Four stars. Rated PG-13, and needlessly, for fleeting suggestive content
By Derrick Bang
It may be Meryl Streep’s movie,
but Simon Helberg very nearly steals the show.
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| Newly hired piano accompanist Cosmé McMoon (Simon Helberg, far left) is about to get a shock, when Florence (Meryl Streep) — under the "guidance" of toadying vocal coach Carlo Edwards (David Haig, far right) — begins to rehearse an operatic aria. Florence's constant companion, St. Clair Bayfield (Hugh Grant), beams indulgently. |
Streep delivers another bravura
star turn as Florence Foster Jenkins, a truly American original who dominated a
slice of New York’s aristocratic music scene from the early 1920s until just
before the end of World War II. Had she been content to remain a mere patron of
the arts, it’s entirely possible that performance venues — even to this day —
would bear her name.
But Jenkins also fancied herself
an operatic diva, despite having virtually no sense of rhythm or timing, and
possessing a truly lamentable voice that was incapable of pitch or sustained
notes. None of this bothered her — indeed, all indications suggest that she
wasn’t aware (or simply refused to acknowledge) her deficiencies — and she took
pains to ensure that her intimate recitals were attended solely by friends and
hand-picked sycophants.
Occasional published “reviews,”
appearing solely in small newspapers or obscure music publications, were no
more than obsequious puff pieces (which, in at least some cases, she reportedly
wrote herself).
But the charade — if that’s even
the proper term — came to an abrupt end on Oct. 25, 1944, when Jenkins gave her
one and only public performance at no less than Carnegie Hall. That event,
along with a handful of 78-RPM records she made for the Melotone label, forever
defined Jenkins’ life and career.
While the results could be
labeled as tragic or just desserts for unmitigated hubris, director Stephen
Frears and scripter Nicholas Martin obviously didn’t see it that way. Their
buoyant study of Jenkins is giddy, hilarious and unexpectedly poignant: a deferential
depiction of a free spirit who marched to the beat of her own drummer (if
seldom in time).
Streep’s portrayal emphasizes
vulnerability and fragility to a degree that seems at odds with established
fact, but it does serve to make Jenkins more sympathetic. Mostly, though,
Streep revels in this flamboyant, outsized role to a degree than Jenkins
herself would have recognized and encouraged. Streep is loud, brash, stubbornly
ambitious and utterly clueless ... the latter Jenkins’ defining characteristic.
