Movie
Review | The Hours
Reviewed by: Brian
Orndorf
“The Hours” tells a story of longing, desire, regret, choices,
and ultimately, acceptance. It’s a lovingly crafted film, if not
entirely accessible to everyone. I’m not even sure I can fully
praise its mystifying flavors, as the film is far too obtuse for any
defined critique, much like its central figure, the enigmatic Virginia
Woolf.
“The Hours” features three stories intertwined. The first takes
place in the early 1920s, as Virginia Woolf (Nicole Kidman) sits down
to battle her complacent life, and begin work on her defining novel,
“Mrs. Dalloway.” The second story is set in the 1950s, with a
housewife (Julianne Moore) who aches to leave her Donna Reed life, and
becomes consumed with thoughts of suicide after reading “Mrs.
Dalloway.” Story three revolves around Clarissa Vaughn (Meryl Streep),
a lesbian book editor who is spending a similar “Mrs. Dalloway”
day planning a birthday party for her friend and former lover (Ed
Harris), who is dying of AIDS. This forces Clarissa to reexamine her
choices in life, and the way she places other people before her own
needs.
“The Hours” is a tough nut to crack if you aren’t a scholar
of Woolf. Taking three related stories, all dealing with Woolf’s
feminist-tinged, mournful dialogs on life, and weaving them together
to make a thematic whole, “The Hours” is a sorrowful joy. A film
of such dark beauty, regret, and sadness that one might expect rain to
begin falling inside the theater. Its origins are defiantly literary
based, but the emotions can be felt by anyone who has ever made a
wrong or impractical choice.
Directed by Stephen Daldry, “The Hours” takes the director
miles away from his debut, the lyrical “Billy Elliot.” “The
Hours” is stronger work from Daldry, forcing him to tame the unruly
beast found in Michael Cunningham’s Pulitzer Prize winning novel
(adapted here by screenwriter David Hare), on which this film is
based. Daldry’s balancing act is impressive, considering the caliber
of talent at work here, and the general death-by-interpretation
essence of the source material. While not every story can be realized
to its full potential (the film‘s intrinsic downfall), Daldry makes
the pieces fit smoothly, and an excellent film is born.
The cast for “The Hours” is jaw-droppingly impressive: Streep,
Moore, Kidman, Allison Janney, Claire Danes, Ed Harris, Eileen Atkins,
Toni Collette, Stephen Dillane, John C. Reilly, and Miranda Richardson
all contribute something to the story, mostly in small parts. While
Moore and Streep turn in anticipated fine performances, what Kidman
does with her interpretation of Woolf is impressive. Losing herself
under a false nose, and burying her accent in a deep, thick fog of an
English accent, Kidman gets lost in the role. Without any type of
billing in the opening credits, I bet most people wouldn’t even know
it was her. Kidman successfully portrays Woolf’s burgeoning
insanity, coupled with panic-inducing claustrophobia brought on by
complacency, as does Moore and Streep with their respective parts.
It’s good work all around.
What makes these frayed ends of the story tie together with ease is
Phillip Glass’s spellbinding score. A scholar of rhythmic pulses and
instrumental outbursts, Glass’s music for “The Hours” acts as
the bridge for each emotional movement to cross over. It provides safe
passage where a lesser score wouldn’t be able to make the necessary
connections this story needs to make it all work. Glass’s output has
sporadic in recent years, and his work here on “The Hours” reminds
me of just how good a composer he truly is.
Grade: 9/10
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