Up At the Villa by stdepue


									“Up at the Villa,” This romantic period drama is set in gorgeous, pre-World War II,
Tuscany, Florence and Siena, Italy, as Benito Mussolini and his Fascists are coming to
power. It was based on a novel by W. Somerset Maugham, and stars Kristin Scott
Thomas as Mary Panton, a beautiful, 35-ish, penniless English widow forced by
circumstance to consider the proposal of an aging diplomat, Sir Edgar Swift, played by
James Fox (THE REMAINS OF THE DAY). When, at one of the dinner parties thrown
by Princess San Ferdinando (Anne Bancroft, THE MIRACLE WORKER), Mary’s seated
next to Rowley Flint, a brash, rich and married young American (Sean Penn, an Oscar
winner for MILK), a dangerous chain of events starts to unfold. At any rate, Mary is
eventually left to remember a passionate night in the company of Austrian refugee Karl
Richter, played by Jeremy Davies, SPANKING THE MONKEY; and must cover up an
inconvenient, likely to be scandalous death.

The location photography is fine, and cars, interiors, clothes, conversation, and drinking
habits are all appropriate to the era, and well done. It all must have cost a pretty packet.
Furthermore, the menace of coming fascism, and war, has been made palpable. Scott
Thomas is as good as ever: I for one have admired her since FOUR WEDDINGS AND A
FUNERAL, and THE ENGLISH PATIENT. Furthermore, this must be considered an
all-star cast, and there are some good supporting players around, too: Derek Jacobi, I
CLAUDIUS, as Lucky Leadbetter, and Dudley Sutton, LOVEJOY, as Harold Atkinson.
In fact, personnel are distinguished before, and behind the camera. David Brown
produced, with credit given to Sydney Lumet as executive producer, and Arnon Milchan
as associate producer, and all three of these men have made some very good movies.

Yet somehow, things didn’t turn out very well here. Scott Thomas and Fox have no
chemistry, but they aren’t supposed to. However, Scott Thomas and Penn have no
chemistry, and Penn acts as if his entire face has been Botoxed, leaving him unable to
move a facial muscle. He also, although he has been introduced as an American, speaks
with an extremely strange midlantic accent. Jeremy Davies is just not particularly
convincing as Karl, and Scott Thomas has no chemistry with him, either. Anne Bancroft
tends to overact as the English princess when, just off the top of my head, there is that
trio of English Dames that could have played the part, Helen Mirren, Judi Dench, or
Maggie Smith. Who cast this thing, anyway? Beautiful scenery. Acceptable history.
Yet, good people before and behind the camera somehow conspired to make this film,
which feels as if it should have been released direct to video.

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