Benedict Andrew

Ammonite is a chamber work of beauty on a theme of deep longing. This is a quiet and expressive work where the expressions of the principals provide great intimacy and closeness. The universality of the narrative of two people with a history of loss and loneliness outweighs the nominal biographical basis on Mary Anning and Charlotte Murchison. This is a tale as rich in symbolic layering as the grades of sediment on Lyme Regis and the Jurassic Coast. This film of moments demands and deserves attention. Both Ronan and Winslet impress as masters of quiet expression. A quiet beauty.

This is a challenging piece of historical non-fiction with compelling women at its heart and in its performers; and multiple, sometimes radical, appeals to modern sensibilities. Taken as a work of theatre, there is a great deal to challenge the viewer. That the risks taken have partially backfired in a backlash is less the fault of the artistry at work than a misunderstanding of the times. There are audiences who simply are unable to be challenged critically.

This film is a work of great beauty, integrity and relevance. Updated appropriately in a way that made it sing to the full house with whom I viewed the movie, Gerwig's film is a marvel of composition, creativity and fine work. The cast is uniformly impressive, with Saoirse Ronan eclipsing Hepburn as the Jo March of generations in a work of sublime sensitivity. The players suit and fit their parts remarkably, and behave as any sensitive reader of the source material would want in an update for 2020. The accuracy to period detail appears not only in the appropriate score, sprinkled with well known music from the period, but also in the fineness of the set decoration, costumery and aesthetic. Every frame appears to be a work of art from the era. This adaptation has so few naysayers that it is easy to see that those who find problems only hold a mirror up to their own folly, biases and prejudices. This is a movie for all ages and for the ages. It really shines.