Slow, overlong and mostly hard to believe, simple marriage drama, IMO, about a tragic occurrence that happened to the husband 52 years earlier, and 7 years before their marriage, but negatively affecting his wife to the point of continual distraction after she was finally told about it just days short of their 45th anniversary.
Thought the movie an overly obvious and nearly fawning and precious vehicle for Charlotte Rampling. As the wife, she was in nearly every frame, with her many poses done from every possible angle. Tom Courtenay was her husband, who had a long ago lover who died from a mountain glacier fall on a hike with him in Switzerland, and as a result of a new letter regarding something about her, his memory of her came to occupy a part of his mind all these years later, of which his wife came to be neurotically and spitefully jealous. Even as he loved his wife dearly and told her so in tears, she could not leave the jealous thought of the "other woman" behind and move on. (Come on, lady, get a life, an adult life, is what I wanted to tell her many times throughout the film.)
The story was overlong and padded with filler to my distraction, and thus the film was much longer than the story deserved, so simple as it was, with each scene held much longer than was best for full dramatic affect. It actually got boring to see how long so many scenes played that were not that important in telling the story. I am almost 75 years old and those people looked like my parents looked when very old, not like I or my wife look now or any of our friends. Maybe they age earlier in the UK, and that dreary weather every day could just be part of it. Depressing.
Well enough acted by all, just not enough substance or gravitas for a modern feature film. Glad it finally ended, and that ending was abrupt and odd and totally in keeping with a story I did not find satisfying on any believable level. This film may be a critic's darling, as many poor ones are, but it was not a good story well told, in my judgment, and quickly forgettable.
Thought the movie an overly obvious and nearly fawning and precious vehicle for Charlotte Rampling. As the wife, she was in nearly every frame, with her many poses done from every possible angle. Tom Courtenay was her husband, who had a long ago lover who died from a mountain glacier fall on a hike with him in Switzerland, and as a result of a new letter regarding something about her, his memory of her came to occupy a part of his mind all these years later, of which his wife came to be neurotically and spitefully jealous. Even as he loved his wife dearly and told her so in tears, she could not leave the jealous thought of the "other woman" behind and move on. (Come on, lady, get a life, an adult life, is what I wanted to tell her many times throughout the film.)
The story was overlong and padded with filler to my distraction, and thus the film was much longer than the story deserved, so simple as it was, with each scene held much longer than was best for full dramatic affect. It actually got boring to see how long so many scenes played that were not that important in telling the story. I am almost 75 years old and those people looked like my parents looked when very old, not like I or my wife look now or any of our friends. Maybe they age earlier in the UK, and that dreary weather every day could just be part of it. Depressing.
Well enough acted by all, just not enough substance or gravitas for a modern feature film. Glad it finally ended, and that ending was abrupt and odd and totally in keeping with a story I did not find satisfying on any believable level. This film may be a critic's darling, as many poor ones are, but it was not a good story well told, in my judgment, and quickly forgettable.