Washington City Paper
Brief Reviews
THE HOUSE OF MIRTH
From the Washington City Paper
by Joel E. Siegel
In her superb 1905 novel, Edith Wharton mocks the self-indulgence and cruelty of New York’s upper classes while charting the gradual, irreversible descent of Lily Bart, a striking young woman who lacks the means to survive in a milieu where money alone confers status. In his screen adaptation, English writer-director Terence Davies, who built his reputation on two dark, painstaking autobiographical mood pieces (Distant Voices, Still Lives and The Long Day Closes), predictably emphasizes pathos over social satire. He conflates and, in some cases, omits some of the novel’s secondary characters and incidents, but his uncompromising style remains intact–measured pacing, formalized camera movements, painterly compositions, and protracted exploration of faces. Gillian Anderson lacks the spellbinding beauty that gains Lily access to a world that would otherwise shun her, and occasionally struggles with Wharton’s literate, faithfully transposed dialogue. But she connects with and internalizes Lily’s plight so profoundly that, by the film’s ending, she puts to rest one’s reservations about her casting. Apart from Eric Stoltz’s competent but somewhat callow performance as the only man who loves and understands Lily, the supporting cast is impressive, notably Laura Linney, who barely conceals malevolence beneath a vinegary smile as Lily’s nemesis, and Elizabeth McGovern, who portrays a compassionate socialite attempting to cushion Lily’s fall. Davies‘ austere style lacks the sparkle of Wharton’s prose, in which every paragraph offers up penetrating insights and treasurable turns of phrase. But viewers willing to adjust their inner clocks to accommodate the filmmaker’s deliberate pacing will be rewarded with moments of shattering emotional intensity.