Bright Star

I'm a sucker for movies, especially movies about writers, writing, or books. So I was really excited when Jane Campion's film, Bright Star, the story of the romance between John Keats and Fanny Brawne, was released on DVD.

The film is primarily a romance, but it was inspiring to be reminded of the power of the written word in life, in relationships. The high points of the story, as well as the depths to which it plunges, are catapulted forth by something very simple: a letter. As writers (actually, even as a letter-writer!) we have to remember the power we have to change lives through words alone.

Back to the movie, it was, simply put, gorgeous. Its images and scenes alone are enough to justify watching it...and the acting, wow. There is a moment towards the end where Mrs. Brawne gives her permission to Fanny to be engaged to John--no dialogue, no show, just the slightest twitch of her mouth and nod of her head. "Showing not telling" at its best. You can completely see the emotion and struggle in Mrs. Brawne's heart, but she doesn't need dialogue to express this.

Finally, very randomly, I thought Fanny's sewing and clothes-design was wicked cool. Though I was familiar with Fanny and John's real-life romance, I never knew that Fanny was a seamstress, and a good one, too. It was refreshing to see a movie portray something so often put down as the enslavement of the female sex as a talent, a skill, something really amazing and worthwhile--and the filming of the stitching itself is spectacular and art-worthy. I wish I could sew now, though I think I need to learn to live without sleep if I'm ever to have time for all the beautiful, worthy things I wish I could do. For now I'll stick to writing.

Best lines:

Fanny: I still don't know how to work out a poem.

Keats: A poem needs understanding through the senses. The point of diving into a lake is not immediately to swim to the shore but to be in the lake, to luxuriate in the sensation of water. You do not work the lake out, it is a experience beyond thought. Poetry soothes and emboldens the soul to accept the mystery.

Sammy: Have you got John Keats's poem book?

Toots: My sister has met the author and she wants to read it for herself to see if he's an idiot or not.

Brown: But, if the princess has abandoned the dwarf, can we not keep his love speech?

Brown: If Mr. Keats and myself are strolling in the meadow, lounging on the sofa, or staring into the wall, do not presume we're not working. Doing nothing is the musing of the poet.