Jason Whittle

Sadly I suspect budgetary constraints mean the magical realism of the novel is absent in the art direction. Everything looks a bit ordinary in natural light. Series with this many hours allows the book to be presented without vicious editing, so this is great. But One Hundred Years of Solitude is one of my top 5 books and possibly ranked similarly among critics. It is a huge responsibility to bring this to the screen and it is disappointing to think I may not watch any more episodes.

Imagine just ‘tightening’ the early script by bringing the story closer to history. Opening sequence, the 14 year old Henry V at war in Wales sees the barbarity, including the Welsh women having removed the genitalia of fallen knights on the battlefield. He awakens in a London brothel much as the film began but with the added context of why he began drinking. Second sequence, Henry V is called urgently to his father’s side to battle renegade Hotspur in the North. At a dangerous point in the battle an arrow pierces young Henry’s cheek 6 inches deep, yet he continues to fight ripping the arrow from his face. The months of surgery to remove the arrow head and a return to drinking. The one-on-one duel is not realistic. His father calls him again, dragged from a pub, this time the father has had vivid nightmares because he has killed the Archbishop of Canterbury and boils have appeared on his body which in a few years will, in turn, will kill him. These 3 scenes are historically accurate and yet also lend themselves to a film. They explain the son’s drinking and the origins of his great father’s decline. The rest of the film is superb and lacks for nothing.

Finally a historical drama that bothers to be accurate. Praise the lord.

This is a brave and beautiful film which deserves so much more financial and critical acclaim than it got. But on a deeper level its financial failure is a badge of honour. Artistic bravery is its own silent reward, let the masses be damned!

The dialogue is superb. So many issues tackled in subtle ways. For a film without murders the tension still builds to a very high pitch. I wish there were more films like this, but the box office sadly doesn't reward realism and intelligence.

Great performances and lots of food for thought. I don’t understand why this movie lost money.

While acting is superb, the glorification of an only mildly tarnished Bernstein is unpalatable. It would have been more interesting to include opening scenes of him sleeping with elderly conductors as a young man; having hundreds of one night stands; posing in a jockstrap in his backstage changing room etc; groping teenage boys in his sixties. By only showing 3 male lovers, all beautiful, and hinting at subtle self-worship we don't see the whole man. The conflict between his lavish lifestyle and his articulated socialist views, what we call a 'champagne socialist', was not explored. But much like the biopics of Elton John and Freddie Mercury, its tough to present what selfish unpleasant characters these musical giants often are.

Would have been 5 stars if it wasnt for the lousy finale. With Max Richters music and some great art direction it shines, and with Jason Watkins, Johnathan Price, and Tom Hardy putting their talents on show its a pleasure. Hollywood producers must have muscled in with the last 45 minutes, but the blend of voodoo, corruption, class, and sleeze creates a special world that is great to dive into.

Taikawaititi has been in Hollywood too long, and his quirky humour has drowned in giant dollops of sentimentality. A real shame. He drifts from a funky comedy rapidly into a pitch for a 'it's a beautiful life' styled grab for an oscar, stumbling awkwardly on the steps. Go back to New Zealand and reconnect with your comic roots, you have plenty more good films inside you.

It is only when you know of the extreme budget restraints the director was under that you understand some of the real problems with this piece. Despite that, its a refreshing story which pokes fun at the traditional romantics who look surprisingly dull and silly. This allows us to look with a kinder eye on the scheming characters who, for once, are given centre stage. We gradually understand they are cheerfully walking the tight rope between financial security and sexual pleasure, which in Victorian England was denied most women. They appear strangely brave and truthful. Sir James Martin is simply hilarious and a stand out performance. Just the pause alone when asked 'how do you do' had us cracking up.