Mr. Turner

A biopic of J M W Turner, starring a host of British talent, directed by our own Mike Leigh? Should be beautiful, elegant, insightful, moving, fun, adventurous.....It is none of the above and a fair bit less. Now, one could argue that a lack of interest in the subject matter will taint your view of a work such as this, but this argument simply does not hold. I saw 'The King's Speech' knowing very little about King George or his issues, and it is fair to say I am hardly a Royalist, but I walked out of that film moved and educated. 'The King's Speech' is also full of a lot of fun, an element in which 'Mr Turner' is supposed to be steeped; I hasten to argue that the 150 minute slog is, aside from a couple of moments of brevity, quite far removed from fun. This would not be such an issue if it WAS anything else, but it is not. For a biopic, it is extremely sparse on bio; we learn very little about the man's work and we do not get inside his head or heart whatsoever. We are as a bemused onlooker, trying to fathom what it is exactly we should be caring about. Mr. Turner may have been a difficult persona, not well liked, perhaps, and indeed an audience do not have to LIKE the central character of such a story; they do, however, have to feel they know or care about them one way or another. Leigh is famed for his working with actors on an improvisational level a lot of the time. Whilst I acknowledge that good things can come out of this technique, it must be called into question when it clearly results in something as rambling and messy as 'Mr. Turner'; the film almost literally has no real direction to speak of. There is no questioning the handsome mounting of the film; many a frame is itself quite a painting. Nor is there ANY question as to the zest with which the cast throw themselves into their performances. Lead by an Oscar courting Timothy Spall (who spent two years learning to paint for no reason that is obvious in the final product), everybody does exactly what is required of them. Any review of this film should certainly praise the turn of Dorothy Atkinson, most notable for her British television work, who rather astonishingly steals the frame every time she is in it (yes, even from Spall); this is all the more impressive when you consider she is given almost nothing to do except look forlorn and increasingly sick. Of course, with an almost complete lack of context or narrative flow, many moments which should carry dramatic or emotional weight simply come off as, at best empty, and at worst, as in at least one example, a little bizarre! Why? The answers are numerous: The screenplay seems as uninterested in what is going on as we become, the film appears to have been cut by somebody drunk on sleep who forgot how to edit, and the score doesn't belong to the film for which it was composed. There is a scene in which Turner's audience make heartless, thoughtless comments about how the artist is going blind and has lost his touch; whilst I am not heartless, I did find myself thinking this echoed my feeling about Mr Leigh. I can foresee a few award nominations here, not least because the Academy do like a good English epic, but aside from cinematography and notable performances, they won't have been earned, and any critic saying as much probably dropped off during the screening and is now covering their own arse. In summary, a disappointing mess of a film, which probably tests even the patience of those with vested interest in the topic.

I'm hardly the target audience for this film. All I knew about Turner was that he engaged in screwing large dollops of paint onto canvas, mostly sombre in tone and which may, at a stretch, have resembled a sea or an ocean and upon which there may have been a ship, the kind of 'art' that I wouldn't cross the street to see. But fair dos; no one was actually asking me to cross the street to see them so that I was free to cross several streets to see a Breughel, Canaletto, or any other artist who was not ashamed to share with the viewer the object)s) he was actually depicting. I knew about Mike Leigh 1) he made at least one excellent film entitled Secrets and Lies which I enjoyed immensely and watched more than once, 2) like Preston Sturges, Alain Resnais etc he has what amounts to a repertory company, actors with whom he works again and again, 3) that he shamelessly stole the story of Vera Drake from a Claude Chabrol film with neither acknowledgment nor apology and 4) he is not averse to nepotism on the Brian Forbes scale, having employed his ex-wife Alison Steadman and current partner Marion Bailey in several projects ( the positive in this is that unlike Nanette Newman Ms. Steadman and Bailey can actually act). I also knew Timothy Spall as a fine actor who has never, to my knowledge, given even a mediocre performance let alone a bad one and on the strength of this plus the suspicion that it might just be a tad overrated, I ponied up at the box office for a basinfull of Mr. Turner. What I found was a reasonably interesting movie about a man who lived in the 18th and 19th centuries and appeared to be something of a gargoyle who communicated largely via grunts and appeared to be a respected artist - at least he was a member of the Royal Academy. We shared his company for some two and a half hours and that was that.

Mike Leigh has always been a detailed and passionate filmmaker. "Secrets & Lies," "Vera Drake," and "Another Year" are among the best of his career. When his newest venture "Mr. Turner" premiered at the Cannes Film Festival, the word suggested he may have hit a new high. Sadly, this is his most dry and monotonous effort he's executed. While his visual take on the life of J.M.W. Turner's is among his most ambitious attempts, thanks to Cinematographer Dick Pope, outside of a few key scenes and good performances, the film lays lifeless like a PBS special on a Sunday afternoon. The movie chronicles the life of British painter J.M.W. Turner during his exploits with a barrage of different women including his housekeeper, ex-wife, and his landlady. When his father dies, his art and life are profoundly affected. Mike Leigh is intricate in his telling of Mr. Turner. His attention to detail is exquisite. Production Designer Suzie Davies, along with Set Decorator Charlotte Watts, construct an alluring atmosphere of time and history. Costume Designer Jacqueline Durran knits some dazzling and angelic cloth for all the actors. DP Dick Pope manifests a lens that resembles that of an authentic Turner painting. Bright colors, gorgeous sunsets/sunrises, and framing of certain scenes will make you take notice. Composer Gary Yershon invokes the spirit with his palpable music that elevates the bone dry material. Timothy Spall has been a marvelous character actor for decades. Sprinkling his charisma in films like "Sweeney Todd" and "Topsy Turvy" have provided him with stunning reasons to be able to helm his own picture. I just didn't see what the big deal was about this time around. Where he physically gets into his role, I've never seen him more stiff and unnatural in his line deliveries. He inflects Turner with mannerisms and beats that entirely distract from what's going on. His constant growl and snarl makes him more like Danny DeVito as "The Penguin" than a 18th century painter. While he does have some satisfying moments, Spall doesn't offer enough to pull you through the story. The high points of the film are the three exceptional turns by the female characters. Beginning with the talented Dorothy Atkinson as Hannah Danby, Turner's housekeeper, she layers a broken woman with ravishing resolve. She says so little yet so much with our own expressions. The elegant Marion Bailey evokes a performance you'd see from a veteran actress like Kathy Bates. Her magnetism adds a sensitivity that lacks throughout and ultimately captures the viewer's attention every time she's on screen. The glittering and scene- stealing Ruth Sheen embezzles every ounce of comical and emotional currency in her brief scenes. I prayed for more of her. As Turner's adorable father, Paul Jesson makes the most of his screen time as does Lesley Manville. Conclusively "Mr. Turner" has technical high points that will hypnotize the most avid movie lover. For the casual movie-goer, there is little to latch onto. At over two and a half hours, you'll be looking at your watch, waiting for an end, or a mere emotional climax, that will wake you back up. Wistfully, that moment will never come. There are moments of laughter, as Spall grunts and moans more than a dozen times, and there's history to revere at, with historical characters you may or may not know. I was fatigued and uninterested by credits roll. Judging on the reception from other critics that have seen it, this may be a vocal minority opinion about Leigh's work. "Mr. Turner" is a rare miss for Mike Leigh.

Every year, there is at least one movie that becomes the "Emperor's New Clothes" of the Oscars. Critics love it, the Academy loves it, and then you go watch it and think, "What is this garbage?" I think this year Mr. Turner will be that movie. Why would a filmmaker think we would want to spend over two hours in a theater and not show us anything? If you ever watched the Harry Potter movies and thought, "I'd love to see that rat who turned human grunt for over 2 hours," then this is the movie for you. I understand that in reality life can sometimes seem like a series of unconnected, uninteresting events, and filming something like that might be realistic, but it doesn't make it good.

I normally like Mike Leighs films and "Another Year" was a very good movie I saw. Unfortunately I was disappointed by Mr Turner. For a two hour movie there was not enough story line. The characters were poorly developed. When Turner returned to his father, I had a hard time believing it because the actors age made that rather unbelievable. There were nice moments and beautiful scenery in the film, but awfully redundant. Also, the manners of Mr Turner never changed, no character development. I really longed to learn more about Turners relationship with woomen, customers and peer artists through the film. The film basically showed, Turner lived, painted and died. Only a few scenes allowed us to get an idea about his working process. I also was left puzzled to find an explanation for why he inherited most of his paintings to the Nation even after learning that the future queen hated one of his paintings. At the end I did not learn much about Turner.

First: if you think the film-event of the year is the latest James Bond, then, obviously you should not go and see this film. (There are so many reviewers here with the opinion that this is a boring, plot less film that this seems to be something needing to be pointed out.) In fact, what we have here is a film with much humour, acted out in scenes and in somewhat appropriately arcane dialogue. There is drama and touching depictions of the human condition. And as for plot, we are given some engaging beautiful scenes from the life of Mr. Turner, as indeed we would have learnt to expect from Mr.Mike Leigh. Personally, if I had to name a favourite Mike Leigh film, it would have been All Or Nothing, but now, after experiencing this rich tapestry of depth, history and beauty, I have to conclude that the film Mr.Turner is so far, for all involved in this project of collaboration, a most profound crowning achievement. Take part of it with open eyes, ears, hearts and minds.

I don't know how anyone sat through all two and a half hours of this at one go in the theater. It took me four sessions to get through it all. It is a series of largely unconnected scenes, most very short. There is no arc. Turner finally dies, but you don't feel that you know much about him. Nor do you care. I don't expect a feature film to be a documentary. Hamlet, after all, evidently tells us very little about the real Prince of Denmark of that name. But I do expect a feature film to develop its characters, make us come to understand them, and perhaps even care about them, or care about something. This movie did not do that for me at all. And that was very disappointing, as I really love Turner's paintings. There are some beautiful, if very short, scenes of gorgeous English countryside, but nothing comes of them. There are lots of scenes that make no sense by themselves. The young Ruskin, for example, comes off as a pretentious fop, but if you don't know it from other sources you would never know from this movie that that young fop would become one of the most influential writers on art for the next century, both in England and in France. We see Constable, and Turner's addition to one of his canvases, but the movie gives us no idea who Constable is, whether he was any different from the many other painters we see in that scene, etc. Just a lot of names. If a movie is going to introduce historical figures, then it should in fact introduce them. It's not sufficient to just run them by us. In short, I was very disappointed by this movie. A good editor might make something of it by cutting it down an hour and filming some transitions, but I don't know that it would be worth the effort.

The only thing wrong with this movie was that it had actors in it. Had this been shown without them, we would be treated to some beautifully arranged scenes and scenery. As it is, however, we see the rodent-like Timothy Spall grunting lifelessly along with no particular purpose for 2.5 hours. Even when he speaks, his dialect is so incomprehensible that the Americans I watched it with thought he was speaking Dutch. Indeed, if you are American, you will most definitely need English subtitles. But then again, the characters really had nothing important to say anyway, so why bother. It is one of those movies that you know the main character is eventually going to die, and you hope it happens as soon as possible, preferably, before you do. Mike Leigh has made some great films, but this certainly isn't one of them. The problem for me is that Turner is one of my favorite artists. I had hoped to get some insights into his character. What I got were vignettes: short, loosely connected historic anecdotes pasted clumsily together in a hopeless effort to make a film. I really had little idea of what motivated Turner or why any women would have the least interest in him. So if you want to spend 2.5 hours looking at some beautifully reconstructed scenes depicting life in the early 19th Century and see some of Turner's works, this might be for you. However, if you want to watch a movie, you'll have to go somewhere else.

I like art, but i am in no way an art enthusiast. I am familiar with the artist J.M.W Turner, but I have no clue what kind of person he was and haven't ever had any intention in the past of educating myself on him. It is maybe those reasons which left me sitting there in a heap by the end of the film. It was so boring. So incredibly boring. As i said, i would completely understand if someone who was fascinated by the subject found the film enjoyable. But if you're like me, if you have sat down, with your mind a blank canvas and ready to let the film paint knowledge of Mr Tuner; then you are in for a long 2 1/2 hours. It takes forever. Apart from some stunning locations a few moments of laughter (very few) there is nothing. It is lackluster, and instead of witnessing the story of a genius and feeling inspired. I was left watching the movie equivalent of paint drying. Did i fall asleep? No of course not, how could I? With a loud grunt, or a feverish cough, or even the worst crying scene of all time. There was no chance of drifting off because grunting and coughing and mumbling is the dialogue for this film. I get he was miserable, but the grunting was so excruciating. If i shut my eyes, it was like Beavis and Butthead where there. If i opened them it was Chris Griffin....i wish it was Chris Griffin, he would have at least made me laugh. The thing is, you can make a film about anything. Anything. But it has to have a point, it has to leave you feeling something. But Mr Turner doesn't. I have never been so bored in all my life. Maybe i should've left, yes. But i thought something would happen. That his character would evolve, or the film would inject some life, but it didn't; it was the same brush stroke throughout. I doesn't matter if you are making a film about a artistic genius, it doesn't matter if he inspired millions. If the man was a boring, miserable old sod and his life followed in his footsteps, then it will not be a very good film....unless of course you are interested in the man. I appreciate the acting, you could tell Timothy Spall really threw himself into the role. Probably had a sore throat for weeks. But it is quite simply monotonous.

No need for me to repeat what others have more eloquently expressed (Martin Bradley's review in particular), but this is a rare work of cinematic brilliance, profound, moving and truly original. True, it is not for everyone, and, yes, it has no conventional linear plot, but no story? The story is embedded within each of the marvelous vignettes, if one has but eyes to see, and the patience to pull them all together. And they do pull together by the end to present before us the multi- faceted story of a richly complex and conflicted human life. But there are other stories as well, in particular the women in Mr. Turner's life, most poignant of all the story of his long suffering housekeeper. Alas, many on this review site lack such eyes, and I'm saddened by that fact and what it reveals about our contemporary cultural standards. Ignore the naysayers, this is a masterpiece of profound humanity and insight that deserves multiple viewings. Personally, I was mesmerized by the film from beginning to end and will give it a second viewing tomorrow. And I ain't no film critic with high literary pretensions, nor do I know anything about art. Three quarters of the way through the film, there is a scene with Queen Victoria viewing some of Turner's landscapes and sputtering her disapproval with high indignation. Behind her are a number of cackling philistines, twittering and giggling their disapproval as well. How ironic, when one considers the treatment of the film being meted out by some reviewers on IMDb. In 1956, Samuel Beckett's play, Waiting for Godot premiered at the Théâtre de Babylone, Paris, and confounded the critics of the time. It was lambasted for defying the traditional conventions of drama, for having no plot, no recognizable beginning, middle and end, and for being utterly boring. Yet today it is justly recognized as one of the masterpieces of modern drama. Mike Leigh's film may very well be the finest cinematic treatment of a great artist ever displayed on celluloid. "Those who have eyes to see, let them see."