One would hardly expect a film entitled The Jane Austen Bookclub to be particularly offensive. Based on Karen Folwer’s novel of the same name, the title inspires visions of something akin to Becoming Jane. Yet for even the most softhearted fans of Austen or Austen-inspired films (almost a genre unto themselves these days), The Jane Austen Bookclub is an absolute offence to intelligence. Prepare to meet six infuriating bookclub members with the potential to scare anyone away from the literature classics they revere.
After introducing the six central characters, their various predicaments and their relationships to one another (all of which is done in the first ten minutes), there is near to no further character or plot development. The club members simply read one Jane Austen classic after another (with the progression marked in titles so we are reminded of exactly how much is left), and we watch them uncover parallels with Austen’s heroes. Sometimes this is done in a grossly obvious manner (e.g.: “Our world really is but a small English village”), while at other times the connections are barely tenuous and near impossible to spot. The ensemble cast’s acting is consistently unconvincing, though that’s to be expected with dialogue so trite that it often sounds as if it were lifted straight from the pages of the novel, with no concessions made for the switch in medium. In the end, this film does little more than suggest that Austen’s novels must all be banal and boring works, if these are the kind of lives that they reflect. The author must be rolling in her grave.
After introducing the six central characters, their various predicaments and their relationships to one another (all of which is done in the first ten minutes), there is near to no further character or plot development. The club members simply read one Jane Austen classic after another (with the progression marked in titles so we are reminded of exactly how much is left), and we watch them uncover parallels with Austen’s heroes. Sometimes this is done in a grossly obvious manner (e.g.: “Our world really is but a small English village”), while at other times the connections are barely tenuous and near impossible to spot. The ensemble cast’s acting is consistently unconvincing, though that’s to be expected with dialogue so trite that it often sounds as if it were lifted straight from the pages of the novel, with no concessions made for the switch in medium. In the end, this film does little more than suggest that Austen’s novels must all be banal and boring works, if these are the kind of lives that they reflect. The author must be rolling in her grave.
Rating: 3.0
Meanwhile this week, PIAF's Sommerville auditorium presents Empties, a bittersweet comedy from Jan Sverák, one the Czech Republic's most popular and critically acclaimed directors. Collaborating once more with his father Zdenek (who both wrote and stars in this film), Sverák follows up on the themes he began to explore in Kolya (1994) and Obecna Skola (1991). Again, Sverák investigates the themes of maturation, masculinity, growth and cross-generational communication, while simultaneously looking at the way in which the Czech people are coping with shifting societal pressures. We see these shifts through the eyes of weary schoolteacher Josef (played by Zdenek Sverák), who leaves his job in a cloud of frustration after being unable to cope with the ignorance and disrespect of his student. Confined to his apartment with wife Eliska (Daniela Kolarova), Josef lasts barely a week before he takes on a job as a bicycle courier and, when that fails to go according to plan, he becomes a handler at the bottle return point in his local supermarket. There, he seeks further distraction from his lacklustre homelife by engaging with his colleagues and clientele and by desperately seeking a match for his recently divorced daughter.
Unlike in most of Sverák's other films (and indeed in a lot of the more financially reputable comedies to have emerged from Central Europe), this protagonist provides little room for the kind of sympathy required to render the film "touching" or "sweet" or any of the other adjectives required to help a foreign film survive at the international box office. While he may suffer at the hands of his students, Josef is also grumpy, manipulative, selfish and cruel (especially to his wife), and his nightly mental excursions into a train-set sexual fantasy world do little to help the cause. It's certainly difficult to watch Empties without feeling disgrace or disdain towards Josef, and at times this enough to warp the film’s appeal. Simultaneously though, this flawed character is quite compelling viewing, and his relationships with others pose interesting questions about chemistry, love and growing old with another person beside you. In the end, there are some touching moments for those who persist, but for most these will not compensate for the effort involved.
Unlike in most of Sverák's other films (and indeed in a lot of the more financially reputable comedies to have emerged from Central Europe), this protagonist provides little room for the kind of sympathy required to render the film "touching" or "sweet" or any of the other adjectives required to help a foreign film survive at the international box office. While he may suffer at the hands of his students, Josef is also grumpy, manipulative, selfish and cruel (especially to his wife), and his nightly mental excursions into a train-set sexual fantasy world do little to help the cause. It's certainly difficult to watch Empties without feeling disgrace or disdain towards Josef, and at times this enough to warp the film’s appeal. Simultaneously though, this flawed character is quite compelling viewing, and his relationships with others pose interesting questions about chemistry, love and growing old with another person beside you. In the end, there are some touching moments for those who persist, but for most these will not compensate for the effort involved.
Rating: 6.6
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