The ReEducation of Andrew:…or How I Never Learned to Write a Review

Remember, An Education? Of course you do. Care Mulligan’s coming of age in London from Lone Scherfig that I fell deeply for… I’m still deeply rooted in my affection for An Education even if I never mustered up the time to critically review it (not here, not here, not here not even here). It’s nice to see that “education” fever is still in the air though, I’ve been reading more and more reviews of it and the most recent one struck me as well written (though I disagree with so much). Carson of the very intelligent Are the Hills Going to March Off (how have I never heard of this blog?) gave it quite the tongue lashing a few weeks ago that made me give my kneejerk long-ass comment, which immediately reminded me of what I said after just seeing An Education. I have a feeling that it strikes me so much because it seems like something that I would see happening. No I do not live in Twickenham (or England) and I do not attend (and never have attended) a girls’ school or private school, still it struck me as all very natural and more importantly – personal.

I noted that the opening credits before as particularly jaunty and irreverent (remember this post; I never got around to posting my favourite endings, but all in due time). When I watched it a month ago with some friends and my two sisters a friend of mine who had seen snippets of the middle asked me, “Is this the same film?” I guess the opening credits are misleadingly, but I still applaud Scherfig’s choice. There is only one scene in An Education I’d admit to disliking in particular, and that’s the one just after the credits – not that the cello conversation – the residual snippets of Jenny in class. I do love how Carey sits up to answer about Mr. Rochester (I really don’t like Jane Eyre) but it seems too much like hitting us over the head. Do we have to open with Jenny showing up her schoolmates? Incidentally…that was probably me in high school. I did love English Lit. But this isn’t sounding review-like, is it? I know. An Education has that effect on me.

For the record, I’d like to say that I think Cara Seymour is excellent here, as time goes by I’m wondering if she’s my favourite supporting player in the film (including Pike, Molina, Sarsgaard, Cooper, Thompson and Williams). On that note, how much people are in this movie? It seems as if it’s just about Jenny but the characters exist in their own realm, sans Jenny. It’s not a situation where I don’t buy them as realistic. These persons are all real, and I can imagine them before and after Jenny. Ah yes, but I was speaking of Cara Seymour. She has a knack for winsome facial reactions (like mother, like daughter) and even in that first cello scene that’s all Mulligan vs Molina I can’t help watching her. She’s like a Helen who has taken the highroad…and settled down. That single moment of her having some alone time with Jenny where she scrubs the spot is too short, and really An Education is just too short, I wish we had more time with her. Dare I say – sequel? She’s such an obvious mediator; like at Jenny’s “party” where Graham has his fateful exit, (remember Matthew Beard?) she’s just realistic, with that bland looking sponge cake and all. Yet, she’s not particularly meek in the face of her husband. Of course we all balk at Alfred Molina (unless we’re Vianne and opening a Cholaterrie during Lent, but I digress) but even when she’s following his orders Seymour always has that exasperated look on her face that’s mixed with amusement. Maybe it’s because I’m reading it at the moment but her dedication to her husband strikes me as similar to Linda’s faith in the misguided Willy in Death of A Salesman.

We look so good, and he still hasn't mentioned me.

                   

More than a few people have confessed to being less than impressed with Scherfig’s blandness in direction which is a sentiment I can’t help but be puzzled at. I think of the indulgency of Daniels in Precious and wonder why his indulgence is fine because it’s in-your-face. I don’t doubt, though, Scherfig may do well with a light romance (circa 19th century). I’m no fan of overused close-ups, but she thrives when she has all her actors in a room. Like the first table meeting of the three musketeers and Jenny, or both of Graham’s visits to the Mellor house. She knows who to cut to and when, even if we don’t and gets the reactions that are not at all studied. With expression, I of course turn to Carey because she like making faces. Really, I can’t say that Audrey comparisons strike me…I suppose they do have that same pixie look, but when it comes to expressions she reminds me of the other Hepburn. Not in physicality, per se, but in that way that Kate is termed a self-conscious beauty – isn’t Carey the same? Who knows? Perhaps she’s cold and calculating and is just an excellent pretender…but she definitely pulls the wool over my eyes.

My A-Level papers were better than this review

                    

I suppose I must examine that final “prosaic” monologue of A-Level studying, but I have no issues with the choice. Is it really too much to give Scherfig credit, juxtaposing Jenny’s earlier days of reckless abandonment (almost) against the extreme triteness (ostensibly, at least) of studying? Naturally if I take that route I’ll eventually meet up with the roadblock of the film’s contrasting messages. But I don’t find it worrisome (or even evident). Jenny’s obviously going to be learning from her education with David, and not just those pedestrian ones like being careful with men. Is it too much to take her final monologue seriously? Sure, she seems as wide-eyed and tasteless as all those other girls; but she’s had a taste of the other side. And neither is superior to the other, but Jenny knows who she is. As she makes that visit to Mrs. Stubbs and looks around the room with the placid decorations she realises that, perhaps, that’s all she’d ever need. After all, this is the education of Jenny…not Helen.

There… a thousand words and I still haven’t reviewed it (or talked about the excellence of Dominic Cooper). Tut, tut, tut. My writing teacher would balk at this plethora of words with no structure. I guess I’m just unable to review it....It's still an A for me, though.

                  

Get educated yourself…these bloggers actually knew where they were going with their reviews. I do like reading people's archives...

Carson

Jose

Andrew (not me)

The Pretentious Know It All (not me, either)

Matthew L.

RC

Racso

Thomas Gatto

Joel B.

Michael P.

Oscar Nazi

Mad Hatter

Univarn

CS

Alex C.

M. Carter

Performances of the Decade (Female)

I’ve been very against type this awards season. Even for me. I’ll be concluding my year in review picks soon and you can already see they’re different from the usual awards’ pick, and since most people seem to agree that (for the most part) the awards’ picks are the right picks I’m pretty much out on a limb. Still, if there’s one of the main picks I can get completely on board with, it’s this one,

        

#11 Carey Mulligan in An Education (2009)

After my pandering reviews of An Education someone asked why I liked Carey’s performance so much. I couldn’t come up with an answer. She is, after all, on my list of favourite performances this decade…but still…I can’t encapsulate it. I like Meryl’s because she’s subtle, Catherine because she’s fearless, I admire Julia’s tenacity and on and on. But, I can’t pin down my appreciation of Carey’s Jenny down to a particular x factor. If pushed, the biggest compliment I can pay her is that I feel as if I’ve known Jenny for years. Carey’s performance comes forth in the little things, like with the people you know. You don’t think of your friends in terms of good or evil, it’s the little things – and it’s the same with Jenny. It’s like a moment early on: Graham’s appearance at that catastrophic tea party. Scherfig realises the talent on her hand and even at moments that are seemingly inopportune moments the camera focuses on her. When Graham says “I’ll probably take a year off, do a bit of travelling” – the wince on Carey’s face, almost imperceptible, is beautiful moment from hers. Or earlier, as the stupid boys Graham at the Youth Orchestra her withering glance at them is not accidental but not exaggerated

The challenge that Carey is faced with is to balance Jenny’s maturity (scholastically) against her immaturity on the more worldly aspects of life. She is overwhelmed by David. Notice how her face lights up as she meets him (for the second time) on the road. I love how thrown she is when he enquires about supper – “The trouble is, we’ll already have eaten”. I love the juvenility of her line reading hair, regardless of how we perceive David to be (the best of us probably no he’s no good from the inception) Carey sells Jenny’s infatuation with him, and she makes it so fluid that we don’t doubt that this was the same young lady who was just “…I’m going to smoke and listen to Jacques Brel and wear black…” I say it all the time, but I love it when an actor can convince us of the unsaid. When we’re so under their spell that we believe we can hear their thoughts – that’s when the performance becomes convincing for me, and that’s what Carey does.

The pivotal scene opposite Emma Thompson comes up so often in conversations about Carey that the goodness of it has become somewhat incidental – but it isn’t. It’s not that Jenny has suddenly become fearless, but it’s a slow build-up as she realises that Mrs. Walters – even – is not as imposing as she seems. Her reading of “And you’re aware, I suppose, that our lord was Jewish” is slow and deliberate, as if she now realises who she’s dealing with. Of course in a year of so many great performances that other monologue is the one everyone’s remembering, but you know where my allegiances lie. Every time she reaches “there’s no life or colour in it or fun in it.” I pause to think, it’s not just lines but true feelings. Of course her sincerity here only makes the actual end culmination more unfortunate. It’s the reason that I like the film so much. It seems so common from a distance, but it’s not glib but completely sincere. The film is completely Carey’s and even the moments that are not truly hers – like Alfred’s confession – still focus on her. Her flood of tears is as moving as his poignant ‘confession’.

But I’m not saying anything new here, you know that I am smitten with Carey’s Jenny. But what say you? Worthy of a spot in the top 15 or no?

Getting An Education

It only points to my verbosity and general dementedness that I can’t tie down my thoughts in one review. So now, it’s on to Second Part.

            

This year, my first on the blogosphere a number of reviews spoke about the intimacy they felt looking at a particular film, or the personal feeling it gave them. There were the usual suspects – Precious, The Hurt Locker the less likely – Broken Embraces, Brothers. Some films depend on hitting the audience on that emotional level. I’m not sure if An Education depends on this as much as, say Precious. But up until now, it’s I think this is the most personal films I’ve seen of the year.

An Education tells the story of a young girl [Carey Mulligan] in sixties England, Jenny – our heroine. She hopes to read English at Oxford University and seems on her way there, complete with a slightly overbearing father [Alfred Molina]. She happens upon a debonair older man and with his friends she’s introduced to a world of music, art and most of all fun. I suppose ostensibly there would seem to be no large similarities between 1960 London and 2000 Guyana. But there is. Up until a few decades ago this country was filled with the English, so we’ve retained some of their traditions. We have those uniforms in the public school system, the stratified staffing at schools and the Sixth Form education system. So as different as it was it was also strangely similar. There’s always that inadvertent divide when I watch American films about school, a divide that was luckily absent in An Education.

         

Looking at An Education I was surprised at how formidable some technical aspects of the film were. The cinematography is so beauteous. It’s a word that I don’t use often, and then only for period pieces. But it was all shot so wonderfully in such an understated way that I suppose I can understand why more hasn’t been said of it. The set design too is striking. I have no idea what it should look like, but it does look good to me. I’ve never been a gadget person, but I’m damned if I didn’t want David’s car in my yard. The austere of the school, even the quietness of Jenny’s home, all seem so...exquisite? And the costumes? Not just the women, everyone. So lush, so right and so...British.

                   

It’s now been a full day since I saw An Education, and for some reason it’s still on my mind. I realise I just may be gushing like one of Jenny’s schoolgirl friends. Ugh. I’m still thinking about a grade. I could give it a B and it wouldn’t be too little. Or I could give it an A+ and it wouldn’t feel too much. It’s the last day of the year. I’m having a block. Obviously. I’ll be back in an hour with the final conclusions.
     
Other Reviews To Mull Over
The Mad Hatter loves it...
Univarn likes it...
Joe doesn't...
Nathaniel does
Joes does too, I think
    
Link your review below if you did one, and I missed it...

Wanting An Education

I'll be honest. An Education was not my most anticipated film of 2009. I'm usually spot on when it comes to what I'm going to like but my favourite of the year is always a surprise - Atonement, Corpse Bride even The Departed were not my most anticipated of their respective years. Perhaps, that's why I love them so much. Sneaking up on you always helps. The thing is though that's I've wanted to see An Education for some time. Univarn remarked that he was sure I'd love An Education. I suppose I do have my "type" of films...but I didn't think it was that obvious. And I really hadn't thought about An Education fitting into that type.

              

What was it exactly that had me wanting to see this so badly? It couldn't be the reviews. Other than the odd effusive one, reviews were fairly good but unexceptional. However, they all cited Mulligan as a showstopper. And as much as I adored Pride & Prejudice Carey Mulligan was not my main reason, or even the resplendent Rosamund Pike for that matter. Molina I like, but I haven't seen him much. Same goes for Sarsgaard. I have my own relationship with Ms. Thompson. But we all knew that was a cameo. So what was it about me wanting to be "educated"?      

Well I have been. And I feel oddly, calm...for want of a better word even serene. The British can do that to you sometimes. I always wonder if my anxiety about a film bouys the grade. Maybe I will myself to like it, or vice versa. I don't know. Is the round-a-bout way of this post annoying you. Sure I've had An Education but as Jenny says "I feel old, but not very wise." I'll return. Don't be mad, I'll expound soon. But I'll leave you with this shot. Isn't it lovely?