There are several contexts in which cynicism feels appropriate, and a biopic concerning 20th-century author and playwright Samuel Beckett certainly falls in that category. However, cynicism is only effective when paired with intelligence and insight, and hopefully a bit of creativity, which is where Dance First lets down its subject with a disrespectfully shallow approach to his life and work.
The film begins with the most significant moment of Beckett’s career, his 1969 Nobel Prize win, but wastes no time portraying its protagonist as a pessimistic and frankly unlikable character. The narrative dismisses this achievement in favor of an attempt at absurdism in which Beckett (portrayed by Gabriel Byrne) converses with… himself… in reflection on the people who affected him over the past decades. This then serves as the film’s framing device, each chapter named for one of these secondary characters and their relationship with Beckett, jumping erratically and sometimes incomprehensibly between periods of his life.
This is perhaps one of the strangest decisions made by writer Neil Forsyth — why focus on these relationships, which this characterization of Beckett seems to regard with a dismissive rudeness, rather than his internal torment and how it shaped his creative process? Why highlight social dysfunction instead of the work widely regarded as genius?
These characters do, however, serve to provide a glimmer of interest amid the monochromatic landscape opted for by director James Marsh. Robert Aramayo, Gráinne Good and Léonie Lojkine all deliver sympathetic performances in their small roles, despite being doomed by the narrative. Aidan Gillen also has one of the top-billed performances as James Joyce, though despite being an actor who portrayed one role so effectively he retains a certain powerful aura, the script didn’t give him much to use it for.
The perplexing writing and direction remain consistent throughout. The black-and-white cinematography is nicely lit and seems contextually appropriate within the bleak 20th-century setting, although it seems a bit too obvious when it switches to color during the later decades. Perhaps some elements of the direction — the excruciating pacing and slow fades, for example — are also an attempt to reflect the tone of the period, but they do not translate well where audience engagement is concerned. From the start, the scenes feel disconnected, lacking a comprehensive narrative flow. They make huge jumps through Beckett’s life, as well, which makes it difficult to piece the fragments together for a full picture of his personal journey and creative evolution. Forsyth also seems more interested in antagonizing, mundane details such as Beckett’s infidelity and neglect of his wife, rather than the ‘central conflict of the writer’ or degradation of post-war Europe which seems significantly more relevant to the story of Beckett as a tortured creative which the filmmakers are attempting to tell.
Ultimately, this film leaves audiences with minimal knowledge about the psychological and socio-political context in which Beckett was writing and maximum questions about why it was made in the first place. Marsh and Forsyth don’t seem passionate about his work, and they barely portray Beckett as passionate about his work, resulting in a distinctly dispassionate viewing experience. This non-sensical approach seems particularly evident in the marketing – why name the film after Beckett’s quote, “Dance first… think later” when his characterization embodies the exact opposite? The promotional imagery itself feels as unfaithful as his marriage.
It also seems as if the most significant allusion to Beckett’s work is an unintentional one – “Nothing happens… it is madness!” a character declares in response to the Waiting For Godot script. The same can be said of this film, but unlike the Nobel Prize-winning work it alludes to, it is far from a masterpiece. Rather, it feels like waiting, waiting, waiting, on a narrative that never seems to arrive. “You know there’s nothing interesting about joy,” Beckett says to himself in the final scene. If there’s one thing that can be learned from this movie, it’s less about the playwright and more about the filmmakers agreeing wholeheartedly with this statement.
Photo courtesy of Magnolia Pictures
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