When the credits rolled
at the end of Testament of Youth, there was a palpable
atmosphere in Screen 2 of the Palace Verona cinema in Sydney. It is a
sure sign of an effective – and affective – film when the
audience takes a moment to reflect on what they have just watched,
instead of trampling over spilt popcorn in a dash for the toilets.
That moment or two of pure silence in the auditorium was definite
and, but I can't help feeling that it was the silence of an audience
denied the chance to see a film truly worthy of its source material.
Considered a classic
work of twentieth-century literature, not least for its feminist and
pacifist leanings, Vera Brittain’s 1933 memoir Testament of
Youth is a highly-personal account of the impact of war on
middle-class families, the upheaval of British society and the
terrible suffering inflicted on those left behind on the outbreak of
the First World War. Notable as it is for being one of the first
female accounts of the irrevocable damage done to a whole generation,
Brittain’s work endures to this day as a compelling account of the
domestic impact of total war. Such a vivid and personal work had the
potential for an even more affecting film, but one can’t help
feeling that the big screen adaptation of Brittain’s early life
only scratches the surface of such important issues.
Directed by
TV-turned-film director James Kent, Testament of Youth is a
very handsome affair. Visually, the film radiates quality, starting
with the cinematography which captures the rural beauty of pre-war
Britain with an effortless and exquisite sensibility. The camera
dances around the characters in early scenes evocative of the world
of Evelyn Waugh: a world of public schools, rolling countryside and,
when Vera receives an offer to study at Oxford, orderly and
scholastically-tranquil cities. The camera is not afraid to focus
intimately on the faces of the characters or present Oxford in an
idyllic glow. And then there's the cast. Most recognisable is Game
of Thrones'
Kit Harington as Vera's love interest, Roland. Harington's
performance is genial and sincere and will certainly provide some
eye-candy for the women in the audience, as he courts Vera
(constantly, however, under the watchful eye of a chaperone).
But it is Harington's
opposite, Alicia Vikander, who steals the show. Vikander came to
international attention in the superb Danish film A Royal Affair
and, whilst it may seem odd to
cast a Swedish actress in the role of Vera, Vikander's accent rarely
defaults from the cut-glass English accent of Ms Brittain. The hopes
and loves of Vera – and their eventual destruction – are
intensely and convincingly conveyed by Vikander, as she portrays the
journey of Vera from the serene Oxford quad to the suffocating
nursing hut on the killing fields of France. Vikander really is
fantastic.
Any
film version of Testament of Youth was,
thanks to its subject matter, always going to be defined by its
central subjects of war, friendship and, in particular, grief. It
explores the sense of peer pressure felt amongst the young generation
of men who felt compelled to enlist, if not for King and country,
then for their friends and for the expectations of society. There can
be no arguing that the film doesn't pull at the heart strings and
there are some individual scenes which are totally devastating
(Dominic West's intense expression of a father's private grief in the
most public of settings is a notable example). But the sum of
individual emotionally-piercing moments does not, I'm afraid, make
for a film which works as a whole.
The
central problem is that the narrative takes the audience through a
plot which is instantly recognisable and which has been seen many
times before. From its idyllic beginnings, one knows exactly where
the film is headed, and the script seems, on some level, to treat the
audience as rather dim. The beginning of war is flagged by the camera
focusing on a newspaper headline, the news of a death foreshadowed by
an scene of excited anticipation, and the film's moral message summed
up in a rather contrived speech towards the end of the film. We've
seen this all before, and I can't help but find this to be a rather
lazy approach to film-making (made worse by the evident care and
detail with which the cinematography, mise-en-sène and acting is
approached). In essence, Testament of Youth had
such potential to be powerful, intelligent and cautionary, just as
its source material was and is. In the end, however, the film's
romantic and melodramatic strains overwhelm any incisive commentary
on the nature of war, love and the experiences of women in a time of
unprecedented struggle.
In
the end, I can forgive Testament of Youth for
much. It is powerfully-acted, constructed with great care and beauty
and contains much to be admired. But, despite its explicit horrors of
death, grief and sacrifice, it feels a little inert and I left the
cinema moved, but wishing it had been so much more.
Clapperboard Rating: * * * and-a-half!
