Into the Woods

In some ways, the time was ripe for Into the Woods to have a film adaptation. In others, it was perhaps a little early. But as only a passing fan of the musical, I was glad this was made: rather as with superhero films, I consider it an alternate universe that doesn’t infringe on the original. And the darker, more complex, longer Sondheim musical is still around, still very popular and still often revived or performed in the amateur musical world – which is where I was first introduced to it.

So why was it both a good time and the wrong time? Well, this is a good time for Sondheim in general. The Sweeney Todd adaptation was a hit, and the man himself is still around to write new music and drum up publicity. There’s a craze for fantasy and most of the component fairy tales that make up Into the Woods have had recent adaptations or reimaginings, from Jack the Giant Slayer to Tangled. And though I’m sure a few decades from now this will seem a bit of a joke, but there are good enough special effects to make the fantasy scenario impressive and epic-looking.

And why was it a bad time? Well, because cinema isn’t yet ready for the adult connotations that Sondheim highlighted. Disney didn’t want Rapunzel to have children and die, so she rides off with her prince and exits the story feeling like an afterthought – never learning her true parentage or who her brother is, never having to question if her love for her prince is actually based on anything substantial, and subject to a very weird moment where most of her hair is cut off and taken by the Baker’s Wife, yet is just about full-length the next morning. Disney didn’t want the Baker’s Wife to explicitly have an affair, so she is (probably) just kissed a lot before blaming it on the influence of the woods and quickly and almost randomly dying – apparently at the expense of one of the best songs. And the initial casting of Red Riding Hood had to be changed because the child’s parents were uncomfortable with the (well-known) sexual connotations of her story – the way the wolf eyes up her flesh and the lines afterwards about having become experienced in new ways. We would have a better film if the musical made it to the screen intact – a musical that after all skewered the idea of love at first sight and happily-ever-after long before every Disney film tried to do the same.

That said, this remains highly enjoyable and has an excellent cast. Meryl Streep is wonderfully capable of the mixture of understated sarcasm and grand gesture the Witch requires, as well as being able to be more glamorous now post-transformation than she could ever manage in Death Becomes Her. Her exit is a little abrupt and odd, though. Johnny Depp’s short cameo is just right for him, hammy and creepy and smug yet very likeable, and Chris Pine occupies a very similar place – utterly contemptible, pathetic and extremely fun to watch all at once. For the first time ever, I did not hate James Corden, and this straightforward role that doesn’t suggest with every line that he thinks he’s utterly hilarious suits him much better than his usual persona. He does the normal, likeable, friendly, ordinary middle-aged man role very well and should stick with it. Emily Blunt is a great mix of forcefulness and sensible understatement, though it’s sad that there isn’t more exploration of what her infidelity means for her marriage. Frances De La Tour appears once again as a giant woman, and Simon Russell Beale appears for a pleasingly serious and heartfelt cameo – though of course his character lacks the impact or considerable twist of the narrator in the musical.

The kids are great, too. Lilla Crawford is a delightfully precocious and somewhat annoying Red Riding Hood, oddly complimented by her American accent, and while he essentially does the exact same performance he did as Gavroche in Les Misérables, Daniel Huttlestone is very cute as Jack and is basically getting to be everything I wish I could’ve been!

In terms of effects, performance, cinematography, costumes, makeups, editing and effects – as well as music, of course – this is an exemplary film. Like many adaptations from the stage it suffers from sagging in the middle where the interval ought to be, but there’s enough action that the pace is soon brisk again. This is a generally rather beautiful film and a fantasy world that’s extremely enjoyable to look into, grim(m) parts and all. I just would rather none of the grimness had to be stripped away, and for the film to remain what the musical was meant to be – a funny but slightly bitter deconstruction, for a real world of adultery, philandering and even pederasty.

The Theory of Everything

This film wasn’t quite what I hoped it was going to be, but it was still an incredibly impressive tour-de-force of acting, delicate filmmaking and romanticised Britishness.

Aiming for biopic as well as Oscar-friendly study of a degenerative disease, the film is a little light on the science and heavy on possibly the strangest love story I’ve ever seen on screen. And while I’m all for something a little different from the average romantic fare, this particularly messy real-life tangle of broken relationships, infidelity and under-developed second partners left me rather uncomfortable – largely because the film attempted to frame it all as rather admirable, romantic and even beautiful with a final platonic reconciliation. When in fact it was a deeply sad study in love not lasting, falling apart and being unable to withstand challenges. I don’t mind a biopic that shows love going deeply wrong, but I found myself rather resenting the attempts to portray a deeply broken relationship as something natural and ultimately healthy – because greater things than the relationship were part of these lovers’ lives – rather unsettling.

But this is after all a biopic about two people who are still alive and will be watching the film, which is bizarre enough. Popular recently, certainly, with the likes of The Queen and The Special Relationship, but those were focused on professional lives, not a deeply personal relationship. And some reviews, presumably based on familiarity with the source material, claim this film warped the real story for the sake of more palatable drama, which for such an odd love story seems the wrong approach. It’s quite well-known that there was a lot of anger and confrontation when the marriage broke down, which wasn’t conveyed here – and it’s not even made clear that Hawking remarries his sultry nurse.

Which is why the film I would have rather seen would have been much more focused on Hawking as a professional, and how his motor neurone disease affected his work as a physicist. The man is after all most famous for his books for a popular audience. The film has a fair crack at explaining the concept of time beginning at the Big Bang, and Hawking radiation, but I’d much rather it at least mentioned the information paradox and Hawking’s eventual rather unconvincing announcement that it can all be explained by parallel universes. On the other hand, I was grateful that Dennis Sciama – played by David Thewlis – was insistent on underpinning the theorizing with mathematics.

I felt quite privileged at some personal connections with this film – and not just because I have an inkling I was in Oliver! with Eddie Redmayne. I saw Stephen Hawking once or twice in Cambridge outside Emmanuel – or was it Gonville and Caius? And it was fun to see Cambridge looking so pretty, even if it did all have to be that accursed St. John’s.

What really has to be admired here, though, is Redmayne’s towering performance. He was excellent in My Week with Marilyn and likeable in Les Misérables, but this is certainly the role that will define him, and guarantees stardom for many, many years. His performance as Hawking had to be perfect, as if the physical impersonation was anything short of precise it could have looked like mockery. His face suits Hawking’s remarkably well, but nonetheless the close study of his facial tics and ailments was both incredibly hard to pull off and also what was admirable. Redmayne embodies the progression of the disease extremely well, including in loss of speech, and never does the impersonation come across as anything but respectful and sympathetic. There is a certain taboo to an able-bodied actor portraying a man disfigured by a disease with such a physical manifestation, but the sympathetic direction and Redmayne’s superb performance make it work.

It of course overshadows everything else, but Redmayne’s bravura performance doesn’t prevent Felicity Jones’ being very impressive. Her stern yet loving performance and the increasing complexity of Jane Hawking’s feelings are portrayed delicately and without melodrama. Funny thinking back to when she played Ethel in the television adaptation of The Worst Witch. I also actually rather liked her bringing God into not only Hawking’s theories, but his everyday life – even if the pay-off felt excessively like the writer felt he was walking on eggshells and Hawking’s views were rather vague.

Awareness of Motor Neurone is higher than it has ever been, thanks to last year’s Ice Bucket Challenge, but I fancy that this film will show more of the severity of the condition and how difficult it makes lives than a thousand celebrities getting soaked. Even if, as we all know, Hawking has triumphantly defied the disease into old age.