‘The Bookshop’ follows Florence Green (Emily Mortimer) and her struggles to open a bookshop in the small seaside town of Hardborough, Suffolk. The film is adapted from the Penelope Fitzgerald book of the same name and stays true to the source material. Mortimer is joined by Bill Nighy and Patricia Clarkson, among others, in an impressive cast that struggles to breathe life into a lacklustre script.
Florence Green is an isolated character. Recently widowed and stuck in an unforgiving town, we meet her as she’s struggling to find direction in her life. She has a voracious love of books and their ability to transport. It’s this love that helps her realise her dream of opening a bookshop, but this is challenged every step of the way by Mrs Gamart (Patricia Clarkson) and her desire to take ownership of the same property Florence wants for the bookshop. Her struggles find help in the unusual shape of Edmund Brundish (Bill Nighy) and in turn, engage a detached town.
The various pieces that make up this film all have individual merit and interest: dreams realised, love from difficult beginnings, sociopathic matriarchs chasing ludicrous whims to ridiculous degrees. All are the go to of solid filmmaking but, as a whole, they underwhelm instead of elevate. The key performances are good (often impressive) but they’re found on the wrong side of a losing battle, which is perfectly encapsulated by the choice to use a narrator throughout. Maybe we’re meant to feel as if we’re reading the novel, but we’re left with a feeling that the director didn’t trust her performers.
The main issue, however, is the lack of imagination. Whilst it’s fine for a film to lean on common themes and narrative points, it’s disappointing for them to be so clearly signposted. This lack of imagination is most glaring in the drawing of the characters, particularly Florence; whilst we’re shown her dream, we’re never convinced of it. Similarly, the drive Mrs Gamart shows for upheaval is never truly explained, making her a petty presence throughout, which is at odds with the strong performance from Clarkson. In both instances, it feels like a lack of background detail hamstrings each character from truly engaging the audience. This is the opposite, marginally, for Mr Brundish as we’re briefly shown behind the curtain of his history and, in turn, his character becomes more rounded and interesting. Whilst this is welcome, it also highlights the areas where such detail is lacking.
More subtle themes are introduced throughout, though they’re rarely followed to any conclusion. ‘Lolita’ is proudly introduced into the community by Florence, though the sexual proclivities it reflects in Milo North (James Lance) are only faintly alluded to which leaves an air of confusion. However, Mr Brundish’s subtle transformation via ‘Fahrenheit 451’ from book burning consumer to defender of knowledge and people is much more rewarding.
Technically, The Bookshop is a strangely made film. Strange often leads to interesting, though here we’re left disorientated. Exquisite gala dinners usually jump from the screen with their grandeur, but we’re left cold when they’re filmed handheld, as done here. It’s possible we’re meant to see this as a representation of the discomfort Florence feels with her grand surroundings, but we’re left focusing on the workings instead of empathising with the central character.
Technical decisions around aspect ratio better serve the narrative, however. The film is screened in Academy Ratio which confines the picture and creates a feeling of claustrophobia for the viewer. This is especially noticeable with external location shots which reflects the dislike Florence has for the town and those against her. In contrast, the ratio makes interior shots more comforting and secure, reflecting those same feelings the bookshop, among others, brings Florence.
‘The Bookshop’ feels like a companion piece to its source novel… in all the wrong ways. We’re left with the feeling that having read the novel would make the viewing more enjoyable which, generally, defeats the purpose of an adaptation altogether. Films are difficult enterprises that demand everything from those making them: time, talent, money, willing. That endeavour should be commended whenever possible which makes it a shame that ‘The Bookshop’ fails to pull its diverse pieces together into a coherent, enjoyable whole.
By Ryan Goodyear
9th May 2018