The first film that came to my mind after seeing Jane Campion's new film "Bright Star" was Darren Aronofsky's "The Wrestler." This association may seem strange, given that the former is a high-toned 19th-century romance, while the latter prominently features a wrestling move known as the "Ram Jam." But the comparison is more apt than you might think. Like Aronofsky, Campion is a director known for iconoclastic, ambitious pieces of work (like "The Piano") who hit a wall of critical scorn (for her oddball erotic thriller "In the Cut"). Just as Aronofsky did with "The Wrestler," Campion responded by making a stripped-down, unpretentious human story anchored by a powerful central performance. Critics are raving - the film was a Palme D'Or nominee at Cannes - and for good reason: "Bright Star" is a sumptuous romance that easily stands with the best of Campion's previous work.
The film tells the true story of the tragic love affair between the great poet John Keats and Fanny Brawne, the daughter of his landlord. Against the wishes of their families and professional colleagues, Keats and Brawne had a torrid love affair, made all the more romantic by the fact that it remained forever unconsummated. The couple's time together was tragically cut short by Keats' death from tuberculosis, but their story passed into legend with the publication of Keats' love letters to Brawne.
"Bright Star" certainly is a film haunted by the specter of death, but it is also full of vibrant life. This is made particularly evident by the character of Brawne. As written by Campion, Brawne is the kind of well-developed female role that is too rarely found on film. She is quick-witted: The first conversations in the film have her ably matching Keats' fellow poet Charles Brown (Paul Schneider) in vicious repartee. She is utterly confident and self-assured, particularly in her flirtatiousness within a repressive social milieu: She asks Keats "Will you be sleeping in my bed?" after finding out that he is renting her former bedroom. She is even depicted as a talented artist in her own right: Her wardrobe is entirely of her own creation, dazzlingly ornate dresses that might qualify as avant-garde even today (she brags to Keats of inventing the "triple-pleated mushroom collar").
It's a spectacularly fleshed-out character, and young Australian actress Abbie Cornish does justice to the part with her equally spectacular performance. Cornish doesn't have many credits to her name - she had a small role in "Stop-Loss" and a few other independent films - but she has a presence that established actresses twice her age might envy. She wonderfully embodies Brawne's sparkling wit and earthly sensuality and also manages to make the character's paradoxical behavior convincing. We are easily able to buy that this sensible businesswoman of sorts embarks on such a foolhardy affair through Cornish's complex performance.
The performance is so good, in fact, that it presents co-star Ben Whishaw, as Keats himself, with a challenge that he isn't quite up to. You might remember Whishaw as the creepy murderer from "Perfume" or as the most rambling of the Bob Dylans from "I'm Not There," and while he has an aptitude for the weird and the obfuscatory, romantic charisma isn't really his strong suit. To be fair, the role requires him mostly to be mild-mannered in a slide towards tuberculosis, but it's easy to imagine another actor bringing more to the role.
That said, Whishaw is lucky enough to be tasked with reading Keats' poetry in the film, and this does a lot to cover up the deficiencies in his performance. Keats' famous love letters to Brawne play a prominent role in the film's script, and the beauty of his words goes a long way toward establishing a sense of burning passion. "I almost wish we were butterflies and lived but three summer days," Whishaw smoothly intones in a voiceover from the film's most powerful sequence. "Three such days with you I could fill with more delight than 50 common years could ever contain."
Campion adds even more romantic heat to the film with her sharp direction, expressing the emotions of her characters through evocative shots of nature. In fact, her film owes as much to the work of Terrence Malick - particularly the rapturous melding of emotional and physical landscapes in "The New World" - as it does to that of Keats. The aforementioned voiceover is wonderfully matched to a pointillist frame of Brawne swooning in a field of grass dotted by purple flowers. Just as striking is a shot of Keats lying in the branches of a dogwood tree after his first kiss with Brawne. Campion is equally adept at conveying visual horror: desolate scenes of a misty forest in winter or a shot of a garden hedge that appears ideal until you notice the leg lying under a bush in the corner of the frame.
Pros Lead actress, Abbie Cornish is incredible; lush visuals.
Cons Ben Whishaw disappoints as Keats.
