A film for the very few. A covertly hilarious parody of normality and ordinary people: elliptical lives and the parallel dialogues of everyday banalities people take for conversation. This is not so much about mental illness as the common illusion of normality: we might all benefit from electro-shock therapy to jolt us out of our delusion of self-importance. At every turn, Buñuel's ostrich seems about to do a walk-on appearance. Thewlis is reliably insightful in his role (Jane, O Jane, you're my cocaine), along with the rest of the brilliant cast who relish in their roles, whereas Hawkins is as insufferable here as she was in Happy-Go-Lucky and Shape of Water. Jane should have been played by an unknown, someone without any screen legacy. The family scenes are spot-on, representing that deranged and unfathomable society which is the British, who are actually often more surreal than portrayed here, though never as delusional as their counterparts across the Pond. This is actually a story of love (and loneliness) that hovers between Ionesco and Pinter. The call-in radio broadcasts provide a sinister running commentary reminiscent of Cocteau's inimitable Orphée: those voices we all hear but deny. Courageous directing by Roberts, consistently creative camerawork and framing, despite the saccharine ending. Bravo. (By the way, hydrangeas are always pointless, and even more so when fake.)
Review of Eternal Beauty
