A MIDWINTER'S TALE: Blu-ray (Castlerock, 1995) Warner Archive
Kenneth Branagh
pours some zestful creative juices into A Midwinter’s Tale (1995), a joyously
obtuse, and oft affecting homage to all creatively frustrated geniuses toiling
in the arts. Only in hindsight, does the picture play as a sort of ‘dry run’
for Branagh’s headier aspirations in bringing his all-star celluloid opus
magnum - Hamlet, made and released one year later. However,
as written by Branagh, there is an autobiographical quality at work within this screwball menagerie,
as Midwinter’s aspiring artiste, Joe Harper, harried, yet consumed to become the next Olivier by staging his ultimate ‘experimental’ Hamlet, was an aspiration shared by Branagh, too struggling to make
ends meet only a few years removed from this pic, but elevated to A-lister status after his catapult to
super-stardom following the international release of Henry V (1989). Consider how some of Branagh’s Hamlet cast pre-surfaces in
A Midwinter’s Tale, Branagh, perhaps, using this movie to audition them for the impending masterpiece. Thus, Joe Harper played by Michael Maloney,
plays the doomed Dane herein (a role Branagh would assume for himself in Hamlet),
casting Maloney as Hamlet’s arch nemesis, Laertes in Hamlet,
while Nicholas Farrell – Midwinter’s Tom Newman, a.k.a. Laertes here, would morph into Hamlet’s best friend, Horatio in Hamlet).
Interesting also to see actor, Richard Briers – properly cured English ham,
Richard Wakefield, playing King Claudius here, as he would appear as Polonius
in Branagh’s Hamlet.
Such comparisons
aside, A Midwinter’s Tale is blessed to have a hand-selected troop of
solid performing British thespians at its helm, especially as Branagh, having also written this movie, appears nowhere in it. So, the marquee-drawing
power of Branagh’s name alone must suffice for North American audiences. It does; though largely because the cast here
is accomplished in ways most American talent appearing on big screens
these days can only guess at play-acting. Anyone with even a light smattering of knowledge
or an affinity for British television and films will be able to pick out their
favorites at a glance from this impressive line-up; starting with Joan Collins as
Joe’s catty agent, Margaretta D'Arcy. Collins began her career in the
mid-fifties as a sex bomb that, arguably, was never entirely to detonate on movie
canvas, in part thanks to bad timing and even more tepid parts that did little
to create an indelible impression with fans. Instead, her legend arose like the
proverbial phoenix, playing uber-bitch in heels, Alexis Morrell/Carrington/Colby/Dexter
on TV’s primetime soap, Dynasty, decades later. Also put to exceptional
good use, actress, Julia Sawalha (most fondly recalled as Saffy on TV’s Absolutely
Fabulous) herein, as Nina Raymond (a.k.a. Ophelia), Joe’s rather myopically-focused, though well-intended love interest; Celia Imrie, whose own storied
career has included many high-profile appearances on stage, screen and
television too numerous to list, as Fadge, Joe’s set and costume designer; the
marvelous and incredibly seasoned, Gerard Horan as boozy bachelor,
Carnforth Greville (whose real name in this movie is Keith Branch), cast as Rosencrantz,
Guildenstern, Horatio, and Barnardo), the superbly ribald, John Sessions as
flamer, Terry Du Bois (cast as Queen Gertrude), and, finally, Jennifer Saunders
(of French and Saunders’ fame) herein, playing bitchy American
producer, Nancy Crawford whom Joe turns down for a multi-picture deal, but who takes an
immediate liking to Nicholas Farrell’s buff and shirtless, Laertes.
After the most
rudimentary main titles, our store opens with Joe Harper, a desperately
downtrodden actor begging his agent, Margaretta D'Arcy to finance his
Christmastime production of Hamlet in his hometown of Hope, Derbyshire with
himself cast in the lead. After some initial cajoling, D’Arcy agrees. Alas, the
auditions draw out a cacophony of odd, impassioned, occasionally deranged and
loveably blunt reprobates, utterly to sour D’Arcy on the whole affair. Undaunted,
Joe casts six actors to fulfill his dream project: kindly, but scattershot, Nina
Raymond; cynical ham, Henry Wakefield, unreservedly brash homosexual, Terry
DuBois; vanity-stricken Tom Newman; boozy Carnforth Greville, and, ex-child
star, Vernon Spatch (Mark Hadfield). Also recruited to the cause, Joe’s sister,
Molly (Hetta Charnley) and a friend, Fadge, a flighty costume and set designer in
charge of resurrecting a derelict cathedral, slated for demolition, into the
stagecraft settings of the play. Despite the skinflint operations – Joe barely
has enough to cover meals and the rental of the property – the actors dig in
and rehearsals begin. Fearing the audience will not turn out to see the play,
Fadge also creates various cardboard figures as substitutes.
From the outset,
Joe has an uphill struggle with his cast. Some fail to get along with the
others. Most are ill-prepared to rise to the occasion in the roles they have
been selected to perform. Carnforth, as example, hits the bottle – hard – and
cannot remember his lines. Tom insists on using outrageous accents. Henry
detests Terry. And Nina's bad eyesight causes her to take a header off the
altar steps, fracturing her skull. At the eleventh hour, Joe and Molly attempt
to juggle the budget to accommodate a greedy landlord who now demands an extra
week’s rent they cannot pay. The cast rally to Joe’s aid, selling off
possessions and giving what they can to extend their time to rehearse and prepare.
Vernon begins to aggressively promote the play with hand-printed flyers and
selling tickets on the streets and at a hotel. Alas, as ‘the play’s the thing’,
and nothing here seems to be working out, several of the cast members suffer a
crisis of conscience. At one point, Tom has a meltdown over Carnforth's flubbing
his dialogue. Joe snaps and suggests everyone simply go home for good. Eventually, cooler heads prevail. However, as
Christmas Eve fast approaches, D’Arcy informs Joe he has been given a rare, and
highly lucrative opportunity by American producer, Nancy Crawford to direct a sci-fi
trilogy. The catch: Joe has to start work on the first installment immediately.
This leaves the play without its Hamlet.
The cast
struggle to reconcile their own feelings about the play and the loss of its
driving force with what would be best for Joe. All except Nina concur Joe should
go off to America to make his reputation and fortunes. And thus, Joe
momentarily departs, leaving Nina frantic and angry. All, however, is not lost.
On opening night, just as Molly is preparing to debut in her brother’s stead as
the infamous Dane, Joe materializes from the crowd. Evidently, he turned
Crawford down. Intrigued by the reasons a nobody like Joe would sacrifice his
one chance to become an international success, Crawford attends the play along
with D’Arcy. Each is pleasantly
surprised when the cast, with Joe playing Hamlet, pull off a daring success
that brings the audience to its feet. The superficial Crawford is drawn to Tom
who has played the duel between Hamlet and Laertes shirtless. She offers him a
role in her sci-fi trilogy. D’Arcy immediately snatches up the opportunity to
become Tom’s agent. Nina and Joe are reconciled while Carnforth is reunited
with his mother (Ann Davies), who insists how proud she is of him. Terry gets
to share a heartfelt moment with his estranged son, Tim (James D. White) whom
Henry managed to get to the theater by lying that his father is dying of cholera.
And thus, all’s well that ends well.
At the crux of A
Midwinter’s Tale is Branagh’s delicious insider’s verve for exposing the mania, joy and chaos that arises backstage when people are brought
together from disparate backgrounds, fervently uniting in their singular desire
to ‘put on a show’ and perhaps, find their own place in and out of the pall of
the spotlight. Borrowing a chapter from Woody Allen, Branagh structures his
story around inserted title cards to illustrate the progression of
the exercise in bringing art to life and vice versa. Like Allen, Branagh also
has made the daring executive decision to shoot A Midwinter’s Tale in B&W - even more of a gamble in 1995, though not unprecedented after the Oscar-winning success of 1993's Schindler's List. While poster art for A Midwinter's Tale declared it as ‘Spinal Tap’ for
Shakespeare lovers, Branagh’s picture is far from a nice and tidy, little comedy
about theater folk bringing the bard to town, or even the toils endured along
that bumpy road to success. Rather, in its ensemble, A Midwinter’s Tale
is more centrally focused on the way artistic endeavor
impacts and enriches the lives of those involved in its fruition. As example, there
is something genuinely affecting and tender about the way the initial
animosity struck between homophobic, Richard and unapologetically flamboyant,
Terry incrementally dissolves after the former discovers the latter is
estranged from his adult son – a situation Richard rectifies by inviting the
son to partake of their Christmas Eve live performance. But perhaps
the greatest tragedy unfurled was at the box office. A Midwinter’s Tale
failed to gel with audiences on both sides of the Atlantic. Despite high praise
from some of cinema’s most astute cultural mandarins, as well as being a competitive entry
at the 52nd Venice International Film Festival, and, winning Branagh
the Golden Osella for Best Director, A Midwinter’s Tale grossed a
disappointing £235,302 in its native Britain and barely $469,571 in the U.S. and
Canada. As a result, it quickly disappeared off movie marquees. In the
interceding decades, A Midwinter’s Tale has acquired a reputation as a
cult classic. But really, it deserves much higher recognition than this.
The Warner
Archive (WAC) releases a stunningly handsome new-to-Blu of A Midwinter’s Tale,
originally under the now defunct ‘Castlerock’ distribution label, and, properly
framed in 1.66:1, showing off Roger Lanser’s exquisitely-lit B&W
cinematography to its very best advantage. Given the film’s scant budget,
production designer, Tim Harvey always gives us something interesting to look
at, while costumer, Caroline Harris makes the most out of some eclectic
fashions that, in part, being so utterly absurd, have not dated a bit in the
intervening decades. It all looks gorgeous here, with deep, rich and enveloping
blacks, pristine whites, proper contrast and a light smattering of film grain
appearing very indigenous to its source. The DTS 2.0 soundtrack is clean,
although some dialogue is indecipherable at lower decibel levels. Extras are
limited to a theatrical trailer. Bottom line: A Midwinter’s Tale is very
much of the ‘little gem’ class in dramedies that a Brit-based studio like
Ealing used to pump out throughout the forties and fifties with great success.
Branagh gilds this lily with solidly crafted performances and an expertly
structured screenplay that effortlessly runs the gamut of emotions from tragic
to comedic in barely 98 minutes of sheer joy for the love of the craft of
acting, and more directly, for doing it all with great finesse and class.
Shakespeare would be so very proud!
FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)
4
VIDEO/AUDIO
5+
EXTRAS
0
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