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Edward II (1991)
Jan. 31st, 2012 10:38Edward II. Dir. Derek Jarman, 1991.
Wow. Yes. Wow.
So I should probably mention that I thought this film was directed by the same person who did The Pillow Book until I started to write this review. The slippage is, I think, telling; these two films have a lot in common. I was also persistently reminded of Julie Taymor's Titus, which also takes a bottom-drawer Renaissance drama and makes high art out of it in consummate postmodern style. Ditto the violence, and the random child actor who, at the end, plays a crucial role.
All that being said: TILDA SWINTON, OH MY GOD. She tears out a man's throat with her teeth while wearing haute couture. She is fantastic and amazing and a force of nature. Despite the fact that Edward II's faction are clearly aligned with the forces of gay liberation (they are the forces of gay liberation, actually of the gay rights group Outrage), and Isabella and her lover Mortimer are very much into command and control (Mortimer frequently makes policy decisions during sessions with his dominatrices), I could not help wanting her to win. She's like Jadis in Narnia, except even more so (and in that respect, tellingly, she anticipates Ian McKellen's Richard III). Also there is, randomly, Annie Lennox singing on camera. Also fantastic.
So, yes. I've never read the original Christopher Marlowe play, but it's clear that Jarman cut up bits of it to accentuate the unreasoning hate for Edward II's lover Piers Gaveston. It's not, perhaps, as shocking as it is now to see as many gay sex scenes on camera now as it was then (or is it?), but it's not hard at all to put oneself back into the mentality of the time period, easily accentuated by the stark prison-esque set that is the palace and England simultaneously. Jarman, a lifelong gay rights activist and out artist, filmed this movie while he was slowly dying of AIDS, and it's clear where his sympathies lie--he departs from Marlowe's text by showing the child-king Edward III, wearing his mother's lipstick and earrings, imprisoning not only Mortimer but also Isabella.
I see that in this post I have approximated the method of the filmmaking, which is to fling a bundle of shreds and patches at you, the reader, and trust that you will put things together in some sort of meaningful sequence. I hope I have conveyed that it is a cinematic experience that is deeply unusual and deeply worth having.
Wow. Yes. Wow.
So I should probably mention that I thought this film was directed by the same person who did The Pillow Book until I started to write this review. The slippage is, I think, telling; these two films have a lot in common. I was also persistently reminded of Julie Taymor's Titus, which also takes a bottom-drawer Renaissance drama and makes high art out of it in consummate postmodern style. Ditto the violence, and the random child actor who, at the end, plays a crucial role.
All that being said: TILDA SWINTON, OH MY GOD. She tears out a man's throat with her teeth while wearing haute couture. She is fantastic and amazing and a force of nature. Despite the fact that Edward II's faction are clearly aligned with the forces of gay liberation (they are the forces of gay liberation, actually of the gay rights group Outrage), and Isabella and her lover Mortimer are very much into command and control (Mortimer frequently makes policy decisions during sessions with his dominatrices), I could not help wanting her to win. She's like Jadis in Narnia, except even more so (and in that respect, tellingly, she anticipates Ian McKellen's Richard III). Also there is, randomly, Annie Lennox singing on camera. Also fantastic.
So, yes. I've never read the original Christopher Marlowe play, but it's clear that Jarman cut up bits of it to accentuate the unreasoning hate for Edward II's lover Piers Gaveston. It's not, perhaps, as shocking as it is now to see as many gay sex scenes on camera now as it was then (or is it?), but it's not hard at all to put oneself back into the mentality of the time period, easily accentuated by the stark prison-esque set that is the palace and England simultaneously. Jarman, a lifelong gay rights activist and out artist, filmed this movie while he was slowly dying of AIDS, and it's clear where his sympathies lie--he departs from Marlowe's text by showing the child-king Edward III, wearing his mother's lipstick and earrings, imprisoning not only Mortimer but also Isabella.
I see that in this post I have approximated the method of the filmmaking, which is to fling a bundle of shreds and patches at you, the reader, and trust that you will put things together in some sort of meaningful sequence. I hope I have conveyed that it is a cinematic experience that is deeply unusual and deeply worth having.