Not Coming to a Theater Near You

Coriolanus

AFI FEST Ralph Fiennes exhibits a sort of dignified intensity in his roles that’s hard to articulate. There’s a certain level of eloquence and class to his performances (including and especially his darker turns in such films as The English Patient, Red Dragon, and the latter Harry Potter adaptations) that, even when he’s on the verge of lunacy, can’t be suppressed. This proves true in Coriolanus as well. As the doomed Roman general for whom Shakespeare’s historical tragedy is named, Fiennes exhibits an open-eyed intensity that’s as close to unhinged as the usually-restrained actor has ever come. This frightfulness comes mainly as the result of his monomaniacal pursuit of, and hatred toward, first his avowed nemesis and then the city that has betrayed him. His powerful, even bilious words serve as a call to arms for lesser warriors; “all tongues speak his name,” says one man, and indeed all minds think of him—though not always positively. Coriolanus is a vengeful, nigh-unstoppable force to his enemies, but to his countrymen he’s proud and unconcerned with the plight of the commoners. Fewer and fewer remain to listen to his exhortations as time wears on, and eventually he’s left shouting to the ether.

In his dual role as actor-director, Fiennes has a clear interest in the ways in which someone like Coriolanus both does and does not connect to the lower classes. (Considering the political climate into which the film is about to be released, this is quite apropos.) And while it’s true that the general is a pigheaded jingoist, he makes no attempt to hide this. A major facet of his lack of interest in the proletariat is a refusal to pander to masses of people increasingly given to shouting slogans whose meaning they don’t fully understand. As the many cry for the blood of the one, the viewer is caught between an arrogant protagonist and a mob-mentality public. Neither is ideal, but the screaming hordes engender such a high level of dislike that there’s never any question as to which side we prefer.

Each of these elements translates quite well onto an updated version of the play, but the film as a whole suffers from a language barrier in the form of its Shakespearean language. Doubtless it makes me a philistine to say that, but an aversion to the Bard’s prose isn’t the issue here—believability is. It requires a particular form of suspension of disbelief for Shakespeare’s dialogue to be immersive; while far from impossible to achieve in a present-day setting, this just isn’t achieved here. Too many lines simply don’t mesh well with an otherwise-contemporary milieu made up of Balkan conflicts and M16s. Fiennes is as assured and confident behind the camera as he is in front of it, but the language is ultimately akin to the one Christmas light that won’t light up and blacks out all the others.

by Michael Nordine   on 13 Nov 2011 2:51 PM   Source: 35mm print