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Keira Knightley tries her best in this light but safe biography Colette |
Director: Wash Westmoreland
Cast: Keira Knightley (Gabrielle Colette), Dominic West
(Henry Gauthier-Villars/Willy), Eleanor Tomlinson (Georgie Raoul-Duval), Aiysha
Hart (Polaire), Fiona Shaw (Sido), Denise Gough (Missy), Robert Pugh (Jules),
Rebecca Root (Rachilde), Julian Wadham (Ollendorff)
In the era of #metoo what could make for a more relevant
storyline today than this biography of Gabrielle Colette (Kiera Knightley), a
young woman who marries literary playboy Henry Gauthier-Villars (Dominic West) aka Willy. Henry brings her back to
Paris, and reveals the secrets of his success – he is the front man for a host
of ghostwriters, producing articles and even novels for the public. Colette
writes a novel for the “factory”, based on her own childhood – Claudine à
l’école – which Willy
initially rejects but later publishes under his own name (after he has
suggested revisions to improve its plot and general raunchiness). The book is a
smash – and Willy is a sensation – as are the sequels, but the growing
frustration Colette feels at her lack of recognition, combined with the growing
sense of freedom she finds in their open marriage, starts to lead her to
question what she wants from her own life.
Colette is a
decent, rather middle-of-the-road and middlebrow literary biography, that dabbles
with controversy and racy content, but essentially follows a fairly traditional
structure of our hero finding her own voice. The most interesting thing about
it, despite the obvious surface message of the woman exploited by a man, is to
suggest that while Willy certainly profited from Colette’s work, he was also
the primary driver in her development as a writer and that the two of them
maintained a stable working partnership for years until events led to their
collapse.
Much has been made in particular of a scene where Willy
locks Colette into a room to write – and there isn’t a single review that
hasn’t mentioned it – but, in the context, it’s Colette who has failed to focus
on the writing (which the pair have already been paid for), or wdo the work she has committed to do, much to Willy’s
disappointment when he returns to the country home that the advance for the
book has paid for. While her objections are at first furious she swiftly
settles into writing in the room (and there is no suggestion that
this event is any more than a single one-off, a shock tactic from Willy to get
Colette creating again). This isn’t to say the film is suggesting that Colette
shouldn’t have received all the credit and freedom from the start, but it does
raise more interesting questions: yes Willy was taking advantage of her, but
yes he also pushed her to achieve things she would never have done herself.
It’s all part of Dominic West’s superb performance as Willy,
skilfully balancing a man who (until the final act of the film) is neither
flat-out villain or misunderstood hero, but a man of shades of grey: flawed,
selfish, lazy, thoughtless but also encouraging of his wife’s exploration of
her own sexuality and creativity, supportive and capable of acts of charming
sweetness and kindness. Westmoreland makes clear that for much of the marriage
their relationship was functional and a good match, for all it was founded on
the false sands of Colette being denied the public credit for her own work.
Sure he spunks their money up the wall continuously, but he also helps her
become an artist.
For all the film’s workmanlike structure and obvious
telling, this does make for a far more interesting version of the story than the
straight “ogre-victim” story you might expect, even if it does start to get a
bit bogged down in sexual shenanigans. The mostly focus around bisexual
American socialite Georgie (Eleanor Tomlinson with a soapy Southern accent),
who becomes the lover of both Colette and Willy. It’s part of the sense of
Colette questing for an identity, but the idea of what this is and what the
journey is never quite solidifies into something really incoherent. Though I
suppose you could argue the journey is Colette realising she doesn’t need Willy, and that shorn of him she
can survive far better on her own than he can without her.
Part of this is connected to Keira Knightley’s solid, but
not quite deep enough, performance as Colette. As is often the way with her
best work, Knightley works her socks off here and is clearly completely
committed to the role and the film – but she just isn’t quite capable of
elevating the depths of her skill to meet the full demands of the film. She
doesn’t disgrace herself at all, but it’s a performance that never had enough
fire and life to really become compelling.
It means you don’t quite get the powerful feminist message
the film is aiming for. Knightley’s performance isn’t quite strong enough to
counter-balance West, and the film’s failure to put together a compelling story
line around what Colette actually wants
– the film eventually settles for a rather ill-thought out phrase about wanting
to lead her own life – means it peters out without much impact. There is a
powerful story in here around women being denied recognition for their own
talents and skills, but it never quite coalesces as it should.
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