the times | Friday November 13 2020 1GT 7
For the last Times film club — thank
you all for your attention and keen-
eyed observations — I’m going back
to the start. Jane Campion’s The Piano
was the first film that I watched for
my master’s degree in film studies.
It immediately provoked fiery,
foam-flecked arguments amongthe students. I bought it completely.
I loved the look, Michael Nyman’s
score and the Oscar-winning
performances, and felt that the
screenplay expressed essential
truths about power and desire.
This mid-19th-century tug-of-love
between the mute Ada (Holly
Hunter), the stiff Alisdair (Sam Neill)
and the wild man Baines (Harvey
Keitel) is almost biblical. It’s endlessly
rewatchable, always rewarding.
Holly Hunter and Anna Paquin Amazon, Apple, GoogleWhat did you think of The Piano?
Join Kevin Maher for a live chat on
Monday, November 16, from noon
to 1.30pm. Put your thoughts in the
comment section below the feature
at thetimes.co.uk/arts, and, since this
is the final film club, tell us what
your favourite movie has beenFilm Club
The Piano
(1993)
Kevin Maher’s f i n a l
film club choice is a
dramatic tug-of-love
Will Hodgkinson
finds AC/DC reassuringly samey p
James Marriott
finds Paxman has mellowed p
James Jacks on
on the battle to save our pubs p
Jingle Jangle:
A Christmas
Journey
PG, 122min
{{{{(Madalen Mills and
Forest WhitakerForest Whitaker
is terrific in this
touching tale of
a toymaker who
has lost his mojo,
says Kevin Maher
the big film
GARETH GATRELL/NETFLIXYule love it: a Christmas family treat
I
t’s easy to forget about Forest
Whitaker. He has drifted, in
recent years, into that dreaded
casting category of “solid
supporting player” and is
thus frequently granted
secondary status in mainstream
blockbusters such as Rogue One,
Arrival and Black Panther. Yet given
half a chance, and a meatier role, the
59-year-old Oscar-winner (for The
Last King of Scotland) can be nothing
less than mesmerising.
He is the still centre of gravity for
everything that’s busy, wonderfully
gaudy and hyperactive in this
Christmas musical about a Victorian-
era toymaker called Jeronicus Jangle
(Whitaker) who has lost his mojo.
When we first encounter Jeronicus,
on the lightly snow-dusted “English”
streets of Cobbleton (they have the
Royal Mail, bobbies on the beat and
a largely American cast who have
chosen to retain their accents), he
plays the scene so softly that his
dialogue is barely audible.
His granddaughter Journey
(Madalen Mills, a winning turn),
has tracked him down after
30 years of estrangement from his
daughter, her mother, Jessica (Anika
Noni Rose). Journey accosts him
outside his dilapidated pawnbroker’s
(once a thriving toyshop) and
demands to become an employee
and participant in any future
toymaking endeavours. He doesn’t
even look up, but just mutters: “You
know what they say about children.They create a vacuum, and I don’t
have time for that.”
Whitaker rarely shifts gears
throughout the subsequent drama,
despite a plethora of narrative
incidents building up around him
(he’s about to be evicted, his new
invention doesn’t work, a former
employee has stolen from him). It’s
a risky performance strategy, always
on the verge of alienating the
audience (why is he so internal?).
Yet as the film advances into its
final act his choices pay stupendous
dividends. The little cracks of emotion
suddenly shine outwards to dazzling
effect. When Journey, a friendless
science nerd, reveals that she hasnever felt that she belongs, Jeronicus
smiles kindly and purrs: “A child with
an imagination always belongs.” And
when he reunites with Jessica he does
so with a song, and a sweet tenor
voice, that begins: “Maybe I could hold
you tight until your life is full of love.”
A single tear, right on cue, falls from
his left eye. It’s proper acting. All hail
the maestro.
The film surrounding Whitaker
is an audacious gamble. It was
originally conceived as a stage musical
more than two decades ago by the
playwright David E Talbert, who
directs the film, and has retained some
of those theatrical elements. The
pawnbroker’s interior set, especially,is extra spacious and presented in
proscenium, allowing for the many
swooping, leaping, high-energy
dance routines that pepper the film.
The musical numbers, including a
track by John Legend, are an eclectic
bunch, and range from R&B lite (the
opening This Day), to the rousing,
swoon-inducing Square Root of
Possible. “Is it possible that the square
root of impossible is meeeeeeeeeeee?”
Journey sings, in a set piece seemingly
designed to challenge the ear-worm
supremacy of Frozen’s Let it Go.
The plotting is bare bones and the
developments blatantly telegraphed.
Will Jeronicus recover his mojo? Will
his latest toy creation, after initial
hiccups and a mid-movie meltdown,
eventually become a barnstorming
success? Will his ex-employee and
nemesis, Gustafson (Keegan-Michael
Key), together with his evil automated
sidekick Don Juan Diego (Ricky
Martin), be rightfully punished? Will
Journey sing an even more rousing
version of Square Root of Possible?
All highly likely. Yet it’s delivered
with such straight-faced sincerity that
it proves difficult to resist, and even
harder to decry. Plus, how could you
object to a film that foregrounds a
pre-teen heroine who believes in
maths, science and the value of hard
work and perseverance over the crass
allure of instant fame and riches?
Film buffs, meanwhile, will be
satisfied by the winks and nods to
classic children’s movies. The film is
bookended by a bedtime story from
the Cosby Show veteran Phylicia
Rashad, which is very Princess Bride.
Jeronicus’s star creation is a sentient
robot that carries more than a whiff
of ET and Wall-E. While elsewhere
Peter Pan, Willy Wonka & the
Chocolate Factory and Mary Poppins
are liberally plundered for stylistic
cues and fantastical sequences (lots
of flying children).
Jingle Jangle: A Christmas Journey
ends with a startling image that has
been ripped straight from the pages
of JM Barrie and with the emerging
sense that a small-screen yuletide
staple has indeed arrived.
On Netflix