It is unclear if Frears saw Florence Foster Jenkins's aristocratic farce as a lighter, uptown version of A Face in the Crowd's native fascism, or why anyone thought that was needed. After her exposure in the press, Florence's angelic deathbed redemption furthers her self-deception into the cardboard heaven she sought in reality. Her dementia ends in the music of the spheres, hurting no one. It's a cheesy, gentle apotheosis with no repercussions outside her little world.
A. S. Hamrah
February 24, 2017