I hate to sound like a Philistine, but although I have enjoyed many an indy film that was slow and deep and unusual, I found 'Oscar and Lucinda' such a mish-mash of events, characters and crazy actions that I eventually was left simply shaking my head and wondering what on earth could happen next, while not really caring any more.
I hated Ralph Fiennes as Oscar, wanting to jump into the film and cut his hair or give him a new hat and wardrobe. He plays a kind of holy fool, a sweet man overwhelmed by his own skinny limbs and awkward movements and tendency to have strange, non-epileptic fits. I appreciate the chances Fiennes takes here in playing such a character, but I'm afraid I prefer him as a romantic lead. Watching him in this role was as painful as it would be to watch, say, Brad Pitt play Lenny in "Of Mice and Men"--rather frustrating, and seemingly a waste of talent and good looks.
Lucinda (Cate Blanchette) is a more sympathetic character, a tomboy shortening her skirts for greater freedom in an era of female repression. Still, why on earth would a business woman like Lucinda back the idea of making and transporting a solid glass church for some outback town in Australia, especially after several of her advisers point out that the congregation would surely be burned by the sun through the panes? Apparently, love of Oscar has blinded her to all reality. Or else it is her desperation to gamble that drives her do so despite all reason in this case.
And the gambling! We know that respectable Christians at that time disapproved of gambling; and even today, gambling is perceived of as a dangerous addiction. Yet it still seems strange to see the social stigma Oscar and Lucinda face for their obsession. If these two characters kept losing, say, the rent money or food for their families, the social approbation might be more understandable. But they both win all the time. Besides, neither has a family, Lucinda is already rich, and Oscar gives his winnings to charity, so who is hurt by their betting? Only themselves, it would seem, and only because of Victorian religious mores, which appear to view gambling as some kind of horrid act like murder. In fact, Oscar gets away with murder, but he can't seem to escape being punished for his gambling habit.
This is part of the irony and humor of the film, and irony can be by its nature, very frustrating, especially when tragedy lurks so close at hand at all times. It reminded me of a Thomas Hardy novel, filled as it was with frustrating happenstance and bad choices.
The trip across Australia by the men taking the pieces of the glass church to its destination,seems to be so quick and apparently easy (with only one scene of a wagon mired temporarily by mud, for example, and no incidents of threats from the aboriginals) that we never really get the feeling that this is a very dangerous journey, especially comparing it to movies showing wagon trains crossing America around the same time, with the pioneers constantly in danger of attack by angry Indians. And yet we know that this must have been a rough journey; Gillian Amderson simply doesn't take the time to show us the difficulties.
Yes, the scenery is beautiful, but not amazingly so--or at least, not for anyone who has seen the Lord of the Rings trilogy, shot in New Zealand. To a Canadian, this looks more like British Columbia than Australia, pretty but tame. In other words, viewers are not going to be so thrilled by the scenery that they will forgive the film's strange pace and frustrating character development.
Only in the last few minutes do we get a satisfying sense of the film coming together. By then, it's a little too late.
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I hated Ralph Fiennes as Oscar, wanting to jump into the film and cut his hair or give him a new hat and wardrobe. He plays a kind of holy fool, a sweet man overwhelmed by his own skinny limbs and awkward movements and tendency to have strange, non-epileptic fits. I appreciate the chances Fiennes takes here in playing such a character, but I'm afraid I prefer him as a romantic lead. Watching him in this role was as painful as it would be to watch, say, Brad Pitt play Lenny in "Of Mice and Men"--rather frustrating, and seemingly a waste of talent and good looks.
Lucinda (Cate Blanchette) is a more sympathetic character, a tomboy shortening her skirts for greater freedom in an era of female repression. Still, why on earth would a business woman like Lucinda back the idea of making and transporting a solid glass church for some outback town in Australia, especially after several of her advisers point out that the congregation would surely be burned by the sun through the panes? Apparently, love of Oscar has blinded her to all reality. Or else it is her desperation to gamble that drives her do so despite all reason in this case.
And the gambling! We know that respectable Christians at that time disapproved of gambling; and even today, gambling is perceived of as a dangerous addiction. Yet it still seems strange to see the social stigma Oscar and Lucinda face for their obsession. If these two characters kept losing, say, the rent money or food for their families, the social approbation might be more understandable. But they both win all the time. Besides, neither has a family, Lucinda is already rich, and Oscar gives his winnings to charity, so who is hurt by their betting? Only themselves, it would seem, and only because of Victorian religious mores, which appear to view gambling as some kind of horrid act like murder. In fact, Oscar gets away with murder, but he can't seem to escape being punished for his gambling habit.
This is part of the irony and humor of the film, and irony can be by its nature, very frustrating, especially when tragedy lurks so close at hand at all times. It reminded me of a Thomas Hardy novel, filled as it was with frustrating happenstance and bad choices.
The trip across Australia by the men taking the pieces of the glass church to its destination,seems to be so quick and apparently easy (with only one scene of a wagon mired temporarily by mud, for example, and no incidents of threats from the aboriginals) that we never really get the feeling that this is a very dangerous journey, especially comparing it to movies showing wagon trains crossing America around the same time, with the pioneers constantly in danger of attack by angry Indians. And yet we know that this must have been a rough journey; Gillian Amderson simply doesn't take the time to show us the difficulties.
Yes, the scenery is beautiful, but not amazingly so--or at least, not for anyone who has seen the Lord of the Rings trilogy, shot in New Zealand. To a Canadian, this looks more like British Columbia than Australia, pretty but tame. In other words, viewers are not going to be so thrilled by the scenery that they will forgive the film's strange pace and frustrating character development.
Only in the last few minutes do we get a satisfying sense of the film coming together. By then, it's a little too late.
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