Compelling story lost in translation

The Goldfinch

15, 149 mins

★★★★★

Leafing through the pages of cinema’s chequered history, it’s clear that Academy Award voters nurture an affection for films adapted from Pulitzer Prize-winning novels.

All The King’s Men by Robert Penn Warren claimed three golden statuettes in 1950 including Best Picture, The Caine Mutiny by Herman Wouk snagged seven nominations and To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee translated eight nods into three wins, including Best Actor for Gregory Peck.

The Color Purple by Alice Walker garnered an impressive 11 nominations (but famously won nothing on the night) while The Hours by Michael Cunningham competed in nine categories, securing Nicole Kidman the Best Actress prize for her portrayal of Virginia Woolf — complete with prosthetic nose.

The Goldfinch, adapted from Donna Tartt’s 2013 bestseller, bears the hallmarks of another serious awards contender. Director John Crowley’s previous film was the heartrending rites-of-passage drama Brooklyn, screenwriter Peter Straughan was Oscar-nominated for his elegant distillation of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, Devon-born cinematographer Roger Deakins won last year for Blade Runner 2049, the cast includes Kidman (left) concealed beneath ageing make-up and prosthetics, and the running time is almost two and a half hours. Alas, appearances are deceiving because Tartt’s compelling prose and storytelling have been hopelessly lost in a translation that marries a disjointed, chronologically fractured narrative with unsympathetic characters, who fail to make a palpable emotional impact on each other let alone touch us.

It’s a beautifully crafted mess and we are increasingly bamboozled and frustrated observers. The film is lavishly photographed but keeps us at arm’s length.

Kidman lights up her stilted scenes, while co-star Angel Elgort affects a permanent gaze of bewilderment in lustrous close-up.

We certainly know how he feels.