1 min read
ByStephen Pollard, Stephen Pollard
So, Mrs-P-to-be suggested we see Atonement, and off we trotted. Despite my remarks on Monday, I went with an open mind. There are few better pleasures than unexpected pleasures, and I hoped this would be one of those.
If only. As I write, the film is still playing at the Phoenix. We, however, are at home having a drink. I felt a sense of torpor almost immediately, brought on by the languid photography, the portentous music, the lingering shots, and the - there's really no other way of putting it - dreadful acting. The characters - caricatures, rather - were uniformly dull.
Early on, Mrs-P-to-be whispered to me: "it's very...beautiful". I wasn't sure if she was being complimentary or pointing out that that is all it was. I found out after about three quarters of an hour that we were on the same wavelength when she said: "It's boring, isn't it?" When I nodded, she asked if I wanted to leave. I asked if she did. "Yes", she replied, as if released from a dreadful burden.
And so here I am, writing this, as the film is still running.
It has to be one of the worst films I have ever seen, given that it takes itself so seriously and so comprehensively fails to achieve any of its intentions.
I have no idea what happened to the characters after we left, and I really couldn't care less - which is, of course, why we left. The whole thing was utterly uninvolving, so we uninvolved ourselves from it.
(It was a wonderful revelation to me a few years ago that one could actually leave a play or a film if it was bad. I used to endure the whole thing, as if obligated to stick it out by having bought a ticket. But who wants to waste one's life watching rubbish? The solution is simple. If it's no good: leave.)
As for Keira Knightley, I just don't get it. She's no more attractive than half the women one sees walking down the high street. And all she seems capable of doing is to pout, in a rather purposeless, vacant stare.
As Clive wondered: why on earth has it had such near-universal raves?