On Chesil Beach marks the feature-length directorial debut from Dominic Cooke, with a screenplay Ian McEwan has adapted from his acclaimed novella of the same name. Despite its seemingly odd, award season-unfriendly release date meaning it will likely be drowned out in the tide of superhero spectacle and summer blockbusters, it is quite clear to see why the filmmakers have beached the project: it's rather limp and destined to be forgotten by the time we walk the award season shore.
Focusing on the relationship of young spouses Florence (Saoirse Ronan) and Edward (Billy Howle), On Chesil Beach explores intimacy, 'first times', lust and passion for the newlyweds of the story in the 1960s. Set on the first day of their honeymoon intercut with flashbacks from milestones in the young couple's life together, On Chesil Beach is an underwhelming venture that very rarely finds the power to tell the moving story that made the novella such a success.
A stirring, sweeping classic this not, and On Chesil Beach washes up as a somewhat wet and disappointing affair of the heart. A combination of dreary characters, an unremarkable story and restrained melodrama make it a sluggish piece that lacks the spark or conviction of the central couple to elevate it any. While the dynamic between Florence and Edward is designed to be uncomfortable, it's a slog to endure due to the monotony that settles in early on: when we return from every flashback, just as the momentum is beginning to develop, we are snapped back to a very lethargic reality you have little interest in seeing through to the end, one that is utterly riddled with cliches and conventions. Admittedly, I have not read the source material, but it surely works better on the page than screen, with the sprawling narrative struggling in its cinematic execution.
Only in the final twenty minutes or so, after a jump to the future, does the film manage to develop something powerful. The denouncement it works towards, packed with emotion and obviously inspired by La La Land's epilogue sequence (it was not in the original novella and added by McEwan to the screenplay afterwards), does not feel deserving. In a film otherwise absent of any potent emotion, that they score so effectively in the final moments is a wonder -- some may call it a sheer fluke. While I'll throw my hands up and admit that it did bring a tear or two to my eye, it filled me with frustration too; how did a film so otherwise underwhelming manage to achieve such an impressive ending it failed to put the work into towards.
Billy Howle impresses as Edward, reminiscent of the loveable dorkiness Eddie Redmayne displayed in The Theory of Everything. He manages to enliven a two-dimensional character as valiantly as possible and his effort is felt strongest in the final act. But this is a rare, surprising and disappointing misstep for Ronan, who fails to reach the standard she has set through her previous work in the likes of Lady Bird and Brooklyn. When you become the second youngest person ever to garner three Academy Award nominations, you set yourself a precedent and unfortunately her performance her struggles to meet that. It's nowhere near bad so to speak, just aggressively mediocre and shallow - which is even more dispiriting coming from someone as reliable as Ronan usually is.
For a first time director, Cooke is competent - but does leave a lot to be desired. While the final shot of the film is framed to perfection (shoutout to cinematographer Sean Bobbitt for that), he leaves it until the very, very final minute to show us what he is capable of. Rather like the script's emotional climax, it cannot help but seem like 'too little, too late'. He keeps it tight enough structurally but it's unnecessarily long, even at just 105 minutes. It seems both stuffy and empty, doing a lot while saying (and showing) little. It would work far better as a straight-to-television 90-minute adaption for the BBC and it is certainly unsurprising to learn that they co-produced the piece: it has all the twee and sentimental hallmarks of their poorer, inferior work.
Like a day at the seaside on a rainy day, On Chesil Beach is a bit of a wash-out. Any poetic beauty is stilted by this drab adaptation, complete with a simultaneously stuffy and empty narrative that plods along rather aimlessly before landing on a touching finale it never really earns. Howle impresses while Ronan uncharacteristically disappoints, unable to nurture a believable chemistry - although you could argue that this does come down to the make-up of the story itself. Despite infrequent success in delivering a stirring story of intimacy and connection, it's an overall disappointing picture that squanders the talent and goodwill on display; maybe I'll give the book a read and revisit the film down the line, although I can't say I'm particularly enthused about doing such. I'd rather go to the beach.
Summary: On Chesil Beach is a damp and underwhelming love affair that will find itself lost at sea by the time the award season tide washes in. Like a rainy day at the seaside, it's a soggy, wasted experience that ultimately amounts to very little - until the sun comes out at the last minute to rub your nose in it as you're leaving, by which time it's too little, too late.
A stirring, sweeping classic this not, and On Chesil Beach washes up as a somewhat wet and disappointing affair of the heart. A combination of dreary characters, an unremarkable story and restrained melodrama make it a sluggish piece that lacks the spark or conviction of the central couple to elevate it any. While the dynamic between Florence and Edward is designed to be uncomfortable, it's a slog to endure due to the monotony that settles in early on: when we return from every flashback, just as the momentum is beginning to develop, we are snapped back to a very lethargic reality you have little interest in seeing through to the end, one that is utterly riddled with cliches and conventions. Admittedly, I have not read the source material, but it surely works better on the page than screen, with the sprawling narrative struggling in its cinematic execution.
Only in the final twenty minutes or so, after a jump to the future, does the film manage to develop something powerful. The denouncement it works towards, packed with emotion and obviously inspired by La La Land's epilogue sequence (it was not in the original novella and added by McEwan to the screenplay afterwards), does not feel deserving. In a film otherwise absent of any potent emotion, that they score so effectively in the final moments is a wonder -- some may call it a sheer fluke. While I'll throw my hands up and admit that it did bring a tear or two to my eye, it filled me with frustration too; how did a film so otherwise underwhelming manage to achieve such an impressive ending it failed to put the work into towards.
Billy Howle impresses as Edward, reminiscent of the loveable dorkiness Eddie Redmayne displayed in The Theory of Everything. He manages to enliven a two-dimensional character as valiantly as possible and his effort is felt strongest in the final act. But this is a rare, surprising and disappointing misstep for Ronan, who fails to reach the standard she has set through her previous work in the likes of Lady Bird and Brooklyn. When you become the second youngest person ever to garner three Academy Award nominations, you set yourself a precedent and unfortunately her performance her struggles to meet that. It's nowhere near bad so to speak, just aggressively mediocre and shallow - which is even more dispiriting coming from someone as reliable as Ronan usually is.
For a first time director, Cooke is competent - but does leave a lot to be desired. While the final shot of the film is framed to perfection (shoutout to cinematographer Sean Bobbitt for that), he leaves it until the very, very final minute to show us what he is capable of. Rather like the script's emotional climax, it cannot help but seem like 'too little, too late'. He keeps it tight enough structurally but it's unnecessarily long, even at just 105 minutes. It seems both stuffy and empty, doing a lot while saying (and showing) little. It would work far better as a straight-to-television 90-minute adaption for the BBC and it is certainly unsurprising to learn that they co-produced the piece: it has all the twee and sentimental hallmarks of their poorer, inferior work.
Like a day at the seaside on a rainy day, On Chesil Beach is a bit of a wash-out. Any poetic beauty is stilted by this drab adaptation, complete with a simultaneously stuffy and empty narrative that plods along rather aimlessly before landing on a touching finale it never really earns. Howle impresses while Ronan uncharacteristically disappoints, unable to nurture a believable chemistry - although you could argue that this does come down to the make-up of the story itself. Despite infrequent success in delivering a stirring story of intimacy and connection, it's an overall disappointing picture that squanders the talent and goodwill on display; maybe I'll give the book a read and revisit the film down the line, although I can't say I'm particularly enthused about doing such. I'd rather go to the beach.
★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆
(5/10)
Summary: On Chesil Beach is a damp and underwhelming love affair that will find itself lost at sea by the time the award season tide washes in. Like a rainy day at the seaside, it's a soggy, wasted experience that ultimately amounts to very little - until the sun comes out at the last minute to rub your nose in it as you're leaving, by which time it's too little, too late.