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Review: Bright Star
Written and directed by Jane Campion
Starring Abbie Cornish, Ben Whishaw, Paul Schneider, Kerry Fox
Rated: PG
The 19th century Romantic poet John Keats was one of my favourites in my late adolescence. His poetry, laden with lush imagery and emotion, was very well suited to a romantically-minded and ever so slightly melodramatic young person. It was with no little delight, then, that I went off to see Bright Star, Jane Campion's depiction of the love affair between John Keats (Ben Whishaw) and Fanny Brawne (Abbie Cornish).
The film takes place in the last few years of the poet's life, and is told from Brawne's perspective. She is introduced to us as an outspoken young woman, living with her widowed mother and younger siblings in Hampstead. She is not afraid to speak her mind or engage in verbal sparring matches with Charles Armitage Brown (Paul Schneider), a Scottish poet who lives nearby and who never misses an opportunity to mock her.
Through Brown, Brawne meets his best friend John Keats (Ben Whishaw), a young, attractive poet with a mischievous sense of humour but also a strong melancholic streak. Although he sees her as a fashion-obsessed 'minx' and she is unimpressed by his most recent poetic publication, they are intrigued by one another. Touched by her sympathy for his dying brother, Keats agrees to teach Brawne about poetry, and gradually the intrigue turns to affection.
But, as in any good love story, elements conspire against the would-be lovers. Brown is fiercely protective of his close friendship with Keats, and resents Brawne's intrusion, relishing any opportunity he has to keep her at bay. He also jealously guards Keats' poetry, suspicious of Brawne's genuine desire to learn more about it, but also hinting at his own feelings of inferiority in the face of Keats' immense talent. Keats, in turn, recognises that he is dependent upon Brown's financial support. As his infatuation for Brawne grows, Keats despairs that his career as a penniless poet is not one that can support a wife and family.
Despite these obstacles, however, Brawne and Keats grow closer and more deeply in love. At first it seems to be a fast-burning and immature kind of sentiment, as ephemeral as the butterflies Brawne collects in her bedroom. But as the couple begins to be tested by suffering, most notably through Keats' worsening health, they seem to develop a more mature perspective on love, a love that they are forced to recognise cannot last.
Campion has created a real thing of beauty in Bright Star. It is a lovely film to look at, all muted colours and diffused light, playing on many contrasts. The bright outdoor world gives way to the sombre darkness of the indoors. The cheerful colours and handsewn details of Fanny's jackets and coats are startling against Keats' dark, threadbare clothing. In the same way, at first her round-faced healthiness jars against his gaunt paleness.
Cornish and Whishaw carry the film superbly, managing to deftly walk the lines between restraint and passion, between youth and world-weariness, between joy and sorrow. Schneider as the cynical poet Brown provides the acidity needed to cut the sweetness of the lovers' tale.
The richness of Keats' poetry is allowed to shine in several places where excerpts of some of his more famous poems are woven into the script, such as 'Ode to a nightingale', 'La belle dame sans merci', and in a few instances, the 'Bright star' sonnet from which the film takes its title.
The pace of the film is deliberately slow and measured, as if Campion is trying to make her audience pause and allow the moods and ideas of the film coalesce without necessarily reaching any tightly plotted resolution. Campion’s words in Keats' mouth could be describing how her film should be approached:
A poem needs understanding through the senses. The point of diving in a lake is not immediately to swim to the shore, but to be in the lake, to luxuriate in the sensation of water. You do not work the lake out. It is an experience beyond thought. Poetry soothes and emboldens the soul to accept mystery.
Filmgoers who prefer whip-smart repartee and a cracking pace will no doubt be bored, but then it is doubtful they would be lured to this sort of film in the first place. It is worth allowing the beautiful cinematography, wistful music and finely tuned performances to move you, and to relish this glimpse into a brief, bright love, tempered by suffering but only made more precious as a result.
