Gideon's Daughter

There's always a lot to enjoy in any Stephen Polliakoff film: striking use of images and music, an interest in big questions, and the director's lack of fear of letting things run at a slow pace where this makes the story, and atmosphere, more absorbing. But there's also always a journey into a stylised world, and a tendency to set up a false dichotomy between an overly-schematised, and fake, business world, and an overly romanticised (and arguably no less fake) real world. Even when my sympathies lie with Polliakoff, I'm always frustrated by his failure to give our own side a sufficiently hard time. 'Gideon's Daughter' is not his most interesting film, largely because its central characters (a jaded spin doctor and his almost supernaturally beautiful, talented and serene daughter) are fundamentally quite dull. A moment towards the end of the film illustrates the problem succinctly: we see the main characters disappearing from a beautiful Edinburgh street, a street that it the real world in permanently busy with traffic and people but which here is shown devoid of cars and pedestrians alike: and while a director should be forgiven occasional moments of dramatic licence, when the entire drama is framed through such a distorted lens, though big questions may be asked, they're not really answered. This is a wonderfully crafted little film; but also a film that has very little relevance to the messiness of real lives.

Although it was "just" a TV movie, the TV network was the BBC. It was written and directed by Stephen Poliakoff, a well-established creative mind. The story is about two people, Stella and Gideon who have lost an only child, one to death, the other to negligence. Stella had divorced her husband, who reacts violently to his loss. Stella remains calm and only occasionally indulges in sadness. Their child was taken by death.

Gideon, on the other hand, a superstar of big productions for the British government, realizes that he has neglected his daughter until she has become almost estranged from him. He recognizes the similarities in his and Stella's sadness and they connect--physically, intellectually, and spiritually. The movie is a quiet piece, the stillness broken only by Stella's husband at the onset of the story.

The movie is intentionally slow-moving, as one of the reviewers put it, "almost in real time." But for those capable of subtleties, the acting shows clearly the visible clues to both lead character's grief.

This movie is in a class with "Obsession" with Glynnis Paltrow and Sidney Pollack's last movie (I think), "Random Hearts". These are three of the most beautiful motion pictures I have watched, and I am an avid movie-goer.

"Gideon's Daughter" brings to a TV film a trend that is mostly obvious in literary fiction – the middle-aged man who thinks he is the center of the universe and the whole world revolves around him, and faces some kind of break down if any of his women show a bit of independence.

Written and directed by playwright Stephen Poliakoff, he mines similar territory as Cheever, Updike, Ford, Amis, Roth, etc. thrust into the center of English celebrity and political culture. The theme is even awkwardly made redundant by an odd structure of having another middle-aged man tell the tale to another pretty young woman and a mysterious kid.

Here, Bill Nighy's media consultant only perceives such events as Princess Diana's death or the upcoming millennium in terms of how it affects him. In press interviews, Nighy has said that Poliakoff intentionally directed him to play the main character as "stripped" but one certainly doesn't see how this catatonic schmoozer even got to his professional pinnacle. His past and current sexual adventures certainly seem more male fantasy than anything based on his charisma of any kind.

Tom Hardy, who was quite captivating as Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester in the recent Queen Elizabeth I mini-series, shows much more suitable feistiness, as a cross between Jeremy Piven's agent in "Entourage" and Bradley Whitford's canny adviser in "The West Wing."

Miranda Richardson has the stereotyped role we've seen many times before of the quirky stranger (she dresses like an old hippie) from another class and lifestyle, but with a pained past with a child, who tempts him to play hooky and more. It is startlingly different for this genre that she is close to age appropriate.

A creepy centerpiece, and repeating motif, is the consultant's daughter (Emily Blunt getting to show little of the passion she displayed in "My Summer of Love") singing a lovely ballad in tribute to philanderer Georges Simenon's suicidal daughter. The story is particularly weakened by not seeing more of Blunt's life when she's not being the adoring daughter.

I really didn't get that a neglectful father who suddenly discovers he has paternal feelings is then to be considered "obsessive" rather than finally normal, even as she's about to leave the nest. His growing realization of his feelings is the best part of the film but a theme that all parents and grown children need to reconcile as adults-to-adults just drifts off.

How can be this simply story so touching? I kept asking this question for hours. Is it a parent-child relationship that everyone of us knows (at least from one of its sides) or is it something more? Or is it that lazy tempo that makes this movie so real? And I can't forget the totally beautiful song performed by Emily Blunt (Natasha). Bill Nighy's (Gideon) acting is perfect, too. Every scene in this film fits in it accurately and although the ending is filled with pathos, you'll have to like it. Because you want to believe that life goes that way. You have to see it and the best option is to watch it with your parents. It says things people should tell, but they don't.

With a good central performance from Bill Nighy, and as a way of showing that Emily Blunt would go onto be a star, this is a good piece of drama.

Well worth a watch.