Ben Whishaw (left) and Matthew Goode share a glass during their brief and fragile romantic interlude in a new, lush adaptation of Evelyn Waugh’s novel ‘Brideshead Revisited.’ (Photo by Nicola Dove/Courtesy of Miramax Films)
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GREG MARZULLO
Friday, July 25, 2008
Looming
over
manicured
lawns
and
gardens
stands
a
grand
mansion,
welcoming
the
curious
with
an
equal
measure
of
nostalgia
and
foreboding
—
Brideshead.
From
the
first
shots
of
the
fabled
home
in
the
film
adaptation
of
Evelyn
Waugh’s
novel
“Brideshead
Revisited,”
it’s
clear
the
house,
like
the
clan
inhabiting
it,
is
a
siren
of
sorts
—
luring
people
to
their
doom
with
some
of
the
most
beautiful
music
ever
heard.
Director
Julian
Jarrold
keeps
this
juxtaposition
of
stifling
gorgeousness
at
the
forefront
of
his
refreshingly
strong
period
piece.
While
there
is
plenty
of
fur
trim,
elaborate
hats,
tiaras
and
Rococo
ornamentation,
opulence
never
threatens
to
overwhelm
the
oppressive
story
of
the
Flyte
family
and
Charles
Ryder,
an
interloper
in
an
overwrought
and
guilt-ridden
world.
Just
starting
his
term
at
Oxford,
Charles
(Matthew
Goode)
comes
from
a
middle-class
family
and
quickly
falls
in
with
the
wrong,
but
glamorous,
crowd
at
school,
helmed
by
the
delightfully
sissified
Sebastian
Flyte
(Ben
Whishaw).
Soon,
the
two
young
men
are
spending
all
their
time
together
in
what
is
clearly
a
romantic
relationship
—
made
much
more
obvious
in
this
film
adaptation
than
in
the
famous
1981
mini
series
or
the
book.
The
pair
even
shares
a
sweet
kiss
over
endless
bottles
of
wine
while
spending
their
days
at
the
family
manse.
However,
nothing
lasts
forever
and
soon
mummy
returns
to
the
homestead.
Played
by
Emma
Thompson,
Lady
Marchmain
is
a
fundamentalist
Catholic,
whose
every
question
is
a
trap.
“What
form
do
your
pleasures
take?”
she
asks
Charles,
lobbing
an
attack
at
the
shame-faced
Sebastian.
The
plot
thickens
when
the
boys
and
Sebastian’s
sister,
Julia
(Hayley
Atwell),
visit
the
family
patriarch
(Michael
Gambon),
who
lives
with
his
mistress
in
Rome.
Once
amongst
the
lush
and
lusty
pleasures
of
Italy,
Charles
succumbs
to
Julia’s
charms,
effectively
ending
his
affair
with
Sebastian
and
helping
the
young
Flyte
down
the
road
to
alcoholism
which
plagues
him
far
into
Morocco
and
a
monastery’s
sick
ward.
Charles
ends
up
carrying
on
his
relationship
with
Julia
(even
after
both
are
married
to
other
people),
but
in
the
end,
Catholicism
wins
the
day,
God
triumphs
over
the
sinner
and
war
overruns
the
continent.
WHILE
THE
script,
written
by
Jeremy
Brock
and
Andrew
Davies,
takes
ample
liberties
with
the
book,
the
changes
propel
the
story
forward
for
the
movie
audience
and
the
age
of
instant
entertainment.
That’s
not
to
say
the
film,
clocking
in
at
two
hours,
gives
short
shrift
to
mood
and
character.
Quite
the
contrary,
each
set
piece
seems
chosen
to
enhance
the
story’s
line
(is
that
Icarus
painted
on
the
ceiling
of
Brideshead’s
entry
hall?),
and
from
Thompson’s
icy
yet
brittle
exterior
to
the
painfully
wistful
performance
of
Whishaw,
each
performance
is
roundly
developed.
With
such
a
strong
foundation,
the
film
can
actually
delve
into
the
thematic
elements
of
Waugh’s
original
story,
including
the
blasting
of
religion’s
stranglehold
on
people’s
choices
and
futures.
Thompson,
as
the
family
matriarch,
embodies
the
worst
impulses
of
the
religious
establishment,
but
she
also
projects
the
woman’s
bewildered
fragility
with
a
faltering
step
and
sloping
lip
when
she
says
of
her
children,
“All
I
ever
wanted
was
to
see
them
safe,
and
all
they
do
is
hate
me.”
For
those
of
us
who
eschew
traditional
Christianity’s
tentacles,
watching
Sebastian
sublimate
his
desires
and
then
punish
himself
with
drink
and
monasticism
(literal
and
otherwise)
is
a
painfully
familiar
journey.
No
matter
that
the
time
period
is
set
before
World
War
II
—
religious
intolerance
for
people
with
unorthodox
sexual
and
romantic
desires
looks
frighteningly
familiar
across
the
ages.
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