Poor little rich old lady. The dvd case says that this film is "hilarious". However I could not detect anything funny about it. True, there were extensive scenes of people laughing at Florence, but I didn't laugh myself. I just felt sorry for her.
There are two kinds of English-speaking actors: British, and American. British actors act. That is to say, like Gary Oldman, Alec Guinness, Peter Sellers, Larry Olivier, they disappear into their roles. American actors don't act. They speak their lines, more or less convincingly, but their personalities, good or bad, stay the same, and are always familiarly recognisable. The exception that proves this rule is Meryl Streep. She can act. She disappears into her role; never more so than in this present instance, but also in many other film parts. Her performance as Florence Foster is both moving and sublime.
Florence's victimisation as a 17 year old, by her despicable first husband, Frank Thornton Jenkins, who was twice her age, totally blighted her future life. Her life nevertheless reminds me of the ABBA song: "it's a rich man's world". The loyal support steadily provided by Bayfield and McMoon would doubtless have been well rewarded.
Florence is shown to be in dedicated pursuit of musical immortality, which, once gained, was to be dramatically followed by death, like Parvulesco said. Five days after her spectacular achievement of a sold-out concert at Carnegie Hall, seating 4,000, Florence Jenkins suffered a heart attack , and died soon afterwards, aged 76. It is extremely difficult to believe that she did not know what she sounded like.
This disturbing film is created by the wonderful director Stephen Frears, who is known for his odd choices in storylines and who debuted with an odd snitch movie, called "the Hit". I would like to give this movie ten stars, but I do find it somewhat melancholic and depressing, and therefore deduct one star.
There are two kinds of English-speaking actors: British, and American. British actors act. That is to say, like Gary Oldman, Alec Guinness, Peter Sellers, Larry Olivier, they disappear into their roles. American actors don't act. They speak their lines, more or less convincingly, but their personalities, good or bad, stay the same, and are always familiarly recognisable. The exception that proves this rule is Meryl Streep. She can act. She disappears into her role; never more so than in this present instance, but also in many other film parts. Her performance as Florence Foster is both moving and sublime.
Florence's victimisation as a 17 year old, by her despicable first husband, Frank Thornton Jenkins, who was twice her age, totally blighted her future life. Her life nevertheless reminds me of the ABBA song: "it's a rich man's world". The loyal support steadily provided by Bayfield and McMoon would doubtless have been well rewarded.
Florence is shown to be in dedicated pursuit of musical immortality, which, once gained, was to be dramatically followed by death, like Parvulesco said. Five days after her spectacular achievement of a sold-out concert at Carnegie Hall, seating 4,000, Florence Jenkins suffered a heart attack , and died soon afterwards, aged 76. It is extremely difficult to believe that she did not know what she sounded like.
This disturbing film is created by the wonderful director Stephen Frears, who is known for his odd choices in storylines and who debuted with an odd snitch movie, called "the Hit". I would like to give this movie ten stars, but I do find it somewhat melancholic and depressing, and therefore deduct one star.