One really has to give director Martin Scorsese some credit for stepping outside of his comfort zone of mobsters and brutality to take on the task of rendering Edith Wharton's stodgy prose into a watchable drama. Unfortunately, the task appears to be beyond him.
The Age of Innocence is Wharton's exploration into the finer details of New York high society circa the late 19th century. The focal character is attorney Newland Archer (played here by Daniel Day-Lewis), who is the walking personification of pristine high society. He is engaged to be married to the oh-so-acceptable May Welland (Winona Ryder), but then meets her "scandalous" cousin, the Countess Olenska (Michelle Pfeiffer), a black sheep now that she has separated from her husband. Suddenly Newland's heart is all atwitter and he finds himself willing to risk his reputation and social standing to pursue her.
The central romance is strangely missing any romance, much less passion. Scorsese seems far more enamored of the set design, costumes and fancy finery, then he is with the people at the heart of the action. The majority of the people seem anemic, with possibly the exception of a feisty Miriam Margoyles, who seems far more scandalous than Pfeiffer with her loud and oddly hilarious outbursts. Lots of time is spent documenting the dinnerware, etiquette and bearing of the elites, to the point where one starts to cast longing gazes at their watch. And in case you don't get it, Scorsese has decided to include mind-numbingly obvious narration from the cultured tones of Joanne Woodward. Woodward's narration becomes increasingly intrusive to the point where it not only tells us that someone walks across the room (as though we did not witness it), but gives us insight into what people are thinking, as if this is not something the performances should be doing.
When not doting on the lovely china, draperies and lace doilies, Scorsese employs rather annoying camera tricks to open or close scenes, and gives us endless montages of hothouse flowers ripening in stop motion - to hint at the emotion roiling beneath the surface of these well-dressed mannequins. Oh, the depth!
Some of the acting is quite fine, even with the restrictions placed on it by the storyline. It is intriguing to watch Day-Lewis portray such an inhibited character as Newland Archer. We have some degree of sympathy for Newland, although he brings a lot of his misery on himself. However, we never have much respect for him, because at heart the character is incredibly weak and allows himself to repeatedly be at the mercy of those around him. Day-Lewis conveys a great deal of the frustration and angst of the character. Unfortunately, one thing that does not get conveyed is the longing and passion of his love for the Countess.
This last is certainly not all Day-Lewis' fault. Pfeiffer's scandalous cousin is such a jaw-dropping bore and played by the usually reliable actress with such lifelessness that it is impossible to understand how she can awaken longing in anyone. Pfeiffer, strangely resembling a young Lucille Ball here, carries herself ramrod straight with a slight air of discomfort, as though she was bothered by hemorrhoids. She delivers her lines either haltingly or breathlessly in a manner that strains patience. Were it not for the incessant reminders, we would detect nothing interesting - much less scandalous - about her. In fact, she hardly seems to be suffering as a pariah at all since she seems to chronically show up at all of the prime spots. Even worse, her character pales in comparison to May Welland, who is supposed to be the duller of the two women.
And here we have another of the film's faults. Winona Ryder is positively radiant as May and delivers one of her last great performances prior to becoming this generation's Hedy Lamarr and forgetting how to act. She does a fantastic job of portraying Archer's still waters run deep fiancée and often seems a far more intriguing love interest. When she senses the attraction between Newland and her cousin, she repeatedly offers him an out to launch his pursuit, which he fails to take her up on. Later, when Newland decides he wants an out at a far more inappropriate time, she does a grand job of insidiously psychologically closing off his paths for escape and ensuring his continued subservience to her, even if he is only going through the motions. Ryder's performance is really quite wonderful here and the fact that one remembers her character far more so than Pfeiffer's indicates a vital flaw in the piece.
Due to so much exposition and pontificating on the backdrops, the film is entirely too long for its slight story and it feels it. By the time it grinds to its predictable and emotionally muted conclusion, one is more than ready for the experience to be over. The final sequence with an older Day-Lewis offered the opportunity to once again meet and continue his relationship with Pfeiffer (with the approval of his now late wife) only to culminate with him sitting dumbfounded on a bench before walking away without meeting her ranks as one of the most pointless codas on a film. Truly, the film would have been more improved had Scorsese ended it following the final confrontation between Day-Lewis and Ryder.
A lovely looking film, but unless you are interested in seeing Scorsese direct a change-of-pace film or have a particular affinity for Wharton's wallows in misery, there is not a lot here to satisfy.
The Age of Innocence is Wharton's exploration into the finer details of New York high society circa the late 19th century. The focal character is attorney Newland Archer (played here by Daniel Day-Lewis), who is the walking personification of pristine high society. He is engaged to be married to the oh-so-acceptable May Welland (Winona Ryder), but then meets her "scandalous" cousin, the Countess Olenska (Michelle Pfeiffer), a black sheep now that she has separated from her husband. Suddenly Newland's heart is all atwitter and he finds himself willing to risk his reputation and social standing to pursue her.
The central romance is strangely missing any romance, much less passion. Scorsese seems far more enamored of the set design, costumes and fancy finery, then he is with the people at the heart of the action. The majority of the people seem anemic, with possibly the exception of a feisty Miriam Margoyles, who seems far more scandalous than Pfeiffer with her loud and oddly hilarious outbursts. Lots of time is spent documenting the dinnerware, etiquette and bearing of the elites, to the point where one starts to cast longing gazes at their watch. And in case you don't get it, Scorsese has decided to include mind-numbingly obvious narration from the cultured tones of Joanne Woodward. Woodward's narration becomes increasingly intrusive to the point where it not only tells us that someone walks across the room (as though we did not witness it), but gives us insight into what people are thinking, as if this is not something the performances should be doing.
When not doting on the lovely china, draperies and lace doilies, Scorsese employs rather annoying camera tricks to open or close scenes, and gives us endless montages of hothouse flowers ripening in stop motion - to hint at the emotion roiling beneath the surface of these well-dressed mannequins. Oh, the depth!
Some of the acting is quite fine, even with the restrictions placed on it by the storyline. It is intriguing to watch Day-Lewis portray such an inhibited character as Newland Archer. We have some degree of sympathy for Newland, although he brings a lot of his misery on himself. However, we never have much respect for him, because at heart the character is incredibly weak and allows himself to repeatedly be at the mercy of those around him. Day-Lewis conveys a great deal of the frustration and angst of the character. Unfortunately, one thing that does not get conveyed is the longing and passion of his love for the Countess.
This last is certainly not all Day-Lewis' fault. Pfeiffer's scandalous cousin is such a jaw-dropping bore and played by the usually reliable actress with such lifelessness that it is impossible to understand how she can awaken longing in anyone. Pfeiffer, strangely resembling a young Lucille Ball here, carries herself ramrod straight with a slight air of discomfort, as though she was bothered by hemorrhoids. She delivers her lines either haltingly or breathlessly in a manner that strains patience. Were it not for the incessant reminders, we would detect nothing interesting - much less scandalous - about her. In fact, she hardly seems to be suffering as a pariah at all since she seems to chronically show up at all of the prime spots. Even worse, her character pales in comparison to May Welland, who is supposed to be the duller of the two women.
And here we have another of the film's faults. Winona Ryder is positively radiant as May and delivers one of her last great performances prior to becoming this generation's Hedy Lamarr and forgetting how to act. She does a fantastic job of portraying Archer's still waters run deep fiancée and often seems a far more intriguing love interest. When she senses the attraction between Newland and her cousin, she repeatedly offers him an out to launch his pursuit, which he fails to take her up on. Later, when Newland decides he wants an out at a far more inappropriate time, she does a grand job of insidiously psychologically closing off his paths for escape and ensuring his continued subservience to her, even if he is only going through the motions. Ryder's performance is really quite wonderful here and the fact that one remembers her character far more so than Pfeiffer's indicates a vital flaw in the piece.
Due to so much exposition and pontificating on the backdrops, the film is entirely too long for its slight story and it feels it. By the time it grinds to its predictable and emotionally muted conclusion, one is more than ready for the experience to be over. The final sequence with an older Day-Lewis offered the opportunity to once again meet and continue his relationship with Pfeiffer (with the approval of his now late wife) only to culminate with him sitting dumbfounded on a bench before walking away without meeting her ranks as one of the most pointless codas on a film. Truly, the film would have been more improved had Scorsese ended it following the final confrontation between Day-Lewis and Ryder.
A lovely looking film, but unless you are interested in seeing Scorsese direct a change-of-pace film or have a particular affinity for Wharton's wallows in misery, there is not a lot here to satisfy.