Family Misfortunes
Rust Belt violence or Irish orphans, take your pick of the season's familial woes with ''Out of the Furnace'' and ''Philomena''
Not every drama suffers this fate, though. Philomena exists on the opposite end of the spectrum: It’s a story almost too outrageous to be believed, precisely because it’s unique.
A young Irish woman, pregnant out of wedlock in the early 1950s, is abandoned by her family, lands at the doorstep of a convent, and loses her child when nuns sell him to an American couple. The woman grows old, never telling her secret until she casts off five decades of Catholic guilt and decides to find the son who was stolen away from her.
Philomena is inspired by these “true events,” according to a title card shown before the movie begins. If the story told on screen even remotely approaches the real tragedy of Philomena Lee — and from what I’ve gleaned, it does — this incredible tale deserves all kinds of applause for its messages about faith, resilience and forgiveness. The subtext of this movie concerns itself with a simple, difficult question: How, if at all, does religious conviction help the people wronged by a religious institution? The answer, of course, is better seen than explained.
Judi Dench stars in the title role, once again turning in a splendid performance at the twilight of a career that’s been full of them. (A reminder: The woman is 78 years old!) Her magic has always been her ability to scale herself, that distinctive Dench look layered beneath impeccable accents and subtle flourishes. In Philomena, she’s a little, innocent Irish lady, prone to outlandish compliments and delighted by the silliest sort of pleasantries. (To wit: When she arrives at a hotel in America, she wants to stay in her room and watch Big Momma’s House.) But she’s also a remarkably astute observer who’s chosen to be that way.
Across from Dench is comic actor Steve Coogan, who co-wrote and produced Philomena. Coogan plays Martin Sixsmith, a former journalist, disgraced flack, and all-around smug pessimist who begrudgingly decides to write about Philomena and her child. (Sixsmith initially resists the idea, gruffing about how human-interest stories are for the “weak-minded, vulnerable and ignorant.” He is a jerk.) This is Coogan’s most understated performance to date, and to his credit he slips into the modest role with few noticeable difficulties. He and Dench make an odd pair — his gangly, long frame towers over her in every scene — but they develop a curious, warm rapport that’s played for both gags and dramatic tension. Dench scales her performance against Coogan, so he leads accordingly.
Starring Judi Dench, Steve Coogan
Rated PG-13
98 minutes
Now playing
Area theaters
What sours Philomena, regrettably, is its unsure direction by Stephen Frears. His low-key style matches the lead performances quite well — until Frears forces the movie toward a sort of melodrama that’s neither appropriate nor useful as a storytelling device. Philomena leans into the maudlin as it concludes, undermining what had been, up to a point, a lovingly executed, unpretentious drama. It’s not enough to spoil the movie, thankfully, but just enough to make you wonder if Frears lost his nerve.
This is not the best movie you’ll see this year. It’s not even the best movie you’ll see this month. What Philomena embraces, though, is the one thing audiences rarely see at movie theaters: a truly great story. Don’t go expecting anything more or anything less, and you won’t be disappointed.
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