The Critic | Review | The Film Blog

London, 1934. The sharp-tongued theater critic of The Daily Chronicle harasses a popular but deeply insecure actress with a barrage of scathing critical reviews. He’s Ian McKellen, she’s Gemma Arterton. Together, they elevate an otherwise mediocre effort. leap year Director Anand Tucker. Those, and a bunch of blatantly nonsensical observations in a script by Patrick Marber, make his long-overdue return to cinema. Where? critic The line boasts strength, however, the broader whole does not have half the enthusiasm and flavour.

Jimmy Erskine is not just a theater critic. Blessed with an eloquent gift for vocabulary, Erskine is a veteran of four decades at the Chronicle and a favorite of its largely right-wing editor. Furthermore, Erskine is also a radical and bold homosexual, when to be so was to be a first-class criminal. Not that it fazes the great writer himself. At least not. In fact, Erskine’s apparent indifference affords her the luxury of living with her lover – and secretary – Tom (Alfred Enoch), while cementing their relationship with regular sex from a park prostitute. Erskine was known to like it ‘rough’.

It is not entirely clear why Erskine showed so much enthusiasm against Arterton’s Nina Land, whose presence on stage guaranteed neither popular praise nor critical criticism. For her part, Nina is only concerned about Erskine’s decision. After all, it was reading his thoughts on the art of theater that first inspired Nina to perform. However, in the here and now, there is no longer any pleasure in such reading for Nina. ‘In the last ten years,’ she says sadly, ‘you have compared me to livestock, sea creatures and an extinct bird.’ This, in the wake of a particularly horrific sodomy, in which Erskine ridiculed Nina as a ‘wet blanket’ with a ‘fat ass’.

It is in this exploration of the relationship between star and critic that Tucker finds his films most compelling. Nina’s desperate need to please intensifies with each new review, but the chronicle’s negativity has little effect on her commercial success and roles flow her way. In consulting Erskine – in itself a bizarre expression of a conversation that rarely happens in real life – Nina learns about the root of her negativity. Apparently, Erskine does not dislike Nina, but he experiences deep disappointment every time she fails to meet his exacting expectations. Woe to those who fall short of Erskine’s image of special little England.

And yet, in examining this conflict, critic Disappoints itself. Very quickly, opened questions are discarded. The understanding here is that actors crave the approval of critics but remaining untouched is the opposite of duality. Why does Jimmy write? Is it pure happiness or revenge for the career he could not maintain. Sadly, pretty quickly, the conversation turns to something much more juicy. This is the remainder of the plot taken from the novel by Anthony Quinn – Curtain Call – on which the film is based. A dying tale of blackmail, deceit and suicide. Marber depicts adventures but pays attention to the sweetest dramas. As the morbid melodies are explored over a number of subdued piano keys, it’s not hard to miss the spiky pattern of the opening third.

Unperturbed, McKellen retains his part in Fizz, squandering the dramatic opportunity to embrace Erskine’s increasingly foul-mouthed tendencies. As Nina increasingly falls into despair, Arterton also flourishes with performative bombast. Tucker hasn’t had much luck capitalizing on the potential of his wide group, with Lesley Manville, Romola Garai and Mark Strong all under-utilised. To that end, he is a two-handed player who transforms into a chamber piece without actually getting hold of either hand.