There’s nothing quite like seeing family during the holidays; the experience can provide a lifetime’s worth of deep trauma. Director Eva Husson’s Mothering Sunday does just this, following wealthy British aristocrats and a member of household staff through their 1924 Mothering Sunday.
The holiday is a British tradition that falls on the fourth Sunday of Lent, during which one traditionally visits their mother church. Though the holiday has been celebrated in some capacity since the Middle Ages, the day found newfound relevance in the early 1900s as a reaction to the newly established American holiday Mother’s Day.
The film follows orphaned maid Jane (Odessa Young), who has been given the day off by the Nivens (played by an extremely stoic Olivia Colman and almost-as-stoic Colin Firth). Jane spends the morning and early afternoon with her wealthy lover next door, Paul (Josh O’Connor). His fiancé Emma (Emma D’Arcy) is away herself, so the Jane and Paul can sleep with one another and traverse his stately home in the nude for several hours before he has to meet Emma and the Nivens for lunch.
Mothering Sunday jumps between Jane’s then-secret affair and her not-so-distant future as a writer working in a bookshop. As time goes on, she sees success as an author, a significant social maneuver coming from her modest status. When her future lover asks what inspired her to write, she speaks of three specific life events that set her on course. The first two – birth and the gift of her first typewriter – she speaks of openly, but she keeps the third a secret. When tragedy strikes unexpectedly on Mothering Sunday in 1924, the fallout is devastating and life-altering, and serves as the third moment in life prompting her to write.
The film is unfortunately marred by a few problems that prevent it from being an engrossing drama, instead leaving it a slow burn that sputters until the end. The majority of the plot takes place on the single Mothering Sunday, but flash-forwards make for a confusing and somewhat frustrating composition of scenes. Why is Jane not with Paul after we just saw every square inch of their bodies touch and caress one another? How does so easily shift from domestic work to a successful literary career? You’re left pondering this for most of the film, and it isn’t until the final few minutes that our questions are answered. Even though Glenda Jackson gets to play the aged Jane, the final minutes are unable to make up for such slow progress, and in the end, frequent nudity remains more memorable than any performance or plotline.
The conclusion of The Great War precedes the storyline and casts a cloud of gloom and sorrow over the characters: Paul lost an older brother in the war; Mrs. Nivens is similarly traumatized. In a pivotal lunch scene, Mrs. Nivens breaks down, weeping over all the sons lost between the families. Little does she know what devastating news she’ll soon receive.
Unfortunately, even in this moment of intensity, the film fails to harness the power of Colman and Firth to their fullest capacity. The script only gives them a few moments to exhibit their characters. The emotional scene at lunch is the peak of Colman’s screen presence, far too short for an actress who has captured audiences numerous times in just the last few years alone. Though their characters don’t necessarily alter the direction of the plot, their star power feels wasted by so few moments of interaction.
Mothering Sunday receives points for its exploration and critique of social mobility. The film subtly criticizes aristocratic-working class relations and romance through the physical relationship between Jane and Paul. Shrouded in utmost secrecy, we see their naked bodies make their way across one another and through the English estate. They could be any two bodies in the grand home, their passion casting aside any recollection we have of Fairchild serving the Nivens just moments earlier. As Jane makes her way from maid and mistress to acclaimed author, the film highlights the idea that social class is indeed mutable.
Throughout Mothering Sunday talent supersedes bloodlines or wealth while art shows the ability to outlive relationships and love. It’s a shame the film itself doesn’t explore the themes as intimately as the characters explore one another’s bodies.
Photo courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics
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