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![]() The Latest Classic Novel To Hit The Screen Follows The Usual Formula. By Stacey Richter BRITISH ACCENTS, SWEEPING vistas, rustling skirts, squealing pigs, heaving bosoms--it's amazing how consistent period movies are these days. Jude, an adaptation of Thomas Hardy's Jude the Obscure, takes the 19th century, with its surplus of coal smoke and horseshit, and turns it into a pretty, drizzling, sexually tempestuous time when men and women roamed the countryside, getting laid.
Through all of this we are treated to plenty of flesh and plunging bodices. I don't want to sound prudish, but what is it with "arty" period films? It seems like those movies that should be the natural choice to take one's grandmother to turn out to be the ones filled with groping and grunting. Are we that nostalgic for repression? Jude just makes the matter more confusing, because it's a message movie, and the message it delivers is this: The church, and the stringent morality of Victorian times, are malignant forces that crush true love and religious feeling. This is not exactly a hot topic for 1997.
What director Michael Winterbottom excels at, instead, is creating an atmosphere of vague religious resonance. Thus, we have Jude and Sue, with an infant in her arms, being turned away from inn after inn in the pouring rain, resembling nothing less than the holy family. Furthermore, despite the rhetoric against the church, morality, etc., it does seem like the characters in this story are basically punished for having sex, and that their happiest times coincide with periods of chastity. I found all this odd and annoying and as pointless as any action movie. It seemed like Jude wasn't even trying to have any relevance for our times, aside from providing some literary value, which would obviously be better served by reading the book (something I haven't done).
Despite its pointlessness, Jude isn't really all that bad. It's
well shot, with brief, pithy little scenes that accumulate nicely
to tell the story. Occasionally Winterbottom allows himself to
slide into hopeless sentimentality, as when he cuts together a
little collage of all of Sue's happy times (the cinematic equivalent
of the '70s ditty, Seasons in the Sun) so that we can see
just how far she's fallen. Besides these few brief digressions,
the film is pretty and well-paced, and if you get bored with the
English lit angle, just remember the film is "rated R for
strong sexuality and intense depictions of death and birth."
Something racy is just around the corner.
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