Nicholas Nickleby
review by
Elias Savada, 27 December 2002
The delicious trimmings found in
this new adaptation of Charles Dickens' first romantic novel arrive
early and stay late, filling nearly every minute of the
over-two-hour oeuvre with a lighthearted glow, some impudent
snickers, and a glorious dose of humankind's liberating ability to
triumph over a Scrooge or two.
How early? How about those
delightful opening credits by Chris Allies, and how often do we
critics harp on such things? Nary much, I presume. Given the red
curtain treatment, à la Baz Luhrmann, the conductor's baton raps
thrice and the curtains are pulled aside by two hands, revealing a
stage of miniature cut-outs -- the cast (in alphabetical order)
responsible for this glorious vision. The technicians receive their
amusing due. Small pieces of sheet music and a school bell atop a
desk (music composed by Rachel Portman); panning down to the floor
we spot a pin cushion and two small pairs of mid 19th-century black
shoes (costume designer Ruth Myers); follow a small ribbon along the
floorboards till it breaks, snapped by a doll-size pair of shears
(Lesley Walker, editor); cut to a small chalk board with a sketch of
the Wheel of Fire -- The Blood Drinker (production designer Eve
Stewart); pull focus to a tiny hanging lamp in which a match ignites
a small flame (Dick Pope, director of photography); and cut to a
small stuffed black bag and gold nuggets on a table (the executive
producers and producers, naturally!). Curtain and lights down
(Written for the Screen and Directed by Douglas McGrath).
How utterly charming!
Most Dickens fans will be curious
if a two-and-a-quarter hour condensation of a 900-plus page book can
work. Yes, just as well as last year's television version with James
D'Arcy (three-and-one-third hours), the still popular 1947
black-and-white adaptation starring Derek Bond (108 minutes), but
probably not so kindly with the first silent version, released 100
years ago, which ran barely ten minutes. The Royal Shakespeare
Company mounted a nearly ten-hour version in the 1980s. Yeeowch!
In McGrath's case, he has realized
that it's not quantity, but quality, that matters. He may have
jettisoned out enough dialogue and characters to fill a few sequels
to the current incarnation, but what he crams in is lean, mean, and
just grand. Aside from the glorious ensemble he has gathered, the
spectacular production values, occasionally comic blocking, and a
fine score all conjure up a wonderful Christmas feast.
After a highly enlightening
introduction to the Nicklebys, wherein dad has been done in by
speculation and the family forced from its quaint Devonshire
cottage, nineteen-year-old Nicholas (Charlie Hunnam), his sister
Kate (Romola Garai), and their despondent mum (Stella Gonet) head to
London on a self-propelled mission of mercy, arriving unwelcome to
the cold home of heartless uncle Ralph (Christopher Plummer), a
curmudgeon perfectly content in abusing his dead brother's family
for bothering him with such pity. First impressions aside (I had a
boss similarly villainous not so many years ago), Nicholas' first
adventure puts him under to the hellish tutelage of one-eyed school
master Wackford Squeers (Jim Broadbent), his viciously sadistic wife
(Juliet Stevenson), who makes Cruella De Vil look like a saint,
their overfed, piglet son (Bruce Cook) and a maliciously spiteful
daughter Fanny (Heather Goldenhersh). Among the downtrodden,
misbegotten, and otherwise deprived boys that are imprisoned at the
horrid Dotheboys boarding school is the crippled Smike (Billy
Elliott's Jamie Bell), a forgotten lad that bears most of the
Squeers' abuse and instantly earns Nicholas' eternal friendship.
And thus Mr. Nickleby and his
friend graduate to the larger world, filled with inner strength and
moral conviction. Their journey begins far from London, unaware that
Ralph Nickleby has some mean-spirited, wagering notions involving
the demure Kate and her uncle's wretched gentlemen friends and
investors, their chief antagonist being the lecherous Sir Mulberry
Hawk (Edward Fox).
Thankfully, life isn't all sad, and
who best to lighten up Nicholas and Smike's road trip than Vincent
Crummles (Nathan Lane), thespian extraordinaire, and his strange and
wondrous entertaining troupe of friends (including Alan Cumming as
Mr. Folair, a neglected performer intent on showing off his Highland
Fling) and family, wherein Dame Edna Everage pops up in a dual role
as Vincent's wife and, under his real name Barry Humphries, as the
over-the-hill, broken-legged actor Mr. Leadville. Without
determining their success, the lads become "actors" and put out the
best holiday ham throughout the countryside.
The film's second half brings
Nicholas back to London to rejoin his extended family and do battle
with his unsentimental uncle and his rich and greedy friends. He
befriends Ned and Charles Cheeryble (Timothy Spall and Gerard
Horan), pleasant variations of Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee, who
quickly employ the young Nickleby at an extremely advantageous
salary, in a job which allows him to court his future wife, Madeline
Bray (The Princess Diaries' Anne Hathaway). Of course,
despite the worst intentions of the dastardly Ralph, vengeful
Squeers, and comrade-in-harm Hawk, evil is put down and goodness
triumphs. Shades of Shakespeare in Love, such a wonderful
fairy tale ending!
Director-writer McGrath, an
occasional actor in several Woody Allen films, tackled Jane Austen
with comic dexterity with Emma (1996), bounces back in his
third directorial outing from the absolutely dreadful Company Man,
one of the worst films of 2000. Adapting the source material with
the wit, whimsy, and passion it deserves, McGrath's cast brings it
to life, and his crew adds depth to the effort, with strong
camerawork and fluid tracking shots, a lovely score, some marvelous
editing and blocking (used to particularly comic effect in a rescue
sequence in which Nicholas stops Squeers from repatriating Smike
back to the Yorkshire doldrums. The period production values add the
necessary flavor, with Ralph Nickleby's home is a blend of doom and
gloom (stuffed birds silently scream from the pins that penetrate
their bodies), even foretelling the villain's ultimate comeuppance
when the camera imprisons him between the bars of several large,
mock birdcages.
The handsome Hunnam, last seen in
Stephen Gaghan's scare piece Abandon but also well remembered
in England for his turn in the original Queer as Folk, is
fine fighting the good fight and gives a good cry when the narrative
calls for it. The decent women roles (Hathaway and Garai) are really
too condensed to register any range. Generally it's the comic
talent, especially Lane and Tom Courtney (where has he been
hiding?), the tragically frail (Bell), and the evil scoundrels
(Plummer, Broadbent, and Stevenson) who register best with the
audience. Courtney portrays the sympathetic Newman Noggs, Ralph
Nickleby's red-nosed manservant caught between a bottle and a hard
place.
In the end, it's sweet revenge,
dignity regained, and a timeless story that makes Nicholas
Nickleby an unheralded must-see film this holiday season. |
Directed
by:
Douglas McGrath
Starring:
Jamie Bell
Jim Broadbent
Tom Courtenay
Alan Cumming
Edward Fox
Romola Garai
Anne Hathaway
Barry Humphries
Charlie Hunnam
Nathan Lane
Christopher Plummer
Timothy Spall
Juliet Stevenson
Written
by:
Douglas McGrath
Charles Dickens
Rated:
PG - Parental
Guidance Suggested.
Some material may
not be appropriate
for children.
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