Judging from the comments on Rotten Tomatoes, no one really liked the film, at least not all that much.
I think perhaps I am not quite critical enough to be a film critic…or at least, I am not in a critical mood when I am watching the movie. I still let the spectacle take me away, and part of that is the spell that good cinematography casts on the viewer; and even the harshest critics agree that the film excels in this regard.
There are interesting contrasts between present day Malibu and the English seaside…but of course, in both places the light is beautiful, and there are plenty of magic hour type shots, where the shafts of sunlight stream through windows, illuminating some things, leaving the rest in darkness. There are a lot of standard tricks: magic hour shots, color corrected so that everything is bathed in sepia, or the blackened Pacific Ocean which Daniel Craig emerges, from having spent his 40 days and 40 nights floating on his back, resolved to return to England for a friend’s funeral.
There are too many gaps. The decision of adolescent Joe to leave came too suddenly. And the return of the prodigal son, as laden as it is, was nothing special either. There was a certain human warmth to this homecoming, but I find it hard to believe that Joe never saw Ruth or Boots for 25 years, while he was off making his fortune in Hollywood.
Turns out that Ruth and Boots were in debt, and here comes rich Hollywood actor to the rescue. Ruth is moved by the gesture, but there is something cheap about the way that scene was handled. You get music over it, and even though the images are still there, i think it detracts from the scene because the actors don’t have to convince us that they are doing a good job with their voices and their faces–the music and the sweeping camerawork inject emotional steroids into the scene, and I dont like that. I refuse to believe that whatever Joe and Ruth shared and was mentioned in that note was that moving that she cried. The only way she could have cried is if those Bryan Ferry lyrics reminded her of how she, Boots, and Joe met.
I wish there was really more about Boots and Joe, because you see them together, and you seem them apparently wanking together, but there isn’t much to it, really. You begin to wonder why Joe would care about Boots that much, sure they were friends and there is nostalgia, but what about the whole being afraid of returning to England bit…the real demons must have been with regard to Evelyn and Jane, the girl that died when a mine washed up on shore. You never really get a sense that there was much of a romance between Ruth and Joe anyway, they never seemed to have fucked, just gone on one date and kissed. I suppose its not incumbent on the filmmakers to go for psychological realism and thus explain every motive away, logically and step by step–however, the premise is set up in such a way that begs more elaboration and exposition than the film gives.
Still, not a bad film altogether.
