Lizzie

Written by Bryce Kass, and directed by Craig William Macneill, Lizzie is based on the cause célèbre of Lizzie Borden, who was accused and subsequently acquitted of the axe murders of her father and stepmother in Fall River, Massachusetts in 1892, a crime that is still officially unsolved. A "smash-the-patriarchy" (to use a quote from producer and star Chloë Sevigny) revisionist take on the material, the film presents Borden as a protofeminist lashing out against patriarchal oppression, homophobia, and sexual assault. Strikingly contemporary in its thematic concerns, this long-time passion project for Sevigny adopts the perspective of the #MeToo movement, proposing a version of events wherein Borden is forced to actively fight back against a lifetime of subjugation. Although the languid pace will alienate many viewers, whilst the liberties it takes with historical facts will irk others, there is much to praise here, including fantastic cinematography, terrific sound design, and flawless acting.

One of most interesting aspects of Lizzie is its narrative structure. Beginning on August 4 just as the (unseen) bodies are discovered, it then flashes back six months to the arrival of housemaid Bridget Sullivan (Kristen Stewart). Building up to August 4 again, we learn that although 32-years-old, Borden lives with her domineering father, Andrew (a lecherous Jamey Sheridan); stepmother, Abby (Fiona Shaw); and elder sister, Emma (a criminally underused Kim Dickens). When Sullivan arrives as a live-in housemaid, she and Borden quickly grow close, with Borden attempting to teach her to read and write. Borden later discovers that Andrew is regularly sexually assaulting Sullivan, and eventually, the friendship turns romantic. However, when Andrew learns of it, he forbids Borden from seeing Sullivan, something Borden refuses to accept.

In the second depiction of August 4, this time we are shown the bodies, but we don't see the murders. The film then jumps forward to the trial, before once again flashing back to August 4, this time showing us the actual killing. This pseudo-De sang-froid (1967) structure is well-handled for the most part, and has a number of advantages. For one, it allows the film to briefly cover the trial, whilst still employing the murders as a powerful and very effective dénouement. It also allows the film to build tension around an event which the audience know is coming; by not showing the killings (twice), it has the effect that when the film does actually depict them, they are all the more impactful, placing a suitable cap on what is essentially a story of forbidden love.

From an aesthetic point of view, there's much to praise, with Noah Greenberg's cinematography particularly laudable. Often framing Borden in windows, doorways, and behind railings, whilst also using shallow focus to flatten backgrounds, the sense is that this is a woman living a confined life with little room to move, trapped in her immediate environment. When she and Sullivan first kiss, the camera pulls back to reveal that Andrew is watching them - even in this moment of release, they are still trapped in his domain. Borden is also often shot off-centre, or reflected in mirrors, particularly as she talks to someone who is on camera. This reinforces the sense that she is trapped, and also feeds into the metaphorical meaning of a later scene where she spreads the shards of a broken mirror outside the door of Sullivan's room to cut Andrew's feet as he emerges.

Dank and airless, the dimly lit Borden household, outside of which the film rarely ventures, is practically another character in and of itself. Complimenting Elizabeth J. Jones's production design, Greenberg's photography gives rise to a restrictive and claustrophobic mise en scène, which is often lit with only a single candle. However, it's not just how he lights scenes that impresses, it's also how he uses the camera; gliding over important details without hammering home why we should be paying attention (the first time we see the ax, for example). Also worth mentioning is how Macneill uses the full-frontal nudity towards the end of the film. Although it will no doubt be accused of gratuitousness by some, it's not only historically accurate, it's shocking, necessary, and makes a powerful statement. God forbid a woman should ever appear naked on screen in a scene not of a sexual nature. Assisting Greenberg's photography and Jones's design is Ruy García's superb sound design. Of particular note are the floorboards, which creak with the slightest touch, making any kind of clandestine interaction between Borden and Sullivan virtually impossible, and thus contributing to the sense of the household as a prison. Enhancing this even further, is the lack of warmth in the sound design, with footsteps and voices echoing and bouncing off the walls due to the lack of soft surfaces.

As a narrative of female empowerment (albeit of the homicidal variety), most of the film's main themes relate to combating the patriarchal strictures of the Gilded Age, represented primarily by Andrew, his brother-in-law John (Denis O'Hare), and Abby, who reinforces patriarchal hypocrisy by unquestioningly submitting to it. Talking to the Huffington Post, Sevigny explains, "I wanted it to be this rousing, smash-the-patriarchy piece and then she gets everything she wants, monetarily." Presenting Borden as a woman driven to her wit's end, with few practical options in a society that looks down on her because she is unwed and in her 30s, the film depicts a free-spirit living in a cage, yearning for agency, with the murders presented, at least in part, as her attempt to break free of such restrictions. Suffocated by unquestioned authoritarian patriarchal rule, Borden essentially becomes a protofeminist heroine, actively rebelling against the dominion of men and the women who enable them.

Sullivan, who acts as the audience's moral compass, faces different obstacles, primarily related to economics and social caste. Her place in the ideological and socio-economic hierarchy is manifested in the fact that the family call her Maggie (the generic name given to all Irish servants). However, Borden's insistence on calling her by her actual name (which is historically inaccurate, as Borden also called her Maggie) lays the groundwork for their later emotional connection. Presenting their relationship as an illicit romance which they had to hide because of the moral bigotry of the age, the film very much adopts a #MeToo sensibility, as Borden and Sullivan fight back against self-righteous judgement, unchecked abuse, and socially sanctioned oppression. In this sense, when Borden and Sullivan strip naked before the murders, they aren't just undressing to avoid getting incriminating blood on their clothes, they are repudiating the garments that have restricted them in a physical sense just as much as men have in an ideological sense.

There are, however, some sizeable problems in all of this. For one, the film lacks energy, and the slow pacing will leave some viewers bored to tears. Additionally, apart from Sevigny and Stewart, the rest of the cast is wasted, particularly Shaw, O'Hare, and Dickens. None of their characters come across as possessing any kind of interiority, instead existing almost exclusively as archetypes; the wicked stepmother, the lecherous uncle, and the ice-cold older sister. Additionally, although he has a lot more to do, Sheridan's Andrew is completely over-the-top, only one or two beats away from a moustache-twirling mega-villain. Perhaps the most egregious problem is that the film seems as war with itself. On the one hand, it wants to be an elegant, period-appropriate tale of women attempting to take their destinies into their own hands in a Victorian society not predisposed to allow such, but on the other, it wants to present a modern story of murder and homosexual women. At times, such as the superb depiction of the murders themselves, you can feel the modern sensibilities rise to the surface, but for the most part, they're stifled by the hushed austerity of the more muted milieu.

Lizzie tells the story of an initially powerless victim who lashes out and, quite literally, slays patriarchal authority. Just by giving Sevigny the first significant starring role of her career, the film earns a lot of brownie points, as she's been an unsung, but consistently brilliant supporting player since her debut in Kids (1995). Alongside her, Stewart equates herself very well, even having a decent go at an Irish accent, and the passion between the two, though period-appropriately muted, is completely believable. However, the film's attempts to shoehorn in 21st century moral values doesn't entirely work, primarily because Kass's script tips the scale in Borden's favour to a ridiculous degree - there's Andrew's over-the-top villainy (not just an authoritarian homophobe, but a rapist to boot), John's creepy intimations, Abby's refusal to stand up for her step-daughters, Borden's protofeminist rhetoric and humanitarianism, and the alterations to historical fact to ensure the audience is never in any doubt as to where its sympathies are supposed to lie. Weighing the scales so decisively drains the film of any ambiguity and most of its vitality, presenting a binary story of righteous good slaying hypocritical evil, rather than a murder with many facets. A Gothic tale told from a #MeToo perspective, Lizzie tries to be many things at once - a revisionist history, a feminist tract, a championing of homosexuality, a murder mystery, a period drama - but ends up kind of falling into a no man's land between genres. Still though, there are aspects of the film that are enjoyable, if you can look past the enervating pace.

Just four years after Lizzie Borden Took an Ax and the campy TV mini series it spawned, were audiences really clamoring for another Lizzie Borden film?

An uninspiring cast sleepwalks its way through this speculative take on an all-too-familiar story in Lizzie (2018), written by Bryce Kass and directed by Craig William Macneill. The film pits Lizzie Borden and the family's live-in maid, Bridget Sullivan, against her tyrannical father and unsympathetic step mother in what co-producer and lead actress Chloë Sevigny described as an overtly feminist take.

The film opens in the aftermath of Andrew (Jamey Sheridan) and Abby (Fiona Shaw) Borden's murder. An investigator asks their 32-year-old daughter, Lizzie (Chloë Sevigny), whether her father had any enemies. From there, the film rewinds to the family's employment of a 25-year-old Irish maid named Bridget Sullivan (Kristen Stewart). According to the filmmakers, that was the catalyst for the eventual double homicide, and the answer to the investigator's question. There is never a question about Lizzie Borden's involvement in her parent's death. The obvious foil, and rival for Lizzie's inheritance, her uncle John Morse (Denis O'Hare), serves as a flimsy red herring.

Lizzie's central conflict is between Lizzie, Bridget, and her domineering father, who seeks to control all the women living under his roof. While Lizzie's sister, Emma (Kim Dickens), fades into the background, Lizzie and Bridget find themselves in a compromising position, one that leads to her parents' gruesome murder. Sevigny herself characterized this as a literal "smash the patriarchy" moment.

In real life, Andrew and Sarah Borden were found murdered in their Fall River, Massachusetts home on August 4, 1892. Their middle aged daughters, Lizzie and Emma, lived with them, along with their maid, Bridget Sullivan. There had been significant tension in the family leading up to the murders, and Lizzie gave conflicting alibis. Lizzie was arrested and put on trial. After 90 minutes of deliberation, the all-male jury acquitted her. Her trial was a national media sensation, but to this day, there are many competing theories about "whodunnit."

Like most dramatizations of these events, Lizzie both assumes Lizzie Borden was guilty and that she committed the murders with an ax. In reality, the murder weapon was never determined, though the movie does try to explain why the hatchet in question lacked any evidence of being used in the crime. The film also omitted the food poisoning the family suffered, and the extended trip Lizzie and her sister took prior to the murders. Although the house interior looked accurate, the exterior bears little resemblance to its historic counterpart.

There's also no evidence Lizzie was a lesbian or that she was sexually involved with Bridget Sullivan, or that Mr. Borden sexually assaulted Bridget. That allegation came from mystery author Evan Hunter (aka Ed McBain)'s 1984 novel Lizzie, a work of fiction. Contemporary rumors about Lizzie's sexuality were of the kind gossipers leveled at any unmarried, middle-aged person at the time.

Like Lizzie, Lifetime's biopic Lizzie Borden Took an Ax (2014) also weirdly sexualizes her. Both films depict her as a seductress and show her committing the murders in the nude and drinking alcohol. Lizzie Borden was, in real life, an upper class spinster, Sunday school teacher, teetotaler, and member of the Women's Christian Temperance Union.

Their contemporary revision of Lizzie Borden's personality is where the two films part ways. For all its faults, Lizzie Borden Took an Ax at least accurately portrayed Lizzie and her sister Emma's close relationship, while in Lizzie, Emma vanishes for most of the film. Their actual family dynamic was sidelined to make room for a lesbian fantasy, which at this point is such a boring cliche in feminist film.

Lizzie grossed $642,157 at the box office, and currently holds a 65% rating from critics and 56% audience favorability on RottenTomatoes. The filmmakers were obviously hoping controversy and its two leading ladies would carry their film, but even a contractually-obligated effort on the part of Chloë Sevigny and Kristen Stewart couldn't save this dreary rehash of a 126-year-old unsolved murder.

There are certain ideas that every few years get reused for major movie releases. Examining the life of Lizzie Borden happens a bit infrequently compared to other concepts, but the 2018 film 'Lizzie' isn't the first to do so, and surely won't be the last.

The tale of Lizzie Borden is fairly common knowledge at this point: she is alleged to have murdered her parents with an ax, and when put on trial for the crimes, she was acquitted. The finer details of who Lizzie was, and how and why she did it, are the real points of debate and interest, and the things that filmmakers may emphasize or deemphasize as they see fit for the picture they want to make.

'Lizzie' chooses to focus on the build-up to the murders, with little time spent on the trial and a mere few lines of text to describe Borden's life after. What we are shown is how very abusive Lizzie's father Andrew was, in almost every way a father could be. From writing off Lizzie's future to destroying those things she held dear, we're given a poor impression of Mr. Borden - and of his wife, Abby, who Lizzie resents for her inaction.

Lizzie also recognizes her father's abuse of the family's live-in servant, Irish immigrant Bridget Sullivan. In Miss Sullivan this film finds another focus as it spends some time on the developing friendship between Lizzie and Bridget. One can't ignore that 'Lizzie' undoubtedly gets more steamy than other movies about its subject, too, as it imparts an intimate, sexual relationship between Miss Borden and Miss Sullivan.

The film's bent toward salaciousness is also built into the climax when both Lizzie and Bridget take up the ax against the elder Bordens, ensuring in the process that they get no blood on their clothing.

How does the thrust of the narrative here compare to other films about Lizzie Borden? How likely is it to be an accurate depiction of those events in 1892 that we can only speculate on? I leave those questions for Lizzie enthusiasts and historians. How is 'Lizzie' in and of itself?

The number one thing to remark on are the performances. In particular, Chloe Sevigny shines as Lizzie Borden, putting in a performance that is as powerful as it is stoic. As critics have remarked, she is so steady and flatly even in her role as to almost single-handedly give the picture a great air of seriousness. She is joined in a similar manner by Kristen Stewart as Bridget Sullivan. Stewart got a lot of flak for wooden, unmoving acting in the 'Twilight' films, but I rather think that folks forget she's an actress - given the freedom and direction to embody a character as she will, Stewart is very capable. In 'Lizzie' she largely mirrors Sevigny, if anything giving Sullivan a slightly greater emotive range even as she remains resolute, and loyal to her friend and lover.

That dispassion and restraint is built into the production as well, perhaps to a fault. The whole picture feels very understated; Jeff Russo's score is so minimized that one may be forgiven for forgetting that 'Lizzie' had any music at all. To an extent I can appreciate applying such calculated dampening to what is essentially a historical reenactment, but there needs to be some variation in tone, some peaks and valleys. As it stands, even as 'Lizzie' is anchored by Sevigny and Stewart's fine performances, it's also weakened by a lack of vibrancy in even the most dramatic moments.

Hand in hand with the somewhat muted feel of the feature, there's something to be said, too, for how its treatment of the life and times of Lizzie Borden dispenses with any commentary on society at the time. That unmarried Lizzie would see her father write her out of any possible inheritance, thereby severely limiting her means, would certainly be a strong motive for murdering him. Women's rights were far more of a nightmare in the late 19th century than they are even now, with almost no agency or autonomy to speak of. Almost any other movie would acknowledge sociopolitical issues with at least a passing line of dialogue, if not an active interest of a character. 'Lizzie' leaves it to viewers to pick up on these matters by themselves. Which is fine - there's no written rule of film-making that says every last detail has to be spoon-fed to the audience, nor would I want there to be - but it's striking nonetheless.

Between the blood, violence, sexuality, and nudity, it's not going to be for everyone, and discretion is advised as well for viewers with a keen focus on historical accuracy and/or Lizzie's legacy. Yet overall, I think 'Lizzie' is a pretty good movie that effectively conveys the events of 1892 for those unfamiliar. The stony evenness of its tone is off-putting, but Chloe Sevigny and Kristen Stewart's performances alone make it worth watching.

Don't go out of your way to find it, but 'Lizzie' is worthwhile if you come across it.

"Lizzie" (2018 release; 105 min.) is a bio-pic about Lizzie Borden. As the movie opens, we are told it is "August 4, 1892", and we see Lizzie walking around in the garden, and then going into the house, where we hear her scream and the camera shows a heavily mutated slain body. We then go to "6 Months Earlier", as we get to know Bridget, an Irish girl who has gotten work as a maid in the Borden family that is ruled with an iron fist by Lizzie's dad. Lizzie and Bridget strike up an unlikely friendship... To tell you more of the plot would spoil your viewing experience, you'll just have to see for yourself how it all plays out.

Couple of comments: this is the 2nd feature length from up-and-coming director Craig William Macneill. Here he brings the latest Lizzie Borden movie adaptation (it'e been a TV movie several times over). While this is in a sense a "whodunnit" movie, as we are eager to find out exactly what happened on that August 4, 1892, it really is far more than that: Macneill is interested in showing us the atmosphere within which the Borden family (and maid) were living in. Bware: almost the entire film plays out in the Borden house, so at times this very much has the feeling of a stage play. On top of that, the music is sparse. It all has a bit of a claustrophobic feel to it. But the most important thing the movie has going for it are the terrific performances from the two lead actresses, Chloe Sevigny (who also co-produced) and Kristin Stewart. Yes, Stewart at times uses her patented "pained look", at quite effectively within the circumstances.

"Lizzie" premiered at this year's Sundance film festival, to positive buzz. It finally opened this weekend at my local art-house theater here in Cincinnati, and I couldn't wait to see it. The Sunday early evening screening where I saw this at was attended dismally (3 people, including myself). If you are interested in a decent character study set in the late 19th century and blesses with some wonderful acting performances, I'd readily suggest you check this out, be it in the theater, on VOD, or eventually on DVD/Blu-ray, and draw your own conclusion,

"Lizzie" chronicles one of America's most famous crimes-the hatchet murders of prominent Massachusetts businessman Andrew Borden and his wife, Abby. The suspect? His spinster daughter, Lizzie, whose name has gone down in infamy.

Originally a passion project for star Chloë Sevigny, around whom talk has circled for nearly a decade regarding a Lizzie Borden biopic/miniseries, "Lizzie" is a well-made psychological drama that will likely satisfy as many people as it will utterly alienate. The screenplay here, as with any kind of historical fiction, takes liberties and makes speculations, the most singular being that Lizzie committed the murders after her father uncovered a romantic relationship between her and the Bordens' house servant, an Irish immigrant named Bridget Sullivan. While this is obviously speculative, when one actually sits and considers the written accounts and evidence, it is not necessarily unlikely, and is a position that has been argued by several historians and journalists. Did it really happen this way? We will never know for sure.

That aside, this take on the material is above-average in many ways: It's well-shot and atmospheric, with just the right touches of the Victorian Gothic. It's also remarkably well-acted, with Sevigny surprisingly turning in a convincing performance as Borden (as a huge fan of her work, I was personally skeptical of whether the role would fit her right). Kristen Stewart is perhaps more shockingly good as Bridget, the servant caught in the eye of the storm. I do feel the film stumbles a bit in terms of its narrative structure, as it begins with a snippet of the crime's "discovery," then loops back to the build-up before cutting away again just before the killings. The gritty details then are presented in a flashback which, though effective, I think would have better served as a straightforward conclusion in a chronological account. The court scenes that rear themselves in the last act, though brief, feel dull and ultimately draw the viewer out of the core narrative; and, given that the audience ostensibly already knows how it ends, I feel the filmmakers would have benefitted from laying the story out in a no-nonsense fashion.

Despite these narrative pitfalls, I still found "Lizzie" a compelling take on a rather common (and frankly well-supported) theory regarding the Borden murders. Did it happen exactly this way? Probably not. But there is potential truth here. And even if there's not, the story itself remains compelling all the same. 7/10.