jacquelinekennedy
Joined Sep 2006
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jacquelinekennedy's rating
"Whitechapel" is rather like a Dan Brown novella. What it lacks in actual writing talent, it more than makes up in storyline.
The previous commenter skewered this 3-part ITV crime drama, a modernist re-do of the Jack the Ripper murders, but the high scores (9.0 out of 10 at time of writing) tell a different tale. Those who are watching are clearly enjoying this fast-paced, oddly dark series. I suspect this is a reflection on other lacklustre series offered today, as much as its own qualities, but equally it could be because of its ambitious narrative. It's one of those programmes which charms the viewer despite its flaws.
Rupert Penry-Jones, he of Spooks/Cambridge Spies and son of television grande dame Angela Thorne, leads a cast of unevenly talented actors who have been given the impossible task of updating the Jack the Ripper murders. But it's not just the crime which has been updated, but for once, so has the copper.
Like many "paper cops", who have more education than experience, DI Joseph Chandler (Penry-Jones) seems a bit wet to his hard-bitten colleagues in the force. His Savile Row suits, David Beckham haircuts, fashionably large Tag Heuer Grand Carrera Chronograph Calibre 17 watch (Penry-Jones is a big Tag fan), as well as homeopathic remedies for tension -- a mint pomade for the temples -- scream out metrosexual for these 'lager and crisps' men. It's all too much when he asks them to shower and look more respectable in a suit, not to mention actually read whole books on the Ripper murders, which they reluctantly do.
East Londoner extraordinaire, DI Miles (Philip Davis), especially doesn't like this new state of affairs. It's possible that he sees a future when policemen will be more like Penry-Jones than the rogue-copper-with-a-heart-of-gold version he represents; he constantly refuses to acknowledge the lad may have some good ideas. His colleagues agree, save for one DI Chandler wannabe, played by Sam Stockman. With his off-the-peg suits, and "crapuccinos" (as they are teasingly referred to by others), it seems even the lower orders may desire a more polished style.
The series is never bogged down by details of the old Ripper saga, perhaps due to the eccentric Ripperologist who hovers around the story, played to the hilt by the excellent Steve Pemberton. Could the mastermind of the modern Ripper murders, replicated to the exact detail, be none other than a man whose entire life is dedicated to Jack the Ripper? Or perhaps like an Agatha Christie murder, the obvious is too, well, obvious?
Whitechapel may have any number of flaws, not the least of which are hackneyed character development, seeming like a cross between Prime Suspect, Morse and cult-classic Edge of Darkness, but it packs a very intriguing punch all the same.
The previous commenter skewered this 3-part ITV crime drama, a modernist re-do of the Jack the Ripper murders, but the high scores (9.0 out of 10 at time of writing) tell a different tale. Those who are watching are clearly enjoying this fast-paced, oddly dark series. I suspect this is a reflection on other lacklustre series offered today, as much as its own qualities, but equally it could be because of its ambitious narrative. It's one of those programmes which charms the viewer despite its flaws.
Rupert Penry-Jones, he of Spooks/Cambridge Spies and son of television grande dame Angela Thorne, leads a cast of unevenly talented actors who have been given the impossible task of updating the Jack the Ripper murders. But it's not just the crime which has been updated, but for once, so has the copper.
Like many "paper cops", who have more education than experience, DI Joseph Chandler (Penry-Jones) seems a bit wet to his hard-bitten colleagues in the force. His Savile Row suits, David Beckham haircuts, fashionably large Tag Heuer Grand Carrera Chronograph Calibre 17 watch (Penry-Jones is a big Tag fan), as well as homeopathic remedies for tension -- a mint pomade for the temples -- scream out metrosexual for these 'lager and crisps' men. It's all too much when he asks them to shower and look more respectable in a suit, not to mention actually read whole books on the Ripper murders, which they reluctantly do.
East Londoner extraordinaire, DI Miles (Philip Davis), especially doesn't like this new state of affairs. It's possible that he sees a future when policemen will be more like Penry-Jones than the rogue-copper-with-a-heart-of-gold version he represents; he constantly refuses to acknowledge the lad may have some good ideas. His colleagues agree, save for one DI Chandler wannabe, played by Sam Stockman. With his off-the-peg suits, and "crapuccinos" (as they are teasingly referred to by others), it seems even the lower orders may desire a more polished style.
The series is never bogged down by details of the old Ripper saga, perhaps due to the eccentric Ripperologist who hovers around the story, played to the hilt by the excellent Steve Pemberton. Could the mastermind of the modern Ripper murders, replicated to the exact detail, be none other than a man whose entire life is dedicated to Jack the Ripper? Or perhaps like an Agatha Christie murder, the obvious is too, well, obvious?
Whitechapel may have any number of flaws, not the least of which are hackneyed character development, seeming like a cross between Prime Suspect, Morse and cult-classic Edge of Darkness, but it packs a very intriguing punch all the same.
With these words, moued by that wise witch of a piano teacher, Geraldine McEwan, the plot of the film is set.
Not having read David Leavitt's "Page-Turner" which may contain different keys to the main character, I am hampered by seeing Bishop's Paul Porterfield through the eyes of Ventura Pons.
He's a sacrificial lamb. An initiate to the rites of love. A vessel to be filled.
He's an object.
As it is, his character shows a reluctance in every stage, from the sexual to the professional. Is he really gay? Is he really interested in piano? Is he really that much in love with Paul Rhys' character? The central theme of the film should've been love, and instead it turns out to be something a little more tawdry -- the pursuit of the freshest of meat by all concerned, a virginal character played with wide-eyed neutrality by Bishop.
There are films which show a sensitivity to tackling the necessities of homosexual themes (Will Smith in _Six Degrees of Separation_ comes to mind). I'm not sure if Ventura was aiming this as his introduction to a wider, mostly American audience (hence the accent changes of the British cast), and thus had to rein something in to get that "R" rating, but his gay scenes were laughable. One bare bottom scene after the other.
They were like a bad note in a piano recital, which the audience forgives because they anticipate the whole sweep of the work.
Added to the shrill performance of Juliet Stevenson (playing, what I imagine, is her idea of a provincial American housewife -- cartoonish and unidimensional, with accent to boot), the film only flows when Rhys is present on screen.
He and Paul should've hogged the camera time, not Paul and his mother.
This is a failure of directing, as much as script-writing.
Ventura Pons suffers that typical Spanish director's affectation of indulging himself in films, to the detriment of the storytelling.
He wants to show off his beloved Barcelona, which he does. He wants to show off the maturing of a gay boy, which he does. He wants to show the absence of love in other characters' lives, which he does in the dog and divorce themes. He even wants to show how insipid Americans are said to be abroad, and he does that too.
None of it work.
As one example, Barcelona is not a secondary character, as so often happens in Allenesque fashion in some films. _Food of Love_ could've taken place with equal effectiveness in Granada, or indeed, San Francisco in its entirety.
At every turn this film is tentative.
I want to imagine it's a misreading of cultures, which sometimes works (Visconti and his German mania) but in this case, it truly doesn't.
I could barely believe such accomplished actors as Stevenson, and Corduner were giving such stilted, even amateurish performances. Only McEwan salvaged a little dignity in her scenes, which wasn't difficult since she was the only truly honest person in the piece.
(I also read that she never believed she was good with accents, but that Food of Love and Pure changed her mind. Sorry to say, but her accent was like a tortured Balkan gypsy somehow landed in Glasgow)
I wanted to like this film, as I am passionate about piano. I was willing to be seduced, like a young Bishop.
I couldn't help but to think at the end that Pons had been too much of a vampire with his audience, that need for artists to use others to further their talent, even to the point of leaving you dry at the end.
Should people require a rating, I give it 2 1/2 stars out of 10.
Not having read David Leavitt's "Page-Turner" which may contain different keys to the main character, I am hampered by seeing Bishop's Paul Porterfield through the eyes of Ventura Pons.
He's a sacrificial lamb. An initiate to the rites of love. A vessel to be filled.
He's an object.
As it is, his character shows a reluctance in every stage, from the sexual to the professional. Is he really gay? Is he really interested in piano? Is he really that much in love with Paul Rhys' character? The central theme of the film should've been love, and instead it turns out to be something a little more tawdry -- the pursuit of the freshest of meat by all concerned, a virginal character played with wide-eyed neutrality by Bishop.
There are films which show a sensitivity to tackling the necessities of homosexual themes (Will Smith in _Six Degrees of Separation_ comes to mind). I'm not sure if Ventura was aiming this as his introduction to a wider, mostly American audience (hence the accent changes of the British cast), and thus had to rein something in to get that "R" rating, but his gay scenes were laughable. One bare bottom scene after the other.
They were like a bad note in a piano recital, which the audience forgives because they anticipate the whole sweep of the work.
Added to the shrill performance of Juliet Stevenson (playing, what I imagine, is her idea of a provincial American housewife -- cartoonish and unidimensional, with accent to boot), the film only flows when Rhys is present on screen.
He and Paul should've hogged the camera time, not Paul and his mother.
This is a failure of directing, as much as script-writing.
Ventura Pons suffers that typical Spanish director's affectation of indulging himself in films, to the detriment of the storytelling.
He wants to show off his beloved Barcelona, which he does. He wants to show off the maturing of a gay boy, which he does. He wants to show the absence of love in other characters' lives, which he does in the dog and divorce themes. He even wants to show how insipid Americans are said to be abroad, and he does that too.
None of it work.
As one example, Barcelona is not a secondary character, as so often happens in Allenesque fashion in some films. _Food of Love_ could've taken place with equal effectiveness in Granada, or indeed, San Francisco in its entirety.
At every turn this film is tentative.
I want to imagine it's a misreading of cultures, which sometimes works (Visconti and his German mania) but in this case, it truly doesn't.
I could barely believe such accomplished actors as Stevenson, and Corduner were giving such stilted, even amateurish performances. Only McEwan salvaged a little dignity in her scenes, which wasn't difficult since she was the only truly honest person in the piece.
(I also read that she never believed she was good with accents, but that Food of Love and Pure changed her mind. Sorry to say, but her accent was like a tortured Balkan gypsy somehow landed in Glasgow)
I wanted to like this film, as I am passionate about piano. I was willing to be seduced, like a young Bishop.
I couldn't help but to think at the end that Pons had been too much of a vampire with his audience, that need for artists to use others to further their talent, even to the point of leaving you dry at the end.
Should people require a rating, I give it 2 1/2 stars out of 10.