Lit from Within

The glittering performance at the heart of a film is usually the one rewarded. It’s what can be called the Anthony Hopkins/Cate Blanchett school of acting in which we are called upon, nay compelled, to laud a great actor at work. Why then do these performances leave one cold? In contrast, some performances are subtle and do not call attention to themselves yet you are certain that you have witnessed a small miracle. The same goes for films.

The subtle, the unfussy, is rarely rewarded. Generally we watch to be dazzled, even if a hollowness lies at the heart of the film or performance.

Two films that I saw last year fall into the unrewarded category. The less flashy of the two is Two Lovers in which a depressive Jewish man is torn between two very different lovers - one a wild, damaged child and the other a warmly sweet Jewish acquaintance. It’s quietly sublime, expert in both setting up emotions and it's Brooklyn locale. And at its heart is an equally quiet and astonishing performance from Joaquin Phoenix. Sure it turns up in critics’ lists here and there but it is hardly an instant recall. Is it the better or the worse for it? It is hard to say. Perhaps it would wilt under the white heat of intense adulation.

Quiet is not a word one would associate with Jane Campion, whose choices as a director are bold. Campion is in fact the glittering centre of her films, her visual stamp so distinctive that no one can mistake it for anything else. Her latest film, Bright Star, based on the last three years of Keats' life, is however a quietly glowing work. And its performances, especially from Ben Whishaw who plays the poet, achieve depth by omitting anything overt. Its period details are lyrical, beautiful but never overwhelm the characters or the story. Bright Star is slow and for its 110 odd minutes, Campion chooses to place you in the slow minutiae of everyday life within which the poet’s work and love flourish. And yet the film is transcendental in its romanticism. Even aspects that could be showier – Abbie Cornish as the flirtatious fashion plate who captured Keats' heart and Campion’s signature visuals – are muted and therefore wondrous. Whilst Campion is always brilliant, even at her most flawed, here a mellow, mature vision has come to fruit. Campion’s film too has thus far been unrewarded except for generally positive reviews. Both Gray’s and Campion’s films are however so subdued, so honest to their directors’ vision that perhaps putting them in an awards race is to drag them down to the commonplace.