The light that falls on John Lye's farm is diffuse, a gentle glow that passes through mist, It enters widows, softly illuminating Fanny Lye as she attends to household tasks. The imagery presented by director Thomas Clay and cinematographer Giorgos Arvanitis recalls paintings of Millet and Vermeer. While Millet's laborers sow the fields in ways suggesting contentment, and Vermeer's women appear touched by grace, the toils of Fanny (Maxine Peake) are attended by neither sentimentality nor joy.
Any sense of contentment is dispelled by an expository voice over and revelatory closeups. Fanny kneels on a hardwood floor as John lashes a switch across her back, her hands rigorously twist cloth in a wash basin. And the lovely woods and hills that surround her do not indicate an insular existence as much as an isolated one. There are no sign lines of the world beyond the stands of the trees and crests.
When youthful strangers, Thomas (Freddie Fox) and Rebecca (Tanya Reynolds) arrive, they assimilate into the family, bringing touches of levity to the Lye's young son Arthur and glimpses of liberation to Fanny. Both are interrupted by corporal punishment whenever John's notions of decorum are disturbed.
Rebecca lightens some of Fanny's burdens and Thomas emits whips of sensuality, these supported by the slow glide of Arvanitis's camera through the kitchen window to the exterior. As the fields of vision expand so, too, does the prospect of Fanny's freedom. Arvanitis also enables the audience to watch the characters like a stealthy observer, employing takes that gently pass around trees and structures to unimpeded views of the men felling trees and the women completing chores. The graceful movement of the still cam incrementally exposes challenges to John's constrictive Puritan values.
Ideologies eventually clash.
The competing perspectives, each supported by scriptural passages, struggle for dominance, the power shifting like the fortunes of the forces still fighting to control post civil war England. The battle illustrates a harsh truth: once any dogma takes control, ugly aspects of self righteousness and revenge are manifested.
In witnessing the struggle, Fanny is mostly silent as Peake's expressive face registers inner conflict, tightening at the possibility of pain for John or Arthur and relaxing at the prospect of freedom. As John, Charles Dance subtlety indicates his emotions in ways indicative of his mastery of screen acting-a slight tuck of the chin conveys disapproval, a quick blink, fear. Fox is best when his Thomas cajoles and charms, less so when he is charged with emotion. Reynolds adeptly projects both rustic ingenuousness and joyful licentiousness.
Beauty is present throughout the film. The first image of Rebecca is a closeup of her eyes, large and soft as those in a da Vinci portrait. And the pastoral beauty of the surroundings is consistently present. When violence intrudes, it plays out both suddenly and through gruesome struggle, unnerving audiences largely inured to depictions of injury and death. If Fanny's liberation is to come, barriers can be breached only by destruction and agony.
