bright Star' in it...

"...I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days--three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain."