" On Chesil Beach" stands on the strength of the book by Ian McEwan, who is also the author of the screenplay. The writer has already seen his works win the screen on several occasions. The most famous adaptation is "Atonement (2007)", from his book. And the most recent one, "The Children Act (2017)". The romantic plot of "On Chesil Beach" carries the weight of regret for a wrong decision that defined the rest of the couple's lives. A theme that, by the way, is also present, with another variation, in "Atonement".
The narrative structure represents another strength of the film. The wedding day at the hotel, in 1962, occupies two thirds of its length, but it is interspersed with flashbacks provoked by some point in that meeting that refers to a specific memory. In this way, we get to know who these protagonists are, from different social classes and very peculiar families (especially Edward's). And, also, how their relationship developed into the love that brought them together so early in marriage. But fear of the unknown leads to Florence's own suspicion that she is frigid. Meanwhile, the same fear pushes Edward to admit that it's all the bride's problem, when he, too, doesn't know what to do with a woman in bed. The final two thirds happen years later. The first excerpt in 1975 only shows Edward. He is a salesman at a record store who accidentally meets Florence's daughter, whom he never sees again. The second, in 2007, reveals the last meeting between the two, who regret the true love that they didn't know how to assume for their whole lives. In these two epilogues, the script avoids words to confirm this sense of loss and lamentation. Thus, he is right, because everything is very evident without the need for verbal expression, and, moreover, more sensitizing.
Sixth film adaptation of a work by Ian McEwan, this is a tale about the intricacies of what is intimate and unspeakable, the deep scars of a distorted or traumatic sexual experience and the meanings, so often socially determined, attributed to these and other experiences. . As stated in the first lines of the novel, Florence (Saoirse Ronan) and Edward (Billy Howle), "both virgins on their wedding night", "lived at a time when a conversation about sexual difficulties, which is never easy, was simply impossible". The touchstone of the plot is precisely the conservative and repressive social context of England in the 60s (pre-sexual revolution), the generational antagonism and the rigidity of gender roles, as well as the consequences and relational impact not only of a unspeakable trauma (you'll have to read the book), but from class differences in the mental representations of sexuality - for men, an urgency often only possible through marriage, for women an obligation or ritual for fulfilling the marital norm, and in the in the case of the protagonists, a complete lack of understanding of the mechanisms of love enactment and the dimensions of desire. The combination seems to work at first, but after the marriage it becomes evident that the clash of personalities will cause an inevitable conflict. This conflict is further exacerbated by the fact that Florence is hiding a secret that explains her frigid attitude. The secret itself is never properly explained to us, but it is easy to understand what it is about thanks to the insinuations present in one of the most important moments of the film: the non-consummation of the marriage between the two.
Until that moment, "On Chesil Beach" is a rather apathetic film at all levels, but the context that is given becomes, even so, important to understand the relationship between both and the conclusion of the film. There are, however, many things in this first act perfectly dispensable that, unfortunately, remove pace, elegance and emotion from the overall story. What is certain is that from the great sequence of the film, the aforementioned non-consummation of marriage, the plot awakens to a new, more serious, dramatic and emotional course. The dialogues that follow are masterful and the final outcome is powerful and extremely moving, going even further than the book itself.
To begin with, the film is a beautiful reconstruction of the period, with evident care in the treatment of details (environment, mise-en-scène, wardrobe and photography). But how to transpose the complex and intimate character of the book to the cinema screen, without falling into the facilitation of non-participant narration or the classic devices of a novel? Director Dominic Cooke got around the difficulty by using his experience in theatrical staging to direct his actors, closely following the structure of the work and, following a certain British cinematographic tradition, maintaining its serious, leisurely, almost austere spirit. Saoirse Ronan and Billy Howle embody their roles with delicacy and restraint, leaning less on the spoken word and valuing a more cutaneous interpretation of the characters elaborated in the book. The emotional thickness of the two figures is therefore crucial to convey the film's message. Moreover, beyond the lack of context for the situation that serves as its motto, Edward and Florence's biggest problem lies in the first sentence of the novel (quoted above): if only they had a shared lexicon that would allow them to discuss what was happening. As they don't have it, only silence and other subtleties can translate what's in their soul. The mastery of the interpretations still manages to harmonize the temporal jumps, which on the screen (unlike the book) seem somewhat forced - with the central scene interrupted by constant jumps.
The narrative progresses between flashbacks that add little to the two main characters and others that have the potential to do so, but are not developed. These time jumps are not clear. In some, the protagonists seem to be the narrators of that story, in others they seem to be memories that are not shared aloud. The reason why that tension exists ends up being revealed, but never its cause; although there appear to be clues in one of several flashbacks, nothing is concrete. Those scenes that state the obvious, those close-ups, constant and unnecessary, of restless hands or tapping feet that portray an exaggerated nervousness and are the dead weight that prevent a narrative, with a strong potential, from developing. Edward, a boy without possessions and with a very pragmatic view of life, marries Florence, a suburban girl who plays the violin and with a sense of emancipation from the authoritarian figures in her life, whether at the family or political level. This dualistic relationship between these characters, with a personality with so much to offer, ends there, for that possibility. In the last act, passing close to us in time, and suddenly and fatally invaded by a displaced sentimentality as ridiculous and clumsy as the makeup with which they tried to age the characters of Edward and Florence, only managing to make Billy Howle and Saoirse Ronan - above all him - look like fugitives from a B-horror movie. One catastrophe, the one at the center of the story, was enough. But they had to spoil everything, forcing the tears and with one of the clumsiest characterization jobs in recent years in cinema, which ends up disturbing the experience.
The reflection centered on the third act of the book, accelerating the pace of the narrative to bring the characters up to date and reveal their destiny, is the great challenge of the film version. The spirit of the work is somewhat lost when the screenplay (written by McEwan himself) is forced to include situations absent from the text to ensure its key reading. This will be one of the great challenges of cinema - to be a craftsman of images, as literature is of words. From this point of view, "On Chesil Beach" falls short of "Desire and (the last film adaptation of a novel by McEwan), while still being a worthy adaptation of an extraordinary book, sensitive and compassionate, far from the clichés from the melodrama.
"On Chesil Beach" marks Dominic Cooke's acting debut. Without the necessary witticisms, he makes raccording errors and applies abrupt cuts within scenes that break the flow of the narrative. In certain passages, such as the final discussion on the beach, he approximates the scene to a play, letting the actors express themselves in a tone that is more coherent on stage than on screen. Remnants, perhaps, of his previous work as director of a broadcast of a theatrical presentation. But, in some other moments, he manages to build well-elaborated framings. For example, the last scene, which resumes the separation on the beach, keeping Edward in the foreground on the right, while Florence walks towards the left, further and further away from him. The camera moves laterally, to keep the girl in the frame longer, as if she wanted to avoid moving away. The story of "On Chesil Beach" looks authentic. Delicately deals with the inexperience of young people who love each other, but are not lovers, and even surprises with the far from ideal outcome for them.
The narrative structure represents another strength of the film. The wedding day at the hotel, in 1962, occupies two thirds of its length, but it is interspersed with flashbacks provoked by some point in that meeting that refers to a specific memory. In this way, we get to know who these protagonists are, from different social classes and very peculiar families (especially Edward's). And, also, how their relationship developed into the love that brought them together so early in marriage. But fear of the unknown leads to Florence's own suspicion that she is frigid. Meanwhile, the same fear pushes Edward to admit that it's all the bride's problem, when he, too, doesn't know what to do with a woman in bed. The final two thirds happen years later. The first excerpt in 1975 only shows Edward. He is a salesman at a record store who accidentally meets Florence's daughter, whom he never sees again. The second, in 2007, reveals the last meeting between the two, who regret the true love that they didn't know how to assume for their whole lives. In these two epilogues, the script avoids words to confirm this sense of loss and lamentation. Thus, he is right, because everything is very evident without the need for verbal expression, and, moreover, more sensitizing.
Sixth film adaptation of a work by Ian McEwan, this is a tale about the intricacies of what is intimate and unspeakable, the deep scars of a distorted or traumatic sexual experience and the meanings, so often socially determined, attributed to these and other experiences. . As stated in the first lines of the novel, Florence (Saoirse Ronan) and Edward (Billy Howle), "both virgins on their wedding night", "lived at a time when a conversation about sexual difficulties, which is never easy, was simply impossible". The touchstone of the plot is precisely the conservative and repressive social context of England in the 60s (pre-sexual revolution), the generational antagonism and the rigidity of gender roles, as well as the consequences and relational impact not only of a unspeakable trauma (you'll have to read the book), but from class differences in the mental representations of sexuality - for men, an urgency often only possible through marriage, for women an obligation or ritual for fulfilling the marital norm, and in the in the case of the protagonists, a complete lack of understanding of the mechanisms of love enactment and the dimensions of desire. The combination seems to work at first, but after the marriage it becomes evident that the clash of personalities will cause an inevitable conflict. This conflict is further exacerbated by the fact that Florence is hiding a secret that explains her frigid attitude. The secret itself is never properly explained to us, but it is easy to understand what it is about thanks to the insinuations present in one of the most important moments of the film: the non-consummation of the marriage between the two.
Until that moment, "On Chesil Beach" is a rather apathetic film at all levels, but the context that is given becomes, even so, important to understand the relationship between both and the conclusion of the film. There are, however, many things in this first act perfectly dispensable that, unfortunately, remove pace, elegance and emotion from the overall story. What is certain is that from the great sequence of the film, the aforementioned non-consummation of marriage, the plot awakens to a new, more serious, dramatic and emotional course. The dialogues that follow are masterful and the final outcome is powerful and extremely moving, going even further than the book itself.
To begin with, the film is a beautiful reconstruction of the period, with evident care in the treatment of details (environment, mise-en-scène, wardrobe and photography). But how to transpose the complex and intimate character of the book to the cinema screen, without falling into the facilitation of non-participant narration or the classic devices of a novel? Director Dominic Cooke got around the difficulty by using his experience in theatrical staging to direct his actors, closely following the structure of the work and, following a certain British cinematographic tradition, maintaining its serious, leisurely, almost austere spirit. Saoirse Ronan and Billy Howle embody their roles with delicacy and restraint, leaning less on the spoken word and valuing a more cutaneous interpretation of the characters elaborated in the book. The emotional thickness of the two figures is therefore crucial to convey the film's message. Moreover, beyond the lack of context for the situation that serves as its motto, Edward and Florence's biggest problem lies in the first sentence of the novel (quoted above): if only they had a shared lexicon that would allow them to discuss what was happening. As they don't have it, only silence and other subtleties can translate what's in their soul. The mastery of the interpretations still manages to harmonize the temporal jumps, which on the screen (unlike the book) seem somewhat forced - with the central scene interrupted by constant jumps.
The narrative progresses between flashbacks that add little to the two main characters and others that have the potential to do so, but are not developed. These time jumps are not clear. In some, the protagonists seem to be the narrators of that story, in others they seem to be memories that are not shared aloud. The reason why that tension exists ends up being revealed, but never its cause; although there appear to be clues in one of several flashbacks, nothing is concrete. Those scenes that state the obvious, those close-ups, constant and unnecessary, of restless hands or tapping feet that portray an exaggerated nervousness and are the dead weight that prevent a narrative, with a strong potential, from developing. Edward, a boy without possessions and with a very pragmatic view of life, marries Florence, a suburban girl who plays the violin and with a sense of emancipation from the authoritarian figures in her life, whether at the family or political level. This dualistic relationship between these characters, with a personality with so much to offer, ends there, for that possibility. In the last act, passing close to us in time, and suddenly and fatally invaded by a displaced sentimentality as ridiculous and clumsy as the makeup with which they tried to age the characters of Edward and Florence, only managing to make Billy Howle and Saoirse Ronan - above all him - look like fugitives from a B-horror movie. One catastrophe, the one at the center of the story, was enough. But they had to spoil everything, forcing the tears and with one of the clumsiest characterization jobs in recent years in cinema, which ends up disturbing the experience.
The reflection centered on the third act of the book, accelerating the pace of the narrative to bring the characters up to date and reveal their destiny, is the great challenge of the film version. The spirit of the work is somewhat lost when the screenplay (written by McEwan himself) is forced to include situations absent from the text to ensure its key reading. This will be one of the great challenges of cinema - to be a craftsman of images, as literature is of words. From this point of view, "On Chesil Beach" falls short of "Desire and (the last film adaptation of a novel by McEwan), while still being a worthy adaptation of an extraordinary book, sensitive and compassionate, far from the clichés from the melodrama.
"On Chesil Beach" marks Dominic Cooke's acting debut. Without the necessary witticisms, he makes raccording errors and applies abrupt cuts within scenes that break the flow of the narrative. In certain passages, such as the final discussion on the beach, he approximates the scene to a play, letting the actors express themselves in a tone that is more coherent on stage than on screen. Remnants, perhaps, of his previous work as director of a broadcast of a theatrical presentation. But, in some other moments, he manages to build well-elaborated framings. For example, the last scene, which resumes the separation on the beach, keeping Edward in the foreground on the right, while Florence walks towards the left, further and further away from him. The camera moves laterally, to keep the girl in the frame longer, as if she wanted to avoid moving away. The story of "On Chesil Beach" looks authentic. Delicately deals with the inexperience of young people who love each other, but are not lovers, and even surprises with the far from ideal outcome for them.