Terence Davies, a director who specializes in period settings, dimly lit interiors and intimate family dramas, seems like the perfect match for his protagonist here, who rarely left the grounds of her family home (the location for the film's exterior scenes) and was known to her Amherst neighbors as "The Myth." Davies has said that Cynthia Nixon was originally cast because of her physical resemblance to the pale, red-haired poet, though her amazing subtlety as an actress and her sharp intelligence can't have done much harm.
To the evident dismay of her fans (see earlier reviews, passim), instead of the sharp-eyed nature poet or the gentle, self-mocking social satirist, Davies gives us Emily the existentialist--uncompromising, irreverent, no fan of Longfellow ("gruel!"), suspicious of the clergy (or even of the Deity Himself), preoccupied with death, bereavement and "eternity." Dickinson mavens will no doubt object to the additions and subtractions in Davies's script. There's lots of Vryling Buffham--except for the foofy name, an invented character who helps young Emily and her sister Vinnie (Jennifer Ehle) fill their days with brittle, "superficial" chatter--not so much of Thomas Wentworth Higginson and other significant figures in her life.
A more serious problem, IMHO, is that Davies's dialogue sounds pretty stagy in these early scenes, like a mashup of Jane Austen fanfic and Oscar Wilde, and even old pros like Nixon and Ehle can seem uncomfortable with their lines. As Emily's adult personality becomes more sharply defined, though, and her craving for solitude and certainty more intense, Davies is entirely in his element, and the second half of the film is totally involving.
Keith Carradine is a good left-field casting choice for the whiskery paterfamilias, Edward Dickinson, and radiant Jennifer Ehle is always welcome. Belgian singer/actress Noémie Schellens makes Mabel Loomis Todd, Emily's brother Austin's scandalous love interest, seem suitably irresistible. (Fact check: though the lovers were carrying on in a room adjoining Emily's, she and Mabel never actually set eyes on each other, or so we're told.) A bracketing scene, in which Austin's wife Susan confesses to Emily that she finds "that particular part of marriage" distasteful, is quite affecting (though also presumably invented).
The most powerful shot in the film is a poetic, purely visual expression of Dickinson's complex attitude toward love and solitude: after she rebuffs a series of visitors (including a newspaper editor who's in the doghouse for adjusting her eccentric punctuation), we watch as she's visited by a phantom lover, a time-lapse blurry apparition that mounts the staircase to seek her out in her bedroom.
To the evident dismay of her fans (see earlier reviews, passim), instead of the sharp-eyed nature poet or the gentle, self-mocking social satirist, Davies gives us Emily the existentialist--uncompromising, irreverent, no fan of Longfellow ("gruel!"), suspicious of the clergy (or even of the Deity Himself), preoccupied with death, bereavement and "eternity." Dickinson mavens will no doubt object to the additions and subtractions in Davies's script. There's lots of Vryling Buffham--except for the foofy name, an invented character who helps young Emily and her sister Vinnie (Jennifer Ehle) fill their days with brittle, "superficial" chatter--not so much of Thomas Wentworth Higginson and other significant figures in her life.
A more serious problem, IMHO, is that Davies's dialogue sounds pretty stagy in these early scenes, like a mashup of Jane Austen fanfic and Oscar Wilde, and even old pros like Nixon and Ehle can seem uncomfortable with their lines. As Emily's adult personality becomes more sharply defined, though, and her craving for solitude and certainty more intense, Davies is entirely in his element, and the second half of the film is totally involving.
Keith Carradine is a good left-field casting choice for the whiskery paterfamilias, Edward Dickinson, and radiant Jennifer Ehle is always welcome. Belgian singer/actress Noémie Schellens makes Mabel Loomis Todd, Emily's brother Austin's scandalous love interest, seem suitably irresistible. (Fact check: though the lovers were carrying on in a room adjoining Emily's, she and Mabel never actually set eyes on each other, or so we're told.) A bracketing scene, in which Austin's wife Susan confesses to Emily that she finds "that particular part of marriage" distasteful, is quite affecting (though also presumably invented).
The most powerful shot in the film is a poetic, purely visual expression of Dickinson's complex attitude toward love and solitude: after she rebuffs a series of visitors (including a newspaper editor who's in the doghouse for adjusting her eccentric punctuation), we watch as she's visited by a phantom lover, a time-lapse blurry apparition that mounts the staircase to seek her out in her bedroom.