Oct 062006
 
two reels

Biopic of Beatrix Potter, creator of Peter Rabbit. Miss Potter (Renée Zellweger), an upper-class, thirty-two-year-old spinster, bucks social norms by rejecting unappealing suitors, instead working on her stories and watercolor art of anthropomorphized animals. Although London publishers are uninterested in her book, it is accepted by the Warne brothers, who assign it to their younger brother, Norman (Ewan McGregor), believing that its failure will dissuade him from further work.  Instead, Beatrix and Norman make the book a great success, and fall in love, much to the chagrin of her parents, who don’t want a tradesman in the family.

I can’t deny that Miss Potter is exceedingly well made. Besides Zellweger’s penchant for scrunching up her face, making her look as if her digestion has been “a little off” for a week or two, I can’t find a flaw with it.  Neither did I enjoy it. It wasn’t made for me. Not a single moment was intended to make me smile. The proper audience will be mesmerized, but I won’t be a part of that crowd.

Don’t think for a moment that I’m giving up my claim of being the objective judge of what is good in cinema. Oh no. My taste is still the standard, and the world would be a much better place if everyone shared it. But I am a realist, and understand that there are people out there without my refined appetites. While I glanced repeatedly at my metaphoric watch and shook my head as this semi-pastoral, melodramatic, comedy-romance unfurled, those people will be enchanted.

Who are those people?  Well, I can only specify a few essential qualities of its members, but that should be enough for you to determine if you belong. These people will be utterly lacking in “Y” chromosomes. They will be at least entering puberty, and probably be a good deal older. They will be strangers to cynicism, or at least be able to shut down the darker aspects of their brains. And finally, they must be able to pronounce phrases like “Oh, how cute,” and “That is just adorable” with utter sincerity. For them, Miss Potter is four star (or should I say four bunny) entertainment.

I respect the skills on display. I’m not simply referring to the directing prowess of Chris Noonan, who hasn’t taken the chair since the justly acclaimed Babe, nor the impeccable cinematography of Andrew Dunn and Chris Seager.  Nope, it is the brilliance with which the film manipulates the emotions of the viewer that I bow to. On cue, the audience (that properly chosen audience) will cry, laugh, smile, feel empowered, and clearly enunciate “Oh, how darling.”

The story is pretty standard stuff for a biopic, and relatively true. The focus is on Beatrix Potter’s romance (this is proper Victorian society, so don’t expect anything steamy), her artistry, and on her path toward independence. Her scientific accomplishments are ignored, but then it is hard to build up much emotion about pictures of fungi, no matter how well painted. The one deviation from the norm is the occasional animation of the watercolor animals. It is a clever device to reveal Miss Potter’s imagination, and will certainly produce some of those “how cute” reactions.

Zellweger hides her “American stick insect” figure and obvious assets to dive into her not-too-sexy character. Ewan McGregor is less successful at disguising his natural charm, even under a bushy mustache, but that’s no detriment to the movie, and I suspect the producers intended it that way. Those People (defined above) will be happier with McGregor looking cute as a button, and the makers of this flick know it. Zellweger and McGregor have lost none of the chemistry from their previous pairing, Down With Love.

Might I suggest you get together with ten couples or so, and send half the people off to Miss Potter while the other half stays home to watch Die Hard on DVD. That should please everyone. You’ll have to work out who belongs in each half.

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