Another Miss from "The Jaw"

Why do I continue to hire out films with Keira Knightley's jaw in them?

The Edge of Love is a film to avoid.

My love (or lack thereof) of Keira and her great hawking jaw has been documented already. And her lower face once again takes up way too much space on the celluloid in this flick. Seriously, I am surprised it doesn't have its own gravitational pull. It totally detracts from any acting she may or may not be doing, and it is exacerbated entirely when there is shiny red lippy splashed about. Does NOTHING to distract.

The incredibly beige Sienna Miller has never pushed my buttons at all. Every time I see her in a magazine, I think "who is that vaguely pretty girl wearing that rediculous outfit?". I have never seen a film of hers where I found her the least bit engaging or believable.

And this one was no exception.

Why, you may ask, would I waste my one weekend I've had at home, not working, in AGES, on a mediocre period film that is trying to cash in on Atonement (down to the walking through the waves, KK hand in hand with a dishy boy). With terrible Welsh accents. (Such a great fun accent. So easy to do badly...).

I scoffed at the case and cover. Until I saw the words CILLIAN MURPHY.

This pale eyed Irish specimen, of barley shaking, zombie chasing (or chased) fame is usually enough for me to fall into instant raptures. And maybe it is just because didn't get nearly enough screen time, but he couldn't save this film for me.

No amount of artsy cutting together of moody tube singing, or splicing in Dylan Thomas poetry, or snide hints at lesbianism between Sienna and KK (WAY too much cheek touching to be a hetero friendship, really) could make me enjoy this flick.

Power to the Author!

Atonement.

–noun. satisfaction or reparation for a wrong or injury; amends.

I have seen this film, and I loved it. Despite Keira Knightley and her overpowering jut on the bottom half of her face. Her underbite makes the smoking look simulatneously natural and staged, if that is indeed possible.

Compensating for KK and her jaw is the oh-so-lovely James McAvoy (oh my!). And That Green Dress. I don't often wish to be super thin or super rich, but looking at that dress makes me want both. Because you can't have one without the other.

Generally I am not a huge fan of the multiperspectived narratives. Sure they can be done well. Run Lola Run is nothing short of brilliant, but that is more about multiple perspectives in time. Magnolia, the pin up film of the multinarratived tale just shits me. What with Tom Cruise and the frogs. I never got how so many film buffs like it so much.

Atonement the film shifts in charater perspective and in temporal frame. And it does so cohesively and with style. It has a fantastic score, with the digetic bleeding into the non, to tie in the shifts and keep a strong sense of self-awareness to the story telling. The film doesn't let you get too lost in the narrative, and I mean that in a good way. The novel doesn't introduce this self-reflexivity until the epilogue.

What with having read the novel after seeing the film (by a number of years), it is Keira, James, Vanessa Redgrave and the cast from Joe Wright's film that I see, rather than the casting of my own creation. Which I usually don't enjoy as much as my own imagination's version. But in this instance I got to spend more time alone with Mr McAvoy under my doona, so I didn't mind too much.

The form of the novel give the idea of The Author As God more weight than the film does. The notion that a writer can atone for their mistakes through their work makes more sense, and has more power in the reading than it does on the silver screen, with Vanessa Redgrave playing just another character reading words that someone wrote for her. Ian McEwan himself has scribed these words about the cathartic processes of writing himself. And sure, he was never a 13 year old girl, and so it is doubtful his actions directly mirror Briony's. But what mistakes has he rewritten? And the other author's of the world?

While there are whole tracts of description - of war, of the grounds, of the hospital - that I found dull and emotionless or repetetive, it was just as easy to slide over them to the real story of the characters.

After putting down the finished book, it was one of those reading experiences where I felt sad. Not just because Robbie & co didn't get their happy ending in real life, but also because I had finished, and now it was time for me to leave Cee and Robbie and Briony, and get back to the world of reality. With no green dress.

BoDra... On A Friday???

Subtitle: It's met its match


Yes, yes, I know the Bonnet Drama's place is reserved for Sunday night, but they are bringing back Inspector Frenchface in my chosen ABC timeslot. This would be my unimpressed face.

And seeing as I am working down at the Boy Factory tomorrow, I felt the need to do something to fill some beautiful and rare hours of solitude. So I hired The Duchess.

I have never been the biggest fan of Keira Knightly. She is a bit too pouty and shouty for my liking. Her posh accent and complete absence of boobs does not endear her in the slightest. Give me a Portman or a Johannsen any day of the week.

And then there is her jaw. In a previous place of employment, I was arguing about the extreme size of KK's jaw, and as proof turned to Google (how did arguements get solved before???) to find that someone had written a BLOG by KK's jaw. The link of http://keiraknightleysjaw.com/ still exists, but it no longer contains the musings and diary entries of the lower part of KK's face.


Seriously, it is huge.

A discussion of her jaw, its size and angle QUITE SERIOUSLY also appears on a site that describes itself as "A site for square jaw women admirers, at last !!" (seriously, who lets these people on the internet?? ). So the accusations squared at me (pun entirely intended) about my unfeasible obsession with the Pirate's Girlfriend's jaw are supported by other internet based lunatics. Which, come to think of it, seems to be a less-than-solid defence for my own sanity, but let us move on.

The Duchess was as expected, a bodicy tale of a young woman born out of time. A woman of as great an influence as could be in those days. And quite the 17th century fashionista. With the tiny waist, the bustle and the 2 foot wig with another 4 foot of feather on top... Wayne Cooper's bean poles wouldn't have the strength! The spesh features tell me that this particular Duchess of Devonshire (I have felt like eating scones all night!) was quite the tabloid celeb in her time. The story was a mite predictable, what with the arranged marriage, and the manners, and the domineering mother, and the greasy philandering husband.

And of course there is the delicious affair that she has, going against Hubby Ralph and Too-Tighted-Corseted Mother. She not so secretly snogs him in the park, then romps around Bath leaving The Duke with his Mistress back in London.

Her little bit on the side, destined from the opening scene is the very scrummy Dominic Cooper, playing the soon-to-be PM. Not to go all Antonia Quirkey actor man obsessive, but he is more than a little bit yummy. Since History Boys. Mmmh. (He just might have to be my next Video Ezy Stalking Victim. Note To Self)
Hmmm.

But again, I digress!

Throughout the film, I was trying to get emersed and lose myself in the storyline, but all I kept thinking (aside from 'where are this woman's boobs??) was "has her jaw gotten smaller?". Maybe Keira was born out of time too. Maybe she was meant to be living in the 1650s, with the giant wigs and headpieces that balance out her face. Turns out, when KK has on 5 foot of fake hair, her jaw looks like its in proportion!