A poor neurotic portray of a fascinating woman. As for directing, tedious dialogue and voice over don't leave enough space for the filmic language to unravel properly allowing us to access our lead poetically – rather than intellectually. Cinema is poetry but it must use the medium's own language.
This artist biopic ought to be one of Terence Davies's more accessible movies (and it is in many ways since there is more humor in it than you would expect) but it is also a gut-wrenching film due to the main performance which I had not been prepared for. I was expecting a cold beautiful aesthetic but I got so much more with Cynthia Nixon. I can't believe there can be a better performance given this year.
Though a fastidiously composed and serious work of art (that at times reminded me of the highest heights of Max Ophüls), I feel I must attribute to Davies here a kind of undercurrent of sniggering remove in his treatment of an American subject; far from being a liability, this indirectly caused me to feel champagne-drunk and giddy for the first two-thirds. Helps that Dickinson is impossibly dear to me.
Moments of Davies' artistic genius are found in the way light passes, in the way the camera lingers in close up, and the way song is woven into the otherwise overly literary, conversation centered film.
84/100 - Great.
After a rare misstep (the maudlin, melodramatic Sunset Song) director Terence Davies quickly returns with an absolutely stunning film about poet Emily Dickinson. Richly directed and written by Davies with his usual amazing attention to detail aided by what may be a career best performance by Cynthia Nixon. Nixon captures a complex character full of hope and familial fidelity who gives into bitterness and resentment.
Davies never misses a beat in this elegiac, winsome portrait of the Dickinson family, bursting with delicious barbs and epigrams, and above all, the soaring, indomitable spirit of Emily as she grapples with God, mortality and suffocating gender roles.
Sentido estético, diálogos densos y una sublime interpretación de Cynthia Nixon que le hace expiar su culpa por haber participado en ese atentado contra los derechos humanos (y no humanos) que es "Sexo en NY". Maravillosa, como la poesía de Dickinson.