Florence Foster Jenkins: Why Can't I Hate Oscarbait?

Originally written 8/19/2016.

At a certain point in Hollywood’s mired history, it decided to gauge production workers’ worth by the number of gold statuettes they could accrue in an annual ceremony they throw to celebrate themselves in an orgasmic climax of narcissism. This is a long way of saying that I despise the Academy Awards and what they stand for. I am particularly disgusted by films that, though worth-while in their own right, are clearly appealing to the academy voters in an effort to raise the net worth of the principal performers and auteurs by one Oscar. Despite my loathing for these types of movies, it is an undeniable truth that most of these movies are simply that good. ‘Florence Foster Jenkins’ falls neatly into this category.

Based on a true story, the film begins by introducing the titular character played by Meryl Streep, a woman whose name is practically synonymous with ‘nomination.’ Mrs. Jenkins is a syphilis-stricken, wealthy socialite in the 1940s who, along with her doting husband St. Clair (Hugh Grant), owns and hosts a club for opera connoisseurs in New York City. As her debilitating illness further destroys her body and life, she elects to try and make a triumphant comeback to the stage after decades of silence. To this effect, she hires soft-spoken and effeminate piano ingenue McMoon (Simon Helberg) to help her practice, at which point a gaping hole in her plan is made painfully clear: Florence sings like a mutilated alley cat.

However, she is surrounded by amicable souls who assure her that she is more than competent and it is not long before she insists that she is ready to perform live. At this point, it’s up to St. Clair and McMoon to allow Florence to fulfill her dream while also controlling her audience and press to maintain the illusion of her talent. This is made all the more difficult by Florence’s philosophy that music is for everyone and her decisive moral responsibility to entertain rowdy troops returning from World War II. Along for the ride is Agnes (Nina Arianda), a brazen newcomer to the social scene, Kathleen (Rebecca Ferguson), St. Clair’s reasonably limited mistress, and Earl Wilson (Christian McKay), an incorruptible critic.

The story of the movie is very sound, pun very much intended. The script is tight and the individual beats are very flowing and natural. No scene seems unimportant and all character interactions are meaningful. The setting is also very spot on. The movie truly captures the look and feel on war-time New York, from tight shots of dusty alleyways to large, sweeping views of Carnage Hall. The score ranges from rag-time swing tunes to grand operatic arias but never strays from the sounds of the 1940s. It might not always be beautiful, but it is always authentic, which is more or less the point of the movie overall.

But the true claim to fame in this movie is the acting. Streep will undoubtedly go down in history as one of if not the best actresses of her generation, and while this isn’t going to be at the top of her resume, she does showcase why she is afforded such a title. Florence appears like a one-note character on the surface, but she hides a deep-seated pain and inner turmoil that is told largely through other characters or through subtext. It takes an actress of Streep’s caliber to play such a role with the respect and depth it deserves and she does a stellar job. This is particularly impressive considering she also does Florence’s horrible singing as closely as possible, an outstanding accomplishment considering her varied history with music and musical roles.

Surprisingly, Hugh Grant stands out as thespian force the be reckoned with here. For a man known for his roles in comedies and romances, Grant delivers what might be the performance of his career as St. Clair. His love for Florence is so devout and true that his extra-marital affair is intensely treacherous, but as the film goes on and the peculiar predicament he shares with his wife becomes more clear, it morphs into a shockingly understandable arrangement. Still, you can see how desperate Grant is to care for and protect the woman he loves, whether it’s by supporting her horrible singing or making insane business deals to maintain her reputation. Not a single expression is without a believably high dose of affection and the speed and determination with which Grant is willing to work for Florence proves that he’s not just a lovable goofball.

In a similar fashion is Helberg. McMoon is a difficult character to play in that not only is he a light and floaty role, but he is the only main character allowed to openly acknowledge Florence’s lack of talent. As such, he stands as a voice for the audience in incredulity at the situation. The general situation and Helberg’s performance can occasionally and unfortunately remove one from the experience of the movie, but ultimately is a boon for the film.

McMoon serves as a perfect foil to Florence. Whereas she is a weak-bodied woman with a deep-seated passion for music and no ability to produce it, he is a young and virile man who clearly enjoys music, but his passion is clearly for his own ambition and the furthering of his career. She lives in an opulent penthouse, he in a run-down and dusty apartment. She is forte, he is mezzo-piano, polar opposites that attract. In this aspect, Helberg is the perfect casting choice considering that he is seemingly the opposite of Streep, but his performance goes beyond that. One of the most powerful scenes in the movie involves Florence visiting McMoon’s apartment while St. Clair is having an affair. There, she subtly admits that she knows of his affairs, reveals symptoms of her illness, and reaches a near breaking point where she almost comes to terms with and understands her horrible singing voice. While Streep can be trusted to carry such a moment, it is refreshing to see Helberg able to match her in emotional range while also doing a soft, high-pitched voice.

The supporting roles are also done very well. McKay has only a few short scenes, but he makes his voice heard as a supposed defender of good taste and quality music. Kathleen is an interesting character to portray as she is both understanding of St. Clair and Florence’s unique situation, but also cannot abide being a simple side girl, and Ferguson perfectly captures both her genuine affections and impatient insistences. Arianda stands out the strongest among the secondary players, possibly for her defined character arc, possibly because her brassy New York accent clashes with all the other voices in the film while also sounding very reasonable, possibly because her status in the hierarchy portrayed in 1940s New York allows her to walk both sides of the social track, but whatever the reason, I do hope she gets recognition for her performance.

The only place where the film truly stumbles is the tone. On one hand, it seems to be an uplifting tale of passion overcoming the dichotomy of good and bad art for the sake of the enjoyment thereof. On the other hand, it is somewhat mean spirited in the general public’s and even Helberg’s derivative enjoyment from her horrible singing. That is part of the story, that St. Clair has to hide this aspect of her publicity from her, but the film’s reliance on it and in particular it’s portrayal of the military as a gang of drunken hooligans who do not appreciate Florence’s self-sacrifice gives it an almost violently negative edge that deters from the overall quality and moral of the film.

In short, this is the quintessential Oscar bait film. It features actors from a variety of backgrounds giving definitive and human performances, is about a true and uplifting tale of someone overcoming the odds, and above all is actually a good movie. To be sure, my bias against such movies cannot allow me to deny that this is actually a very valuable film and certainly worth the price of admission. I just wish that was my initial thought upon leaving the theater instead of “oh they’ll all be getting Oscar nods.” 4/5.

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