Florence Foster-Jenkins (2016) review - Movie Thoughts (Chapter 31) 🌟

Hello everyone,

Today's film was one of those ones where you don't love it, but you also don't hate it. It ends up sitting right in the middle of the spectrum of likeability. I hate writing reviews for films when I feel like that because it feels completely indecisive, even though my decision is middle of the road. Ranting or raving are instinctively easy, but these types of experiences and writing challenges are great for exercising my brain. I hope what came out this time made some type of sense to you....

(**disclaimer: the following thoughts are 100% my opinion, you do not have to agree with them - film is inherently subjective and everyone's perspective is valid! Also, there are probably spoilers in the following, read at your own risk. Now onto some thoughts....**)

Source: IMDB

Within the growing array of dramedy biopics came a heartwarming and memorable story of a formidable woman whose legacy was truly one of a kind. During the 1940's in New York City, socialite Florence Foster-Jenkins (Meryl Streep) dreams of becoming an opera singer despite the reality of her terrible singing voice. Devoted husband/manager St. Clair Bayfield (Hugh Grant) goes to extreme lengths to make sure the façade of her talent, but faces his toughest challenge when she decides to perform a concert at the great Carnegie Hall. Experienced director Stephen Frears was a pair of safe hands for this narrative which explored both the whimsical rollercoaster of a singer who can’t sing and the subconscious emotional issues intertwined within. There was an innate sweetness and kindness that informed the warm tone Frears adopted to construct every aspect of this story.

Aside from the standard ‘so bad it’s good’ wordplays that could be used to describe the gravity of Florence’s voice, it would have been easy to slip into a mindset of taking the piss out of a woman who never understood how bad her vocals were. But there isn’t a whiff of satire or ridicule in Frears’ direction or Nicholas Martin’s heartwarming screenplay; instead grounding its emotional power in the enigmatic energy of who Florence was and the touching preposterousness of her story that initially drew Frears to the story.

Martin’s screenplay stayed faithful to the truth and possessed a nuanced balance between reality and the facade of a fantasy that Bayfield had meticulously crafted for his beloved wife. The heartbreaking exhaustion of constantly keeping up appearances until eventually the bubble burst ultimately humanized  the legend of Jenkins’ legacy.

This film had a captivating thematic voice, with multiple ideas working in tandem with one another to grab hold of audiences’ heartstrings and never let go. The hustle and bustle of wartime New York and Florence’s consistent flashes of reflection on the boys fighting for the nation’s freedom evoked a strong sense of society manifesting joy during a time of mass casualties and sacrifice. But at its core, there was something sad and melancholic underneath the bright lights and fabulous outfits.

This was also an inspiring and beautiful exploration of living with serious illness. It was revealed early that Florence was sick with syphilis; a devastating gift from her first husband on their wedding night. A disease that had cost her most of her life and stolen her ability to play the piano like an angel, it never stole her love of music. That deep obsession gave Florence fifty more years on Earth when her doctors predicted far fewer; and thus made the whole concept of her desire to sing all the more heartbreaking. The applause and success from her music was her oxygen. Some of the more eccentric and erratic behaviour was simply the unpredictability of a dying woman; even carrying around her will in a briefcase as an extension of her ever-present mortality. Watching her struggle felt like heartbreak personified; and much of that connection was because of Streep’s physical, all-consuming performance. Earning an Academy Award nomination, she captured her unique charms beautifully whilst expertly crafting a truly awful singing voice.

A surprisingly profound degree of thematic depth also came in the complicated state of Florence and Bayfield’s decades long marriage. Streep and Grant had wonderful chemistry onscreen, and it was always clear that Bayfield was devoted to Florence. So much so, he crafted a web of lies built on a payroll in order to make her dreams come true – if that’s not true love, what is? Loyalty was a powerful thing, but the notion of Bayfield hiding Florence’s true affinity to opera and more significantly hiding younger girlfriend Kathleen (Rebecca Ferguson) in closets and golf trips presented tough questions to ponder. A heartfelt resolution and a tearful farewell, through it all Bayfield never laughed at her but loved and supported her with a ferocity that was incredibly moving.

Grant’s refined performance as Bayfield was earnest and captivating; and the journey of ambitious pianist Cosme McMoon (Simon Helberg) was also lovely to watch as he fell into this unique situation and was humbled by Florence’s spellbinding presence. Helberg nailed the mannerisms and awkward pomp that define him, and a very shrill honest laugh that popped out largely when he was alone. The combined skill and passion of the three leads invigorated an already wonderful concept.

Frears’ Florence Foster-Jenkins was a love letter to a heroic fighter physically weakened by disease but thrived on a love of music and a tonedeaf devotion to singing. A confident screenplay that cleverly tackled both the emotional turmoil and against all odds success story, who knew watching someone sing so bad could look and feel so good?.

7.5/10, 3 STARS

Thanks for reading,

Love and singing centre stage at Carnegie Hall in a gorgeous costume, Emily 🌟