• Reviews

• All
• Music
• DVDs
• Live
• Cinema
• TV
• Books
• Comic Books
• Video Games

Oct 01, 2024 By Jeremy Arblaster Web Exclusive

London, 1934 and the unmistakable tone of Sir Ian McKellen narrates the opening passage of The Critic, where the esteemed actor plays revered (and feared) theatre critic Jimmy Erskine from The Daily Chronicle. Yet Jimmy finds himself on the downturn with the paper’s established but self-important ‘cultural’ section under fire from a round of layoffs under new boss Viscount Brooke (Mark Strong). The tides are turning around him too. Oswald Mosley’s blackshirts hover around London’s dimly lit, smoky streets, and Jimmy struggles to hide his vivacious homosexuality.

Whilst Jimmy’s acid tongue is mainly regulated to harsh words in black and white – save for the odd whip-smart quip – the atmosphere around him seems to be more toxic. And so, the Chronicle implores Jimmy to “be kinder…a little more beauty, less beast”, in what seems like a thinly veiled but welcome dig at today’s toothless critical landscape made up mostly of self-proclaimed critics and influencers grateful for a press screening and some free goodies. That isn’t to say Jimmy is averse to a free ticket and a meal. Indeed, Jimmy is a true man of the town, whilst continuing to slam the regular target of his ire, the unfortunate actress Nina Land (Gemma Arterton), who happens to be starring in a performance of The White Devil and an upcoming production of Twelfth Night. After another bad review, and at the urging of her mother (Lesley Manville) Nina confronts Jimmy, finding out about his secret life in the process.

Yet there’s no cat-and-mouse game of blackmail. The promising dynamic between scorned B-rate actress and pompous critic is left unexplored in favour of an admittedly on-form McKellen lifting the film’s bland first half with a few zingers. But there’s nothing this strong cast of Brits can do to lift a flat second half. Jimmy’s subsequent downfall is all of his own making and his scrabble to save himself doesn’t match the thrill the film’s score suggests it ought to have. Though his path back to the top ensnares the seemingly decent Viscount Brooke, along with new friend Nina and her ex-lover, the lack of tension renders any collateral damage unaffecting. The film peters out with a bit of a whimper.

That’s not to say the film is without interest. Jimmy’s character, put to page in Curtain Call by Anthony Quinn on which the film is loosely based, is himself a rough sketch of real-life drama critic James Agate, “vigorous and outspoken, and always entertaining”. Agate was said to greatly admire the “power” of his predecessors and sought to position himself in the pantheon of theatrical greats. Jimmy certainly seems to be suffering from the same sense of grandeur, but at times appears more akin to the late theatre critic John Simon, for whom upon his death Variety wrote that “For Simon, toxic negativity wasn’t a tool for reviewing an art form; it was the art form”.

Yet there’s something irresistible about Jimmy’s naïveté, seemingly oblivious to the rapidly changing world around him in the way many of Britain’s old guard were in the years leading up to the Second World War. As the world around him starts to collapse, Jimmy’s survival instincts kick in. But one need only look to Anthony Hopkins in The Remains of the Day to see how the quest for self-preservation against the backdrop of 1930s England can be done in a thrilling and stylish manner. There’s little of that here for The Critic.

More tension could have been unearthed in the jostling for position and prestige amongst London’s thespian elites, but simplicity and brevity – the film clocks in at just over 90 minutes – are the words of the day. In fleshing out Erskine, the surrounding cast made up of dependable stars – Strong, Manville, Arterton et al – are remarkably unremarkable. As a result, it’s a mostly lifeless and forgettable drama, but one that may put a few valuable coins in the coffers of independent cinemas striving to stay afloat.

Author rating: 4/10