Watching ‘The Bridges of Madison County’ (Clint Eastwood, 1995) was like listening to a piece of self indulgent Philip Glass: immediately intriguing, but could have been more effective if it had been edited more thoroughly and reduced by at least a half.
The slow pace of most of the film allowed me to consider, yet again, my problems with Meryl Streep as an actor. Whenever I see her I think to myself, “Isn’t she a wonderful actor!” but I find myself admiring her technique rather than losing myself in the character she is supposed to be playing.
Her character in ‘Bridges’ allowed her the opportunity to show off her amazing proficiency with accents and portray, with the detail which has made her famous, the crushing tedium of totally predictable life in a farming community in Iowa. She is a ‘busy’ actor, forever using ‘business’ to create the person she is supposed to be. Her eyes, face, hand movements, tilt of her head – everything is considered and displayed for our admiration. What a craftsman! What observation! How ‘real’ it all is! At one point in the film a fly, trying for his fifteen minutes of fame, and ignoring the lese majesty involved, landed on Streep’s arm and she shrugged him off in character in a way that had me gasping with admiration!
So why do I always see a professional, accomplished and confident actor and never the farmer’s wife or fashion diva with Streep?
The slow pace of most of the film allowed me to consider, yet again, my problems with Meryl Streep as an actor. Whenever I see her I think to myself, “Isn’t she a wonderful actor!” but I find myself admiring her technique rather than losing myself in the character she is supposed to be playing.
Her character in ‘Bridges’ allowed her the opportunity to show off her amazing proficiency with accents and portray, with the detail which has made her famous, the crushing tedium of totally predictable life in a farming community in Iowa. She is a ‘busy’ actor, forever using ‘business’ to create the person she is supposed to be. Her eyes, face, hand movements, tilt of her head – everything is considered and displayed for our admiration. What a craftsman! What observation! How ‘real’ it all is! At one point in the film a fly, trying for his fifteen minutes of fame, and ignoring the lese majesty involved, landed on Streep’s arm and she shrugged him off in character in a way that had me gasping with admiration!
So why do I always see a professional, accomplished and confident actor and never the farmer’s wife or fashion diva with Streep?
The nearest comparison in acting terms that I can think of is Alex Guinness – another accomplished, professional and immaculately detailed actor. But with Guinness, for me he was Swift in ‘Yahoo’ or Obi-Wan Kenobi or Smiley. He was a joy to watch because he brought the character to life – not the actor.
In ‘Bridges’ I thought that Clint Eastwood produced a remarkable performance in his role and almost made me believe that the instant love affair was believable – but then I’m a sucker for those people who quote Yeats and it knocks my critical appreciation!
The direction of the film was efficient but leisurely to the point of tedium and the ending (with love and respect breaking out all over) sentimental to the point of derision.
Some of the more wordily pretentious parts of the script could only have been salvaged by two competent British actors who could breathe believability into the most banal words – perhaps John Hurt and Judi Dench. Perhaps set the whole thing in Suffolk and have John Hurt taking pictures of groynes for the National Trust! Now that I would like to see!
I am just finishing off reading ‘Stupid White Men’ by Michael Moore and am wondering about the sense of humour of the San Francisco Chronicle which described I as ‘hysterically funny’ – and I thought that we Brits were only divided from the Americans by a shared language!
In ‘Bridges’ I thought that Clint Eastwood produced a remarkable performance in his role and almost made me believe that the instant love affair was believable – but then I’m a sucker for those people who quote Yeats and it knocks my critical appreciation!
The direction of the film was efficient but leisurely to the point of tedium and the ending (with love and respect breaking out all over) sentimental to the point of derision.
Some of the more wordily pretentious parts of the script could only have been salvaged by two competent British actors who could breathe believability into the most banal words – perhaps John Hurt and Judi Dench. Perhaps set the whole thing in Suffolk and have John Hurt taking pictures of groynes for the National Trust! Now that I would like to see!
I am just finishing off reading ‘Stupid White Men’ by Michael Moore and am wondering about the sense of humour of the San Francisco Chronicle which described I as ‘hysterically funny’ – and I thought that we Brits were only divided from the Americans by a shared language!
Tonight to a concert in the Palau of unbelievable popularity: I shall try and get a good seat and wallow in the sheer tunefulness of it all!I am putting my trust in RENFE to get me there.
I always was a trusting soul.
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