Kila Lord Cassiday | Bouquets & Brickbats

06/06/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

It’s 1817 and England is beset by both a Jacobite uprising and a massive pox outbreak – and the Savages are in dire straits. Oh sure, they live in a great big mansion, replete with massive oil paintings and fancy gardens, but Sir Chauncy Savage (Richard E Grant) is an utter rake and has somehow managed to gamble away all of the land that surrounds the house. Now his creditors are closing in on him.

All that’s left of real value are Lady Savage (Claire Foy)’s family jewels. Luckily, despite the couple’s differences – and the fact that they choose to seek sexual gratification with their servants, Dorothy (Bel Powley) and Reginald (Jack Farthing) – the Savages clearly love each other. Meanwhile, their daughter, Fanny (Kila Lord Cassiday), concentrates on tending to the family of mice living in her doll’s house and preparing for an upcoming total eclipse of the sun, which many believe will signal unprecedented changes.

Sir Chauncy, we are told by The Narrator (Robert Bathurst), is something of an imposter, the son of a humble swineherd, while Lady S is from proper aristocracy. (The idea that working-class people aren’t allowed to aspire to nice things is an unpleasant subtext that writer/director Peter Glanz seems to ram home at every opportunity, mostly via the image of a huge pig wandering around the rooms of the Savage’s house.)

Things are beginning to look desperate. Then out of the blue, word arrives that the celebrated Duke and Duchess of Devonshire have requested permission to dine and sleep at Savage House in ten days time. Chauncy spots an all-important opportunity to improve his social standing and persuades his wife that they must not miss out. The aforementioned jewels are sold and Dorothy and Reginald are put to work sprucing the place up – though we soon discover that they have devious plans of their own…

Savage House is something of a mixed bag. Both Grant and Foy are wonderful in their roles, with Grant in particular revelling in the unhinged nature of Chauncy, who invites disaster at every turn. A scene where he performs a drunken dance despite suffering agonising gout is a high point – as is a duelling sequence where Adriano Goldman’s cinematography briefly evokes the grandeur of Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon. There’s also a wonderful orchestral score of classical compositions, though this too reminds me of an earlier (and better) film – Peter Greenaway’s The Draughtsman’s Contract.

The film also seems obsessed with focusing on the most unpleasant aspects of life in the 1800s. It never misses the opportunity to focus on piles of steaming excrement, streams of rancid pus, wriggling leeches and acts of lewd sex. A scene where a gangrenous limb is sawn off is shown in such unflinching detail that I almost feel the need to cover my eyes. Those who are squeamish about vermin may find themselves in similar straits at regular intervals. (Susan, I’m looking at you!)

As one disaster after another assails Chauncy’s boundless ambitions, and his unfettered hubris leads him inexorably to a tragic conclusion, I find myself hoping for a single ray of sunshine to pierce the unremitting gloom. But sadly, that isn’t allowed to happen – and the bleak ending feels disappointingly flat as a consequence.

We leave the cinema discussing potential ways that such illumination might have been achieved, but the film is already in the cinemas where it is sure to divide audiences. Though it occasionally hits the heights, one thing’s for certain. Savage House isn’t short of ambition.

3.4 stars

Philip Caveney

19/11/22

Netflix

Emma Donoghue’s The Wonder is a little jewel of a novel, a bleak tale seen entirely through the eyes of its main protagonist, Lib. Because the original story is so insular, I wondered if it would be a suitable subject for a film, but director Sebastián Lelio (who co-write the screenplay with Alice Birch) has done a creditable job of opening up the original vision, even throwing in some post-modernist flourishes to accentuate the artifice of the situation. The opening scene depicts a contemporary film studio, complete with lighting rigs and other equipment before the camera pans right and zooms in to the hold of a nineteenth century sailing ship, where Lib (Florence Pugh) is eating a meal. From the very beginning, Leilio seems to be warning us not take everything we see on face value. The Wonder, after all, is also a story of deception.

It’s 1862 and English nurse Lib Wright has been summoned to a remote Irish village to stand watch over the Wonder of the title – eleven year old old Anna O’ Donnell (Kila Lord Cassiday), who, it is claimed, has not eaten a morsel of food in four months and yet remains in apparently perfect health. Lib is understandably sceptical, but the local clergy, led by father Thaddeus (Ciarán Hinds), are keen to claim this as a bona fide miracle, a feather in the cap of the Catholic church. Dr McBrierty (Toby Jones), on the other hand, prefers to see Anna as some bizarre new mutation. Has she developed the ability to photsynthesise? Lib’s task will be to keep a close watch on Anna around the clock, alternating shifts with a nun, Sister Michael (Josie Walker), so that – if there is any secret feeding going on – it will soon come to light.

Lib’s suspicions are shared by newspaper journalist Will Byrne (Tom Burke), who has been despatched to his old stamping ground to investigate the claims, but the truth behind these ‘saintly’ events is well hidden and hard to root out…

The Wonder makes a successful transition from novel to film, largely because of Pugh’s sterling performance in the lead role, as well as through Ari Wegner’s moody cinematography, which somehow contrives to make every frame look like the work of a classic artist – Jan Vermeer perhaps, or Caravaggio. There are also a few moments where Anna’s older sister, Kitty (Niamh Algar), who also serves as the story’s narrator, breaks the fourth wall and addresses the viewer directly. Some may find these touches intrusive but, for me, they are so effective they have me wishing there were more of them and that Algar had a little more to do in the story – she’s a superb actor and this is little more than a supporting role.

Donoghue’s source novel, a scathing criticism of the Catholic faith and the gullibility of its followers, emerges intact – and those who anticipate a headlong plunge into despair should take heart. The film’s conclusion is more positive than you might expect.

4 Stars

Philip Caveney