Not balm for those who admire Emily Dickinson, and far from being a stupendous celluloid tomb, "A Quiet Passion" is as dreary an entry in film biographies as I've seen since Hilary Swank sank Amelia Earhart.
The principal problem is the dialogue. Dickinson's verse is used in some scenes, and as a voice-over, but not to any particularly evocative effect since her verse, like haiku, is more for contemplation than recitation. And the rest of the dialogue is mostly preposterous. Human beings do not converse like this gang does, where every single comment is quasi-philosophical, and often delivered with tear-filled eyes.
The principal problem is the dialogue. Dickinson's verse is used in some scenes, and as a voice-over, but not to any particularly evocative effect since her verse, like haiku, is more for contemplation than recitation. And the rest of the dialogue is mostly preposterous. Human beings do not converse like this gang does, where every single comment is quasi-philosophical, and often delivered with tear-filled eyes.