Fever descends into a bloomin’ farce
Tulip Fever (M, 105mins) Directed by Justin Chadwick ★★
Dutch artist Judith Leyster’s 17th century flower studies offer more life than this airless period drama.
Perhaps leaving this on the shelf for three years was one thing producer Harvey Weinstein did get right, although its release now in the midst of the current maelstrom surrounding him seems almost cruel to all the others involved in this creation.
Based on Deborah Moggach’s 1999 novel of the same name, Tulip Fever is the story of Sophia (Alicia Vikander).
Plucked from St Ursula’s to be the new bride of Amsterdam’s selfproclaimed ‘‘King of Peppercorns’’ Cornelis Sandvoort (Christoph Waltz), her role is to give him the heir he so desperately desires.
But after three years without success, a six-month deadline is imposed with the threat that her opulent finery will be replaced by the nunnery. In the meantime, Cornelis comes up with another plan to ensure his legacy – commissioning young artist Jan van Loos (Dane DeHaan) to create a double portrait of the Sandvoorts.
However, the more time Jan spends studying Sophia’s features, the more he becomes enamoured with the original, rather than the copy he is creating.
Myriad problems mar director Justin Chadwick’s (The Other Boleyn Girl) listless movie.
The biggest issue is one of tone, what starts out as a Philippa Gregory-esque drama then becomes a Titanic romance, before descending into farce.
This is a film where English comedian Johnny Vegas stars alongside Dame Judi Dench in what feels like two separate stories, and where Vikander (The Light Between Oceans) tries gamely to bring gravitas to the tale, while Waltz (Spectre) perfects his pantomime villain schtick and DeHaan (Valerian) fails to convince as a romantic lead.
Credit Holliday Grainger (My Cousin Rachel) with a game performance as Sophia’s maid Maria, but Tom Hollander’s comic ‘‘doctor of female mysteries’’ and Cara Delevingne’s lady of the night jar appallingly.
Perhaps that’s the fault of the editing, which feels choppy and affects the pacing badly. It also seems to do Moggach’s and Tom Stoppard’s (Shakespeare in Love) script no favours.
Although surely the issue of the sometimes tin-eared dialogue, more than enough of which concerns Cornelis ‘‘and his little soldier’’ or the price of tulips, can only be their fault.
All in all, Tulip Fever is simply a blooming disaster. – James Croot