REVIEW – A Beautiful Sight “On Chesil Beach”, Even When the Relationship Drama Falters

by Joe Hammerschmidt

[NOTE: This film had shown, and was reviewed during the 2018 Seattle International Film Festival

Romantic period pieces have had their ins and outs with my own perception of film as of late, and while they may not be my favorite cup of tea still, evidence proving otherwise is easier to discover. When the right source material comes along, that’s one thing. Pair it up with two confident leads making a gravity-free leap from one project to the next without any stops, and it rises to a higher degree. Ian McEwan’s novel “On Chesil Beach”, I had never even heard of until the film came around. Already, I imagine the page-worthy interpretation would lend itself to a heightened sense of imagination; the one thing its cinematic counterpart supposedly lacks in translation. It’s not something one looks for actively, yet in a film of such high classical aging, though not by much, its muteness is the only thing preventing one’s full enjoyment of a slight slog or a complete bouquet of beauty.

McEwan and first-time feature director Dominic Cooke use their collective literary and theater experience to deliver something slightly unconventional yet overtly familiar glimpse at a mismatched fling gone off the rails the moment intimacy is considered. Early-60s England, just by the coast in the sight of summertime. Florence Ponting (almost Oscar-winner Saoirse Ronan), a young musician, had fallen madly for grad student Edward Mayhew (Billy Howle, seen last year in Dunkirk), even made the rush choice of marriage. Multiple flashbacks while ruffling through the day of their post-nuptial reception show their relationship is nothing short of magical, if not impossible to comprehend its potential for insanity. However, as they discover through the day, and in events leading up to, neither are lending a boost of confidence to “being married”, and the ever-pivotal “consummation”, with Florence being entirely uninitiated on the joys of sex.

The tension that builds up to this first day of their supposed honeymoon in the film’s titular location is what keeps the film on the straight and narrow. Understandably, it’s farthest from the best romantic dramedy to take place in an older time, even considering the distant future in the later third act. McEwan and Cooke are clearly treating the work here more like a theatrical play than a film, the acting by both Howle and Ronan best representative of stage production traits. Sean Bobbitt’s (Queen of Katwe) photographic style aids in lending toward the aesthetic of that bygone era, its dingyness combined with old school locational design. And of course, the beach itself hasn’t looked any more beautiful in any other film, that one would be most familiar with. One may think twice before overlooking a perfectly cloudy day free of rain after witnessing how to shoot against those parameters without squeamishness. Best to leave it to the cast.

Of course, Ronan plays the hesitation card too well, further expanding her craft with the prospects of age. Whereas Lady Bird accomplished her sense maturity as the least immature person one would consider being around, her role in Chesil is almost the reverse, fighting moments of raw immaturity in yet another opaque journey of self-reflection, while staying very composed. Meantime, the otherwise cowering Howle figuratively sits in the stands, just unsure of when to interject aside from when he commits the wrongful social faux pas one hadn’t intolerantly expected.

All of McEwan’s enjoyable cliff notes don’t always show off its intended effect; the storyline we grow so comfortable with is also riddled with holes so large one wonders how it can stay so poignant throughout, with one false ending too many, and more unnecessary deviations from the present timeline than considered essential to fulfilling the lead’s commitments. The leads, flawed as they are, enjoy wedded bliss, they propose a conflict, struggle to seek a positive solution, and draw out the end result into nonsequitors that simply do not belong. As a side story, sure; possible seeds for a sequel 20 years from now,why not? But where it lies within the already improbable narrative structure McEwan stubbornly reinforces, that cinematic translation only increases in its given shortfalls.

The desire to love more is deservedly justified the way a novel like On Chesil Beach is adapted off the confines of a dramatic, yet rather short, novel. And perhaps, through Cooke’s own interpretation, any form beyond film would make more logical sense. Characters’ strengths stay very consistent, yet their situational value loses itself in a flurry of unwarranted plotpoints and misorganized execution. It is nonetheless impossible to fall deep for their relationship, even learning to embrace the flaws to discover its specific beauty marks. Ronan increases her performer’s range, Howle has a few rough edges to fix, McEwan remains a driving force for the written word. Cooke may be best to stick to the stage for a while, attempting more experimental material. It’s all an odd match, end of the day; certain moments spotted throughout, where the closest relative nature to a real working relationship on the skids make the whole effort worth its admission price, if for nothing else than a captivating final shot suitable for framing on one’s living room wall. (B-)

On Chesil Beach opens in Seattle this weekend; AMC Pacific Place 11 and Cinemark’s Lincoln Square in Bellevue; rated R for some sexual content and nudity; 110 minutes.