“Florence Foster Jenkins” is a light, consistently funny and
heartfelt little movie about one woman’s dream to sing Opera. There’s only one
problem: she can’t sing to save her life.
That woman is Florence Foster Jenkins, an aging wealthy
heiress who owns a high-end music club along with her husband/failed actor St.
Clair Bayfield (Hugh Grant). Jenkins loves music and wants to become an Opera
singer; so she hires the very best teacher and brings in a fresh young piano
player Cosme McMoon (Simon Helberg, giving a giggly, fidgety, slightly
effeminate performance that often feels forced and excessive). But limitless
time and money can’t produce the ability to carry a note or a sense of pitch or
rhythm.
So what we’ve got here is an “Emperor’s New Clothes-“esque
situation. Florence can’t sing but Bayfield, McMoon and others keep telling her
she can and she goes on believing she can. When it comes time for a concert at
the club, Bayfield painstakingly selects an audience (including members of the
press) that won’t tell the truth.
The best thing about “Florence Foster Jenkins” is that
Frears and screenwriter Nicholas Martin allow us to laugh at Jenkins’ terrible
singing without laughing at her. Considering
that the movie is about a wealthy white woman pursuing a wild dream while
wrapped in a comforting blanket of forced smiles and “yes” men, the movie isn’t
as cynical or scathing as it could be. It never feels like the film is actively
trying to mock or criticize her and her naiveté. Instead Frears applies a
delicate touch that inspires sympathy on our part.
During her lessons, as she tries oh so hard to sing, you
can’t help but laugh at her screeches and the bewildered people around her who
have to bury their real reactions. And you’re supposed to laugh. At the same
time, the more you get to know her and the more time you spend around her
bubbly infectious personality you can’t help but like her and admire her spirit.
She’s revealed to be a sweet, caring, selfless person who’s simply passionate
about music and wants to share that passion with the world. Her efforts to
support and promote the arts are always apparent.
As usual Streep is magnificent, playing Jenkins with intelligent
foolishness. Like her similarly eloquent, animated performance in “Julie and
Julia” Streep is an effortless comedian but she also mixes in just enough
tenderness and vulnerability to keep Jenkins from morphing into a total
caricature. Grant is also strong; at fifty-six the British actor is still
charming as hell. At first you’re somewhat skeptical of Bayfield and his
motives. Since their relationship is wholly platonic and he’s a struggling
artist himself you wonder if he’s simply using her for selfish reasons. But
when you see all that he does for her and during their quieter, private scenes,
you can feel a genuine sense of affection between them.
Yet, I have to wonder. What would happen if Bayfield, McCoon
and others told her the truth? Would it be really devastating for her? Would
she never recover? What would be the harm in gently giving her honest feedback
instead of letting her believe she’s a great singer, especially when you
consider all the work Bayfield has to do to keep the lie going? Seeing as how
she’s so nice and generous, the silence on the part of her friends and
acquaintances can’t help but feel a little disingenuous at times. These are
fascinating questions/issues that the film never really explores in any caliber.
Hell, there isn’t even a discussion between Bayfield and McMoon about the
matter. It’s a neglected angle that keeps this otherwise solid film from
achieving greatness.
B-
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