Imagine a sour love child miraculously conceived by All About Eve’s Addison DeWitt and Laura’s Waldo Lydecker, with John Simon acting as midwife, and you’ll be prepared for Jamie Erskine, the fiercely intelligent, ruthlessly demanding main character played with an absolutely delicious glow by Ian McKellen In the movie “The Critic”. Directed by Anand Tucker (“Shopgirl”) and written by Patrick Marber (“Notes on a Scandal”), the film is a heady mix of historical thriller, compelling melodrama and dark comedy, the second most remarkable thing being how seamlessly these various elements blend together.
But even more impressive is McKellen’s multi-faceted portrayal of the man known as “the Beast,” both behind his back and in front of his face, in the film world of 1930s London theater.
Erskine takes inappropriate pleasure in ripping apart productions (and performances) that he finds brutally lacking, and the physical appearance of actors that he finds unattractive. He insists that his harsh criticism is only part of his ongoing campaign to uphold his lofty standards. But it’s clear that he really enjoys using bitches and brutal insults as offensive weapons.
Clearly, readers of his newspaper have equally enjoyed savoring his scathing reviews for more than 40 years — well, at least those readers who never fell on the wrong end of his sharp pen.
Perhaps the lesser actor playing Erskine — i.e., the one who was the target of the harshest critical cuts — would have been content to give a performance that could be labeled Oscar Mayer and sold by the slice. But there is much more to McKellen’s portrayal of Erskine than just sheer, blatant misanthropy. Time and again McKellen rises to the challenge of maneuvering through the film’s countless plot twists and tonal shifts, turning imperiously funny, fervently devious, forlornly sad, and pitifully desperate. In fact, he did succeed in arousing sympathy for the “monster,” and not just because he was openly gay at a time when homosexuality was banned in London.
We are introduced to Erskine as he makes a characteristically grand entrance to a revival of a Jacobean tragedy, looking visibly horrified as he endures the production’s glaring (in his opinion) flaws. Then he returns home to dictate to Tom (Alfred Enoch), his younger servant, writer and long-time companion, and writes a note for his leading lady, Nina Land (Gemma Arterton, one of the leading figures in a particularly difficult case), in industrial strength poison. role). His description of her displaying “all the grace of a startled mule” is one of the most beautiful things he writes about her. The truth is that although his words are harsh, they are not far from justice.
Unfortunately, Erskine is already in a tenuous position with Viscount David Brooke (a subtly expressive Mark Strong), who has recently replaced his deceased father as editor of the London Chronicle, and does not share his high regard for Erskine’s flamethrowing prose. More unfortunately, as it is gradually revealed, Brock, a straight-laced family man, has long harbored a secret crush on the land.
But even this is not enough to dismiss Erskine. It wasn’t until he and Tom were harassed by fascist blackshirts during a late-night stroll down a London side street, and then arrested by police who were more intolerant of openly gay men – especially gay men. black Men like Tom – Erskine was informed of it. Not surprisingly, he can’t bear to be fired and is looking for a way to convince Brock to rehire him.
“All men have secrets,” says Erskine. “I will find him.” He finds exactly what he’s looking for when he discovers Brooke’s respect for Nina, and skillfully includes her in his scheme to blackmail his former and future boss. For her part, Nina feels insecure about her acting ability, and is so eager to win Erskine’s approval that, despite her initial reluctance, she agrees to sleep with Brooke in exchange for rave reviews from the critic to boost her career. Nothing good comes from this.
Inspired by the novel “Curtain Call” by Anthony Quinn – No Which Anthony Quinn – but the prolific author who was, no joke, film critic from 1998 to 2013 for The Independent – “The Critic” is cleverly structured as a tangled series of twists, betrayals, unsettling discoveries and unexpected deaths. It’s as cleverly contrived as a bedroom farce, leading to an ending as inevitable as that of a Greek tragedy, with an effectively ambiguous final line to bring down the curtain.
David Higgs’s stark cinematography and Lucien Sorin’s strong production design generously enhance the period flavor, and the supporting players – including Lesley Manville as Nina’s supportive but not entirely uncritical mother – are well cast and accomplished across the board. In fact, there is not much to criticize in The Critic. And when it comes to McKellen’s distinctive, distinct performance, the only appropriate response lies somewhere between admiration and astonishment. Bravo.