Customer Reviews

The Winter Guest

5 star:		(32)
4 star:		(4)
3 star:		(2)
2 star:		(3)
1 star:		(6)

 

 

The second best thing about this film is its lyrical and lovely musical score, with some fine folk songs added in to the mix. The scenery of the frozen Scottish landscape and the quaint town in which the story is staged is beautiful; but it is Thompson's and Law's performances as a typical loving-battling, wanting-to-escape-each-other, forever-bound-together mother and daughter that are stunning. The mother's persistence against all odds is shown from the start, as she walks a harrowing route to her daughter's home, there to ply Thompson from the bathroom where she is hiding from her mother. The bickering begins, with lots of interaction that shows the ordinary tensions between mothers and daughters, but it brings about a catharsis for Thompson's character, who is a widow grieving for a lost husband. Following these two through the few hours of their day together is enthralling. If you are a woman, you are bound to recognize your mother or daughter in this relationship -- it is that typical and that honest. And men can certainly gain insight into women's relationships from this film.

But Thompson's and Law's isn't the only story. Comic and ironic relief is brought by pairs of other characters. Two are elderly women of long acquaintance, who visit a funeral and have some adventures and self-revelations along the way. Another pair are two boys who skip school and hang about the seashore, doing what boys often do and saying what boys often say, in some very humorous and ultimately profound scenes. Then there is a romance, as Thompson's adolescent son is pursued by a rather aggressive young lady in a manner that causes you to wonder if they will make love or end up hating each other.

I hesitated to see this film because I thought I would not be able to understand much of the dialog since the actor's accents were advertised as being heavily Scottish. Actually, there were only a few phrases that I couldn't pick out. Otherwise it was easily understandable. The film held my interest, and I found it to be entertaining as well as insightful. Bravo to Rickman for a fine job directing and pulling together the character's adventures. Some charming scenes tie up the threads of each pair's story rather nicely, but the ending is the sort that hints to you that the film itself will haunt you, or so I have found. Maybe it's the soundtrack (available on CD), perhaps it's the frozen and rough landscape, or it might be the characters which seem so familiar, since they could be any of us, but this film sticks in my memory as meaningful and emotionally evocative. If you like modern American film, with violence, special effects, phenomenally loud noises, etc., I don't believe you would be attracted to the Winter Guest. But if you are interested in film-making as an art, a social comment, and a depicition of our awesome lives, you may want to view this film. It really is excellent.

The setting for "The Winter Guest" (based on the stage play) is a small fishing village in Scotland where the sea is frozen as far as the eye can see. Frances (Emma Thompson) is a professional photographer mired in grief over the recent death of her husband. She cannot make herself climb out of bed -- even for her son. Photographs Frances took of her deceased husband line the walls and run up the stairs. At one point during the film her son tells a friend their house is haunted and his dead father has imprisoned his mother.

One cold winter day, Frances' mother Elspeth (Phyllida Law--Emma's real mother) comes calling -- she is the 'winter guest.' She encourages Frances to start living again. At Elspeth's urging, she and Frances spend the day together walking and talking in the frozen landscape -- Frances with her camera in hand and Elspeth with her cigarettes. At the end of the walk, Frances seems a bit less grieved and the frozen space between the mother and daughter has thawed.

Three subplots have been worked into the main tale: two small boys playing hooky; Frances' son meeting a new girl; and two older ladies taking the #22 bus to an out of town funeral.

Alan Rickman dircted this masterpiece of stunning visual beauty. The film consists of shot after shot of black and white photographs suitable for framing. Some color is provided by the occasional jumper (sweater) or other inanimate object, but mostly this is a black and white film. If you're fascinated with photograpy and/or cinematography, you will enjoy this film. The musical score is lovely and quite appropriate for the setting (piano solos by Michael Kamen with a female vocal during the final credits).

The photography reminds me a bit of the footage from "The Sweet Hereafter" though most of it is very original. The story line is reminiscent of "Truly, Madly, Deeply" which starred Rickman. This is a thoughtful film. My husband has watched it twice, so I don't think it appeals only to women.

"The Winter Guest" is Alan Rickman's first film as a director, and what a film it is. Having directed it first in the West End, he makes the transition to film with remarkable ease.

Masterfully acted by his dear friends Emma Thompson and her real-life mum, Phyllida Law as the titular "Guest" (the literal guest--the metaphorical "guest" is the unknown/death/the next stage of growth). She's a rather unwelcome visitor to her grieving daughter's home--having just lost her husband to death she just wants to be left alone. Rickman does something which is becoming rarer and rarer amongst directors: he reveals the characters rather than trying to dazzle us with "aren't I a genius first-time-director" trickery designed to call attention to him, rather than to his story. He does this by using simple, quiet but absolutely exquisite cinematography (by Seamus McGarvey) to capture the wild beauty of the far north of Scotland in the dead of a harsh but beautiful winter, creating almost moonscapes; he allows his actors to work within long takes so that they can fully immerse themselves in their scenes; he artfully intercuts between characters' gestures so as to create a psychological connection that is subtle but significant and is seen first as the approaching Elspeth [Law] slips and grabs a metal handrail, then he cuts to Frances [Thompson] grabbing her metal bed frame as she turns sleeping--this is a Nicolas Roeg technique which serves to wordlessly communicate the connection between the two and is a great example of the uniqueness of the language of cinema, and of how a full grasp of that language deepens a film immeasurably--and very importantly, like the great German director Werner Herzog, he is unafraid of silence and allows it to take us into the center of the film. The simple and non-intrusive score is by the late, great Michael Kamen (who is sorely missed), and is mostly comprised of "incidental" music--songs occuring naturally as someone plays the piano or sings a traditional song. This has the effect of creating atmosphere and the sense that this is life, not a movie. That a first time director should have been able to do all of this without fear of being "unfashionably" non-showy is quite remarkable; from the first frame it was clear that he has it in him to become a director of note, should he choose to follow that path. That two such great British actresses trusted him fully was a great vote of confidence (Law had played this role in The West End play which preceded the film, as several of the other actors involved in the film had, as well).

Adapted by Rickman and Sharman MacDonald from her play, which Rickman was involved in from the start, the story is actually comprised of four inter-woven stories, four pairs of people, each of whom are in the midst of some sort of existential struggle (do not mistake this for pretension); the action takes place all in one day, during which all of the characters have come to some sort of internal crisis; the film is about the negotiating each of them do through these deep changes, all of which touch on death in one way or another. All good stories are about just that--the moments when someone is forced to turn, to make choices, to move through a difficulty with grace, making space for the needs of others without relinquishing one's own needs. This is big content to manage within a single day, but Rickman intercuts between these four conflicted pairs seamlessly, giving each of them his full attention. The day itself is remarkable--so cold is it that everything is covered deep in snow and the sea has actually frozen, a rare occurrence.

The main pair is mother Elspeth and daughter Frances. Frances is buried so deep in isolated mourning for her dead husband that her mother fears for both her and for her grandson. Apparently the marriage between Frances and her husband was so intense that it nearly excluded the son in the first place, which Elspeth is still distressed about. Frances, a professional photographer, photographed the stages of her husband's deterioration, and her home is filled with images of him in varying degrees of health and increasing illness. He haunts the house, his widow, his son, the film. Elspeth feels that by photographing this protracted death, Frances has also disappeared into a form of living death, and so she tries to take Frances out of herself by coaxing her to join her in a long walk with her camera in hand.

As irritating as Frances finds her mother's intrusion into her solitude, she also worries about her increasing weakness as she moves farther into old age. This irritation is expressed one minute when Frances covers her ears as Elspeth relates a long story, her concern revealed a few moments later when her mother's sudden silence sparks concern, and the turning off all the faucets and listening intently, calling anxiously for her mother until she begins to speak again. They bicker--both are witty, funny, acidic, and able to hit bulls-eye's every time they take aim, then share deeply loving moments, and later, as they walk together, Frances begins to see her mother as an individual, rather than the irritating fuss-budget she usually reduces her to. (An aside--this is the moment all mothers await--the dawning upon their daughters that they are not just "Mother" but an actual, whole person who exists in 3-d and is as complex and worthy of respect as her daughter is, and finally gets that respect from her daughter--many stories are about this subject alone so lost is the notion of respect for one's mother--and many mothers both in stories and in life wait a long time for this pivotal, life-changing moment.) It is wonderful to see that process unfold here. The issues of being needed and of needing are addressed directly, and it seems as though Elspeth has wanted to talk about the subject for some time, but has felt unable to do so because of Frances' emotional and physical distance (she and her son have been in Australia on extended holiday after her husband's death, and Elspeth has been afraid they'd not return). According to the interview on the DVD, Rickman commissioned the project when he was at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre with the great actress Lindsay Duncan, whose mother was at that time suffering from the stage of Alzheimer's when one is both amusing and exasperating, and so he asked Lindsay and Sharman to talk and then Sharman wrote the play. We see in the film that combination of love and frustration between the mother and daughter, and how each has to make room for the changes in the relationship that occur when the mother begins to need the daughter, and the daughter has to come to terms with both that and her own need--however annoying it may be, one never quite stops needing one's mother.

The second pair is Frances' son Alex (Gary Hollywood), and Nita (Arlene Cockburn), a neighborhood girl who has had an eye on him and who chooses today to take a shot at flirtation. She is a strong, self-sufficient young woman whose boyish looks have made her unsure of her femininity and subsequently rather belligerent in compensation. It is this combination of power and hidden vulnerability that draws Alex to her. From the house, Elspeth watches them through a telescope, looks into the girl's eager, open face and says, "You be careful, Alex--it wants, that face--give her the moon, she'd want the stars as well..." She then goes on to admit to herself that she always "wanted" and "wants" still, dispelling the myth that with age comes a sort of numbness to such normal things as desire. Alex, who is worried terribly about his mother and haunted by his father's death, is not at first very receptive to Nita's attempts at contact, but eventually succumbs to her teasing and flirting, and finally brings the girl home to the unexpectedly abandoned house. A poorly-timed confrontation with yet another photograph of his father breaks him down, and he is able to reveal the depth of his emotional turmoil, and for all Nita's previous indications of selfishness, she is able to receive and hold it, and some sort of healing begins for him.

The third pair, an elderly couple of women--Lily and Chloe (played respectively by Sheila Reid and Sandra Voe)--who seem to have outlived all their friends and neighbors, spend their time in going to funerals, making a day's outing of each one, complete with tea and cakes. It's not possible to describe here how their experience plays out with such depth and significance, but that it does is an example of how Alan Rickman has brought even this subtle piece of the story fully to life, making these women real and powerfully empathetic. When Chloe's crisis comes, we feel the strength of Lily's support and are moved.

Our final pair is two young boys who have skipped school for the day. Sam (Douglas Murphy) and his best friend Tom (Sean Biggerstaff, later of the Harry Potter movies) are at that fragile age when boys are on the brink of manhood and struggling to understand who they are and how they fit. They are sweet and tender (a moment shared between Tom and the newly shorn Frances, when he asks to touch her short, prickly hair, is so filled with emotion it moves the hard-shelled Frances to tears), obnoxious and argumentative--all the things boys at about 12 are. They are concerned with the problems of burgeoning sexuality, relationships with family members, their futures, and then, unexpectedly, with the lives of a couple of tiny, abandoned kittens whom they rescue and care for lovingly as they sit on the frozen shore, staring out onto the frozen sea. The above mentioned encounter between Frances and her mother and the momentariliy alone Tom is a wonderful one which reveals much about all three characters. All of the duos bump into one another at one time or another, some briefly, some with greater impact, but this one most of all. It is impossible not to love these boys who,in that moment between boyhood and manhood, are as frozen as is the sea, and we want to hold them there, as safely as they hold their kittens, and not let them go into the uncertain future.

It is not an accident that this day of days is one on which even the salt sea has freezed up. "Once before I've seen the sea frozen, just the once, long, long ago," says Chloe to her friend, Lily. "What a day that was." I, too, spent a day with my sister long ago on the coast of New England when the sea had frozen, and indeed, what a day that was. There's something that stuns one when this always-moving, ever-changing, rising and falling tidal body of water suddenly becomes solid and fixed in time and space. The day feels incredibly significant, even if nothing in particular is happening, because normal laws of nature seem suspended--everything is heightened and magical. I still remember every moment of that day with my sister on the beach, speaking in hushed and awed voices, and that memory deepens my own understanding of why the writer made this story occur on such a day. The sea's stasis mirrors that of the psyches of each of the characters in the story, all of whom are frozen in some moment they cannot seem to get past. That they each have made some real movement by the end of the film is very much the point--this frozen day creates quiet crises in each character which they must overcome, and the writer helps them through this process by pairing each one up. They're helped through their frozen states into some beginning of action towards their futures by one another. But the future is misty, impossible to know; it requires walking with trust into the unknown, and Rickman illustrates this beautifully at the end in a way which I will not give away here. The introspective, contemplative mood is maintained throughout the final titles, which I would recommend sitting through in order to hear the beautiful voice of Elizabeth Fraser (Cocteau Twins) singing "Take me With You."

"The Winter Guest" is that rare thing--a beautiful, quiet, understated film that moves you, makes you feel both the joy and sadness that comes with being human, and most of all offers the great gifts of faith in friendship, trust, and in the power of love to transform life even when life is hard, when you're stuck in your own personal mess with no visible way out, and need another to take your arm, hold you up and see you through, and are wise enough to realize it. I cannot recommend it enough.

In the last few years,I had caught bits and pieces of "The WinterGueast on cable, and, finally, I'd seen enough to know it was film I wanted for my library. When an attempted taping failed,I went toAmazon for the dvd. "The Winter Guest" covers the interactions of four pairs of characters on a freezing winter day in NorthernScotland.The principal characters, a widow and her aged mother, areplayed beautifully and realistically by real-life daughter and mothers acctresses, Oscar-winner Emma Tompson and Phyllida Law.Their interactions seem such honestand believable portrayals of the uneasy and sometimes brittle relationships between adult women and their mothers.These arecharacters the viewer cannot help but care for and want to protect.

My favoriteother character set were two elderly villageladies whose lives have come to focus on the funerals they attend.These crusty oldsters obviously share a friendship of many decades, and their story is heartwrenching. Young love and pre-adolescent foibles center the stories of the other two sets of characters., The plotting, while jumping, as it mut,to tell four stories,is crisp and honest, the acting is fine, and anyone who's been in thatpartof the world will not want to getback onto the tour bus without seeing how these touchingly real little dramas are resolved.This woulld be condemned by dolts as a "Chick Flick," but this 59-year old guy related to these characters, and I loved"The Winter Guest," as did my wife.

When you break it down, life comes in stages; not just stages of development, but stages that can last for a moment, an hour, a day-- or indefinitely. And they come unbidden and unannounced, like an uninvited guest that drops by and burrows into your very soul to ferret out the deepest hopes, dreams, needs and desires which-- consciously or subconsciously-- are a part of everyone who draws a breath upon the planet. In spring, that guest may bring the joy of rebirth and life; in winter, it may bring a reflection of need and confusion, a feeling of loneliness and loss, the desperation of uncertainty or even despair, all born in that seemingly endless moment of searching and seeking out that elusive and intangible something that lies ahead, just out of reach. The winter guest you can neither refuse nor turn away that is desolation of spirit; a visitor to whom we are introduced in "The Winter Guest," directed by Alan Rickman.

It's an especially cold February in a small village on the coast of Scotland; even the ocean is frozen for as far as the eye can see. And in the harsh wind that blows in from that frozen sea, we find Frances (Emma Thompson), a woman who has lost her husband, and visited by the winter of indecision is held fast in her confusion, unable to move on with her life. There to help her find the warmth of spring is Elspeth (Phyllida Law), her mother, who needs Frances as much as Frances needs her, though neither can find a way to break through the chill that has engulfed their souls. Then there is Alex (Gary Hollywood), Frances's son, still in school, but on the brink of maturity awaiting on the other side of his own winter, a taste of which he samples in the form of Nita (Arlene Cockburn), a local girl who takes a fancy to him.

Before it's through, the winter guest will visit others, as well; those in every stage of life. At one end of the spectrum are Lily and Chloe (Sheila Reid and Sandra Voe), elderly friends who seem to stave off the inevitable by attending funerals. At the other end are Sam and Tom (Douglas Murphy and Sean Biggerstaff), boys on the cusp of adolescence, who during their visit will learn that being of a like age does not put them at the same stage of life. And as the story unfolds, in each relationship a different stage of life is revealed and examined, and we see the effects of this winter guest on each.

Written by Rickman and Sharman Macdonald (adapted from Macdonald's play), this film is a study in contrasts, a pensive portraiture of life; sparse and reflective, Rickman captures in it the human condition at it's most fragile, and therein finds beauty. He uses the original music (written and performed by Michael Kamen) sparingly, opting instead for the sound of the wind, the cry of the gulls overhead or just a backdrop of silence to underscore the dialogue and the drama of the story, all to great effectiveness. By so doing, he allows the drama to speak for itself, to play out thoughtfully and in such a way that the audience is drawn in and included, very reminiscent of Ingmar Bergman's style, though perhaps a bit more wistful at times. And Rickman allows so many wonderfully telling moments in this film: The young boy, Tom, looking out at the vast frozen ocean that seemingly extends on and on forever, as if he is looking out upon his own life, which even now is extending on ahead of him, forever; or Frances, looking out upon that same ocean, a frozen sea reaching out into the unknown, even as her own life is moving on toward an unknown destination; Sam, the same age as Tom, yet younger, watching from the shore, not yet ready and therefore unable to follow as Tom ventures out into the mists that cover the frozen waters. And there's more: Alex and Nita embracing their passion; Chloe, falling and grabbing hold of a railing for support, then finally reaching out to Lily; Elspeth and Tom, sitting together on a rock and sharing a moment at the shore; Frances taking Elspeth by the arm and helping her. All moments that are profound in their simplicity, and all wonderfully presented by Rickman, with not only the eye, but the heart, of a true artist.

Phyllida Law gives an especially engaging performance as Elspeth, as does Voe as Chloe; and Biggerstaff and Murphy are a delight to watch as Tom and Sam. But the lovely Emma Thompson steals the show as Frances, with a superb, introspective and reserved performance that is entirely captivating. She successfully conveys that deepest yearning that so readily identifies the winter into which Frances has entered in her soul, and her scenes with Law (her real life mother) are a subtle expression of reality, and a joy to behold. But again, it's the prolonged moments of silence--created and staged so well by Rickman-- that are beguiling, and say so much about who Frances really is. it's such a treat to find a film in which the director is wise enough and so willing to allow enough time for his performer to do what she does best-- as Rickman did with Thompson here-- the positive impact of which is certainly evident in the depth of Thompson's portrayal of Frances.

The supporting cast includes Tom Watson (Minister) and Alan Rickman (Man in the Street). Rickman found beauty in the bleak, frozen landscape of that small, Scottish village, then translated it so well into a representation of those troubling and disorienting transitional periods that can visit us at any given stage of our lives. And, combined with his artistic eye and insight into human nature, it makes "The Winter Guest" a film to be embraced and cherished. It's an experience you'll long remember.

This is a sapphire of a film, a shimmering vision of loneliness and longing. Emma Thompson makes you feel the ice-dagger of heartache, Phyllida Law makes you feel the wrenching fear of abandonment. The film is subdued, but it can be no other way. We are voyeurs, guests of their pain swept in upon the chill of the film's wintry winds, and swept out to sea as befits those who encounter such desolation. A marvelous work of restraint and atmospheric elegance. Five Big Stars!

Four sets of characters represent life's span. The time is Winter; weather, sea, and lives are frozen. Two mothers cope with loneliness. The older faces aging and infirmities, while her daughter wakes to widowhood, her husband having just died. Two children, schoolboys, worry about puberty and breaking away from mothers; two crones, ride busses to funerals, helping the deceased to be "re-membered"; two adolescents discover Eros, with its complications. The dialogue is short and staccato. The pairs assault each other like domestic couples cooped indoors too long. The Scottish brogue is cold and sharp as the ice and stone in the landscape.

The breathtaking beauty of the photography, set in a Scottish coastal village on the North Sea, features light on ice, rock, and snow. The frozen firth is an ice sculpture, blanketed in fog. In a stone sewer, the boys find two living kittens discarded in a box. The mother gropes along a rock wall and slips on cold steps; the adolescents tumble in snow and throw snowballs to attract attention.

Life and warmth are hidden under blankets and clothing. The characters bundle in coats; one wraps herself in a curtain drapery; and the rescued kittens are concealed in the boys' warm jackets. There is trouble with the furnace, so even the house is cold, but warm water penetrates the cold. Two characters take hot baths; feet are washed in a warm-water basin.

Miraculously, light and love penetrate each of these lives. There are more kinds of love than the male-female love of the widow for her husband or the young girl for the redheaded youth. The two mothers reaffirm love and need for each other as the younger decides to renovate her house, rather than flee to Australia. The most troubled schoolboy discovers he can walk into the unknown with his wee, miracle-of-life kitten in his jacket front. Unknown to him, his faithful pal is right behind, with the other kitten near his breast. The crones take pleasure in eating sweetmeats after a funeral (Mikhail Bakhtin's observation about a carnivalesque aspect of funeral rituals). One crone vows to take care of the other and they hobble along their ministry keeping the spirits of the departed alive.

The secret of this radiant film, the restrained action, and constricted dialogue, will be missed by most in the audience. Only adepts will get the meaning hidden in jackets and coats, like shoots and bulbs under snow. The winter guest is not the teenage girl visiting a boy whose mother is out, nor the chirping mother intruding on her widowed daughter. The date February; it must be February 2nd. The film is a Scottish "Groundhog's Day" movie. Without anyone knowing, or doing anything, the darkest quarter of the year slipped away and the spring quarter arrived. Vitality will come to every heart. It is quickening under the surface, as the warming water breaks winter's grip.

This is NOT an action thriller. It is quiet and studied.
But it's not Disney either: it stares hard into life's
awkward joys and painful times. This is a beautiful
psychological drama
about the transitional crises at all times of life,
and I got a surprising existential epiphany from it.
(about the two basic things you need to get on in life..
..see if you can find the commonalities!)
Pre-teen angst, young teen, widowed, and end-of-life concerns,
in a pretty, stark Scottish town on a frigid day.
It's up there with Groundhog Day, The Seventh Seal,
Lost In Translation, and The Spitfire Grill in my
meaning-of-life collection. Emma got slightly not-ring-true
a few times, but they all had funny, hard, bittersweet,
and enlightened times. Lovely group meeting scenes on the beach.
Thoughtful story, great cinematography,
good philosophical stuff.

It's a movie about people. Four "couples" from different generations are followed during one cold winterday in a small village in Scotland.You get know these people while the film continues.And in the end you really have the feeling that you've been there and lived with them that day. It's a magnificant movie and the best I've seen in years!!!

It's is one of the most touching, and tender tales I have ever seen. Both actors delivered splendidly! Youth, and aging ... teen angst ... dispair, pain ... and bitterness wrapped up in a quilt surrounded by beautiful Scotland. The snow setting, framed, and suspended time. Then finally, in the end ... acceptance of each life.