Mothering Sunday

Mothering Sunday is a British period drama (my favorite genre) set during the aftermath of the Great War (a time in history that fascinates me) featuring Colin Firth and Olivia Colman (two actors I admire greatly) about a forbidden romance between a servant and the son of an aristocratic family (swoon).  It seems to be a movie made especially for me and I went to see it last night believing that I would absolutely love it.  I didn't love it.  In fact, I found it to be quite underwhelming.  Jane Fairchild (Odessa Young) is a maid in the home of Godfrey (Firth) and Clarrie (Colman) Niven, a couple who are almost debilitated by grief because both of their sons were killed during the war.  On Mother's Day the Nivens give Jane the day off because they are joining their friends, the Sheringhams and the Hobdays, for lunch to celebrate the forthcoming marriage of their children Paul Sheringham (Josh O'Connor) and Emma Hobday (Emma D'Arcy).  The lunch is fraught with tension because Emma was going to marry Paul's older brother James but he also died in the war and she seems ambivalent about marrying Paul.  It turns out that Paul is only marrying Emma out of a sense of obligation and, instead of joining the families for lunch, he invites Jane, with whom he has been having a passionate affair, to his estate for a tryst.  They enjoy the morning together in bed and, after he leaves to attend the lunch, she stays and wanders around the house (completely naked, as one does) admiring the paintings and books.  Later in the day she receives some devastating news and makes the decision to leave service.  These episodes are periodically interrupted by scenes in the near future when, while working at a bookstore, Jane meets her future husband Donald (Sope Dirisu) who convinces her to use her experiences to become a writer.  It ends with an older Jane (now played by Glenda Jackson) winning a prize for her writing.  The images on the screen are beautiful and lyrical but they don't really amount to much of anything because they are a series vignettes rather than a cohesive narrative.  I was often bored with what was happening (so many close-ups of characters smoking) and, despite some great performances, I didn't feel a connection to the characters.  I was never really sure if this was an indictment of the rigid class system (there is a bewildering reference to a race horse running free at the beginning and end), an exploration of grief, or a portrait of the artist as a young woman.  None of these themes are explored with any depth and I spent most of the runtime waiting for something, anything, to happen.  I wanted to love this but I left the theater feeling disappointed.  I recommend giving it a miss.