Why is it that films based upon “true stories” seem to stir up to much public approval? Do the actual events that form the scenario make the resulting film any more affecting or fulfilling?
Whatever the case, Philomena seems to have captured everyone’s hearts. And while I agree that Stephen Frears is a consummate director, and that his cast is outstanding, this small tale of an Irish woman searching for the lost son she gave away as a baby, simply did not transport me to new levels of sentimental pain.
At the risk of infuriating everybody, let me observe:
Dame Judy Dench—a gifted artisan—does most of her acting with her wrinkles.
Steve Coogan—the film’s writer and producer—almost steals the film from Dench again and again.
The political correctitude of the basic scenario—briskly anti-Catholic, condescending approval of gayness, the remarkable insight that working class people actually have sensitivity, insight, even joy—spreads a pall over the entire film.
Philomena is a film about loss and if not redemption, at least restitution. But it is primarily a meditation on class distinctions, and oddly enough, offers little in the way of insight as to how those distinctions might be ameliorated. A lovely bit of filmmaking, perhaps a vehicle of Dame Judy’s long overdue Oscar. But just that.
Hmmm, as someone who is allergic to manipulative “schmaltzy” films, I thought “Philomena” did not go too far in that direction. (I’m a big Steve Coogan fan and he was very good here). There were several plot details that just seemed too neat (the way Philomena’s daughter met up with Coogan’s character in a restaurant, at which time he instantly agreed to take on the search for Philomena’s lost child; the fact that this seemingly provincial lady happened to have a passport in order to fly off to America at the drop of a hat; and my observation that for someone who’d had a hip replacement she sure didn’t have any difficulty walking up steep steps in the abbey, and strode around in heeled shoes with no limp). Am I being too picky? I suppose any of those things are possible. The photo of her young son walking down the steps from the airplane with his new adoptive parents seemed to exist both in Philomena’s mind and also in reality (a newspaper clipping? She certainly did seem to have been aware of her son’s nascent homosexuality from his earliest days – that seems pretty savvy for those times. For me the strongest moment came when her faith allowed her to forgive the elderly nun whose actions had painfully impacted her entire life. The truth behind the Magdalena laundries is rightfully “anti-Catholic,” in my opinion.