"My Name Is Gabrielle Colette And The Hand That Holds The Pen Writes History..."
Touted as a rousing return to form for Keira Knightley after the critical massacre of Collateral Beauty, Colette, directed by British filmmaker, Wash Westmoreland, a Leeds-born artist most famous for the Academy Award winning drama, Still Alice, back in 2014, brings to the big screen the life of French writer and actress, Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette, who at the beginning of the twentieth century and under the guise of her husband's pen name, seemingly changed the face of French literature forever, bringing into the public eye a world of fascination and intrigue which even in the twenty first century still feels undoubtedly relevant and contemporary. For a movie which in one of its' very opening scenes feels brave enough to contain a particularly scabrous monologue regarding the inability to leave the theatre even when what is occurring on stage is of a particularly awful pedigree, such a bookmark would be the easy fallback if Colette itself fell into the same category of mediocrity, yet with equally superb performances from central the pairing of Knightley and Dominic West (The Wire), beautiful set designs and a refreshing indifferent and laid back approach to the varying underlying themes within the narrative, Westmoreland's latest is a fulfilling and gorgeously fascinating depiction of an historical icon and a movie which feels almost too timely considering the current societal climate.
Featuring a screenplay from the combined writing talents of Westmoreland himself, Rebecca Lenkiewicz (Ida) and Richard Glatzer, the previous spouse and collaborator of Westmoreland who tragically passed away back in 2015, Colette both embraces the traditions of a period drama piece with the expected levels of authenticity and attention to detail whilst also attempting to cripple the cliches attached to the genre with as much empowering and radical ideas as its' leading heroine's effect on the world of literature. With the humble beginnings of Knightley's titular youthful country girl portraying her as a doe-eyed, slightly innocent dreamer, her character immediately becomes hooked under the spell of Dominic West's growling, moustache bearing, Henry, a well regarded author and critic who utilises the pen name "Willy" in his Parisian homeland and who slowly begins to publish his wife's tales of "Claudine" under his own name, resulting in sudden fame, fortune and rapturous acclaim. Whilst it could have been easy for Colette to jump on the #MeToo bandwagon in regards to film's underlying theme regarding the exploitation of power in regards to gender, Westmoreland's film refreshingly approaches such notions with expert delicacy, and whilst there are definite moments of dramatic female empowerment, the movie never felt preachy or sanctimonious, instead treating wandering sexual orientations and gender fluidity with a degree of nonchalance which really impressed. Whilst the film as a whole could have done with at least twenty minutes knocked off the final runtime, Colette is a movie which held a point, presented it magnificently and left you wondering where on earth the real Keira Knightley has been for the past however many years.
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