Director Simon Stone’s well-seasoned character drama, available via Netflix, is a thoroughly absorbing slice of old-style British filmmaking: a fascinating, fact-based story inhabited by engaging characters, set in England’s luxuriously verdant countryside.
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| After a harrowing reminder that amateur excavation can be quite dangerous, Edith Pretty (Carey Mulligan) makes sure that archaeologist Basil Brown (Ralph Fiennes) has suffered no more than a terrible fright. |
Such mounds were prevalent throughout much of the United Kingdom at this point in time, and it was accepted wisdom that — if they contained anything at all — the contents likely would date back to the Viking era. Edith has no reason to expect otherwise, but even Viking artifacts would be worthy of museum preservation.
She hires local archaeologist/excavator Basil Brown (Ralph Fiennes) to investigate; after surveying the various mounds, he settles on a particularly large one. The digging is arduous, painstaking and slow, even with the help of a few estate workers. As the days and weeks pass, with Edith and her adolescent son Robert (Archie Barnes) taking an active interest — and since Basil is living on the estate — he becomes a welcome part of the family.
That’s no small thing, since the working-class Basil is akin to a servant himself. But Edith clearly gives no thought to that sort of thing: a deliberate contrast to the way Basil is regarded as “lesser” by his archaeological peers, since he’s self-taught after having left school at age 12.
Nothing is quite as condescending as British class snobbery, and Fiennes does a marvelous job of imbuing Basil with quiet dignity and patient resolve, when confronted by it. His deepening bond with Edith and Robert notwithstanding, he also tends toward obsession, ignoring frequent letters from his wife, May (Monica Dolan).
Basil becomes convinced that these Sutton Hoo barrows might pre-date the Viking era (eighth to 11th century): in fact, might be Anglo-Saxon (as early as the fifth century). Naturally, his disdainful colleagues dismiss this notion.
Then Basil finds some iron rivets. A ship’s iron rivets. (Bear in mind, we’re well inland.) Only figures of immense merit — such as kings — were buried with their ships.
And, suddenly, Basil is nearly shoved aside by an official team led by condescending Cambridge archaeologist Charles Phillips (Ken Stott, appropriately stuffy). But it’s Edith’s land, and she calls the shots; she insists that Basil share supervisorial responsibilities, and be allowed to continue digging.
Phillips’ colleagues include Peggy Piggott (Lily James) and her husband, Stuart (Ben Chaplin). Edith also asks her cousin Rory Lomax (Johnny Flynn) to participate, and he becomes the project’s official photographer.
I know what you’re thinking, right about now: Watching people slowly excavate an archaeological site must be about as interesting as waiting for paint to dry. But you’re wrong; Moira Buffini’s deftly crafted screenplay — adapted from John Preston’s 2007 historical novel of the same title — focuses more on these intriguing characters, than on the project itself; the brief “dig sequences” are reserved for key discoveries, which Stone shades in a way that maximizes the excitement of the moment.
As always is the case with well-scripted drama, each of these characters has issues and traumas. The self-absorbed Basil disregards his wife, who worries about him. Edith’s health is fragile; she’s warned by her doctor to avoid stress. Peggy is stuck in a loveless marriage with Stuart, a closeted homosexual: a situation recognized by the ruggedly handsome Rory (this story’s sole fictitious primary character, inserted to add tension to the Peggy/Stuart dynamic).
All this aside, everybody also periodically succumbs to worried glances and mounting dread, given frequent reminders of the war preparations. We know, from our 21st century vantage point, what’s about to come.
Fiennes and Mulligan are captivating, as the bond between Basil and Edith deepens. Fiennes excels at reserved, calmly capable individuals, and he makes Basil the sort of inherently fascinating character you’d love to have as a neighbor, and on whose every word you’d hang.
Mulligan, in turn, radiates intelligence, kindness and fragility; we ache every time Edith winces, while slowly walking with a cane. But vulnerability doesn’t confer weakness, as we’re reminded each time Edith sharply puts Phillips — or anybody else — in his place. And I love the fond smile and quiet warmth that Mulligan displays, when recalling how she and her late husband met and married.
(It should be mentioned that Mulligan, in her mid-30s, is much too young to play Edith Pretty, who was 55 at the time. But that’s movie-making.)
James, almost unrecognized behind jam-jar glasses, deserves more screen time: both because she’s so adept at inhabiting her role, and also because the actual Peggy Piggott was as important to this project as Basil Brown. To be fair, Peggy does get a key moment — as she did, in real life — and James’ wide-eyed astonishment is palpable enough to elicit smiles and cheers from us viewers.
Chaplin’s Stuart is mildly withdrawn, and frequently abashed, but he isn’t an insensitive monster. We can tell he regrets the pain he’s causing his wife, while trying to make the most of his own predicament.
Flynn, recently seen as Mr. Knightley in last year’s marvelous adaption of Jane Austen’s Emma, makes the cheerful Rory a pleasant contrast to the other mostly serious characters. The same is true of young Barnes, whose boyishly enthusiastic Robert Pretty is all manner of excitement and animation.
The lush countryside setting positively glows in cinematographer Mike Eley’s establishing shots, and production designer Maria Djurkovic delivers a strong sense of Edith’s enormous and lavish estate, even though we see only a few rooms within. Stefan Gregory’s piano-based orchestral score — his debut film effort — is as soft and subtle as the characters it supports.
As the film concludes, a final text block is positively heartbreaking: a reminder of the petty and deliberately nasty behavior to which “recognized experts” can resort.
The best historical dramas always send viewers to books and online resources, and this one certainly qualifies. I mean, really … who knew?
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