The name Siegfried Sassoon may not be immediately recognizable as one of the rising stars in poetry following the First World War, but writer/director Terence Davies certainly makes Sassoon’s name known by inserting the man’s most renowned and acclaimed works into the running narration, delivered by the two actors who play him over the course of this surprisingly intimate biography. The discovery of a voice like Sassoon is merely one of the pleasures of Davies’ film, which also seeks to point the spotlight on someone who operated just as devotedly as a political rapscallion – not to mention as a gay man in an era when such behavior was considered both a lifestyle and an affront.
As such, that surprising intimacy must also eventually battle a messier sense of focus in the film’s second act, when its version of Siegfried seems to hop from one calamitous relationship with a man to the next, while keeping up appearances with an “understanding” between himself and a woman who pines for him but knows his true nature will not accept her. The proceedings become an outright romantic comedy (with sprinklings of melodrama) in this second half, but the opening hour is gently and genuinely revelatory, mixing the sparkling dialogue of Davies’ screenplay, impeccable performances from the ensemble cast and elegant camerawork, courtesy of cinematographer Nicola Daley.
We meet Siegfried, played in his younger years by Jack Lowden, on the cusp of WWI, about which he, a pacifist in every sense of the term, writes a scathing work of polemical poetry that excites the younger generation and deeply angers his commanding officers. Rather than drag a now-public figure through the mud, which would cause as much scandal as what he wrote, Siegfried’s mentor (Simon Russell Beale) sends him to a war hospital in Scotland under the false pretenses of seeking psychological examination. There, he experiences his first brushes of the freedom to be who he is, especially after meeting fellow poet Wilfred Owen (Matthew Tennyson), despite the attention the pair’s “friendship” brings to each of them.
This first hour is a marvelous stretch of filmmaking, thanks in large part to a hopefully star-making performance from Lowden that manages to capture the essence of the man without simply turning into an impersonation of his characteristics. Siegfried comes across as a fully realized human, instead of simply a tool for Davies to relay a true story, and through Lowden’s portrayal, we get a sense of the man. That can also be said for Peter Capaldi, who plays Siegfried as an older man in flashes-forward, as well as a third act that catches up with him late in life.
The second hour is, if not any less impeccably performed, a little less ambitious narratively and thematically. Siegfried takes advantage of his attractions by pursuing romance with a number of other, similarly closeted young men. There is Ivor Novello (Jeremy Irvine), a noncommittal but dreadfully romantic theater actor and composer with no compunction for finding himself in the bed of other men, and Stephen Tennant (Calam Lynch), an aristocrat whose vanity is as blinding as his perfect teeth. This material is almost proudly melodramatic when it isn’t lightly funny, but it’s also a little less immediately involving than our protagonist and his more personal tale (such, for instance, as the marriage of convenience to Hester Gatty, a warm presence played by Kate Phillips and, later, Gemma Jones).
Thankfully, such concerns are minor, especially when the film fast-forwards to catch up with the older Siegfried, who receives a visit from an old lover and has had time to reflect upon his achievements and regrets. The final act of Benediction is, like the film it belongs to, utterly lovely, anchored by what might become the definitive screen version of this man without tipping over into banal hagiography.
Photo courtesy of Roadside Attractions
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