Deriving from Penelope Fitzgerald's seemingly semi-autobiographical book (she once kept a bookshop in Suffolk), Isabel Coixet's award-showered "The Bookshop" would seem to have a lot going for it. It looks pretty at all times, and has classy performances from Bill Nighy as the slightly mysterious Mr Brundish and Emily Mortimer as our heroine Florence Green. Indeed, when the pair appear together on the beach, an elegantly-dressed and poised Mortimer's perceptibly slow move towards Nighy, before he takes her hand and kisses it - is moving, erotic and right from every point of view, deftly portraying something that goes beyond trivial affection or even love (they hardly know each other, really) in the direction of something really profound and truly sweet. It's a tiny moment, but for me an absolute highlight.
Ironically, another Nighy-Mortimer moment risks absurdity, when she goes to tea with him, they talk about serious matters, and then she politely thanks him for delicious things, having patently not eaten anything at all! Just as the tiny touch between these actors referred to above means so much, so this stupid tiny failed touch takes so much away. Real people in real situations DO NOT do those things, and it hurts to see it portrayed as if they did...
Unfortunately, much of the rest of the film does not quite match up either. If it's working to achieve the adjective "gentle", "melancholy" or "warmly nostalgic" in it's description, it fails somewhat on all counts, as moments of lightness or even pseudo-comedy intersperse with sadness or frustration and meanness, and in the end the piece DOES NOT know what mood it really wants to capture. Dialogue often seems stilted (a few passages even irrelevant), and all the more so when delivered in over-practised and not-quite-authentic accents. Northern Ireland looks great, but it is not Suffolk; and Barcelona is not London.
Sadly, the story is also a problem. Many people don't quite seem to act rationally, and the overall level of meanness (while conceivably authentic for the time and place), gives the film an atmosphere that strays perilously close to the meaningless, not the soulful. "Why did I bother?" MUST be a remark hovering close to the watcher's lips, and that's a shame.
On the plus side, "veteran" of the BBC's "Our Zoo" Honor Kneafsey does VERY well as the somewhat-precocious girl Christine Gipping (ultimately actually the presenter of the whole story - and the ultimate decider of its fate - hence a more critical character than we even imagined). However, Honor was good "at the Zoo" too - and that was back in 2014, so no surprises there. In contrast, Oscar nomination notwithstanding, American (why?) Patricia Clarkson DOES NOT do enough to either please or put off, as her role requires.
Ultimately, the sad-but-true warning is that Brits making a British film are likely to have a slightly surer touch than was on show here, despite the odd successful moment of meaningful beauty...
Ironically, another Nighy-Mortimer moment risks absurdity, when she goes to tea with him, they talk about serious matters, and then she politely thanks him for delicious things, having patently not eaten anything at all! Just as the tiny touch between these actors referred to above means so much, so this stupid tiny failed touch takes so much away. Real people in real situations DO NOT do those things, and it hurts to see it portrayed as if they did...
Unfortunately, much of the rest of the film does not quite match up either. If it's working to achieve the adjective "gentle", "melancholy" or "warmly nostalgic" in it's description, it fails somewhat on all counts, as moments of lightness or even pseudo-comedy intersperse with sadness or frustration and meanness, and in the end the piece DOES NOT know what mood it really wants to capture. Dialogue often seems stilted (a few passages even irrelevant), and all the more so when delivered in over-practised and not-quite-authentic accents. Northern Ireland looks great, but it is not Suffolk; and Barcelona is not London.
Sadly, the story is also a problem. Many people don't quite seem to act rationally, and the overall level of meanness (while conceivably authentic for the time and place), gives the film an atmosphere that strays perilously close to the meaningless, not the soulful. "Why did I bother?" MUST be a remark hovering close to the watcher's lips, and that's a shame.
On the plus side, "veteran" of the BBC's "Our Zoo" Honor Kneafsey does VERY well as the somewhat-precocious girl Christine Gipping (ultimately actually the presenter of the whole story - and the ultimate decider of its fate - hence a more critical character than we even imagined). However, Honor was good "at the Zoo" too - and that was back in 2014, so no surprises there. In contrast, Oscar nomination notwithstanding, American (why?) Patricia Clarkson DOES NOT do enough to either please or put off, as her role requires.
Ultimately, the sad-but-true warning is that Brits making a British film are likely to have a slightly surer touch than was on show here, despite the odd successful moment of meaningful beauty...