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ON CHESIL BEACH
Director: Dominic Cooke Cast: Saoirse Ronan, Billy Howle, Adrian Scarborough, Emily Watson, Anne-Marie Duff, Bebe Cave, Samuel West MPAA
Rating: Running Time: 1:50 Release Date: 5/18/18 (limited); 5/25/18 (wider) |
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Review by Mark Dujsik | May 24, 2018 Just to look at the couple at the heart of On Chesil Beach is enough to know they're in love. The film opens with the two on that rocky beach in southern England, taking in the view but appreciating each other's company more. This is, we quickly learn, the occasion of their honeymoon. They walk back into town, arrive at the hotel, and retire to their reserved suite. Save for an extended epilogue that jumps forward in time, the rest of the story plays out in that room, but the screenplay, written by Ian McEwan and based on his novel, divides the actual narrative in half. Half of it is the mounting promise of consummating this marriage, and the other half is made up of memories of how the newlyweds got here. As with any romance, there are really three stories here: the couple's and the individual stories of each of the partners. In a significant way, knowing at the start that this relationship leads to what appears to be a promising marriage defines these characters' respective stories from the beginning. McEwan embraces this idea, letting us see how the two meet and understanding how they might come to complement each other. We know, for instance, that both Florence (Saoirse Ronan) and Edward (Billy Howle) are rather shy. She comes from a politically conservative home, with domineering parents (played by Emily Watson and Samuel West) who spend dinnertime chiding their daughter for her liberal beliefs. He comes from a working-class household where his mother (played by Anne-Marie Duff), having suffered a traumatic brain injury, is in need of constant attention. Both are overlooked by their families in some way. The two meet when Edward takes a bus to Oxford, where Florence lives, looking to tell anyone about his good grades in school. We can anticipate the eventual clash here when Florence's parents learn about Edward's social status, but we can also see how, in very different ways, both of these young people would have had to develop a certain level of patience and caring. They mesh in ways that are far more attractive than just their good looks. As a romance, it's quite lovely, and that is both the point of and the subversion within McEwan's tale, which grows darker and more claustrophobic with the passing of the evening in the hotel room and as this collection of memories unfolds. These two seem perfect for each other, and in another world or another time, they very well might be. It's 1962, though, and sex isn't something that people like these two talk about with openness. They don't talk about much of anything, really, except that they love each other and that they're happy being together. These are nice sentiments, but they're hardly the foundation for much more than a youthful infatuation. The awkwardness in the hotel room begins with external circumstances, as a pair of waiters barges in on their build-up to the wedding night. Both Edward and Florence are too polite to ask them to leave, and maybe there's a bit of relief on both of their parts, too. This is a pretty terrifying moment for both of them. We learn that Edward is a virgin, and while she doesn't say the fact, it's assumed that Florence is as well. They understand the technical aspects of sex, but knowing how a jet engine works doesn't prepare a person to fly a plane. That's the story in the hotel room, which grows increasingly uncomfortable as Edward and Florence move closer to the bed and slowly remove more articles of clothing. On the face of it, the awkwardness is charming. That's the couple's story. Beneath all of that, though, are the Edward and Florence's own stories, which connect, of course, but also show how much distance there actually is between the two of them. If they can't bring themselves to talk about the reality of sex just before it happens, how much else have they left unspoken in the time before arriving here? The memories are primarily of their courtship, which is so innocent and ordinary that it almost aches the heart. Edward encourages Florence's goal of becoming a professional violinist, promising to see her perform when she takes the stage at the concert hall where she works. Florence helps around Edward's house when she visits, doing the chores that Edward's mother cannot but humbly allowing the ailing woman to take the credit. "Marry that girl," his father (played by Adrian Scarborough) says, offering sage advice that sounds more like an order. These flashbacks, presented with unapologetically hopeless romanticism by director Dominic Cooke, begin by leading us down one path, which puts an innocent spin on what's happening in the hotel room. As the relationship progresses in the past, though, we begin to see through the veneer, noting doubts and insecurities within each of the partners. The most telling scenes in regard to Florence's past are like flashing nightmares, barely showing but fully revealing why her idea of sex means something completely different from Edward's. It, like so much else between them, remains unspoken. Ronan and Howle's performances are completely in tune with the shifting material, playing their characters in such a way that our initial impressions and our final understanding of them don't conflict. Florence and Edward remain the same from start to finish, but On Chesil Beach refines and redefines our comprehension of how and why they love each other. The ultimate tragedy here is that neither of them is truly willing or able to put that into words. Copyright © 2018 by Mark Dujsik. All rights reserved. |
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(for some sexual content and nudity)
