No, she couldn’t but she did sing
Hilarious, yet poignant, thanks to a winning performance by its lead star Meryl Streep, the film Florence Foster Jenkins is an entertaining period film that carries much relevance to what we see is happening in the world of celebrity and entertainment today.
Directed by Stephen Frears, who has made biopics something of a specialty ( among others, he has given us The Queen, Philomena and the Lance Armstrong film,
The Program), the film celebrates the notion of life led with passion, and what can still happen when that passion is not matched with talent — when dreaming big and failing even bigger define a life well- lived.
Set in 1940s New York, and the cultural scene presided in one niche by the likes of patroness Jenkins and her Verdi Club; we follow the semi- tragic relationship of Jenkins and her husband St. Clair Bayfield ( Hugh Grant). She rubs elbows with the likes of Toscanini and loves light opera and singing, while Bayfield is himself a frustrated actor.
Bayfield has a love nest with a mistress, as his relationship with Jenkins is non- physical due to syphilis that she contracted from her first husband. The plot thickens as Jenkins, well in her 60s, decides to kickstart a singing career and goes in search of a piano accompanist.
Eventually, the position goes to Cosme McMoon ( Simon Helberg from the Big Bang TV series, who in real life is an accomplished pianist). And her dream is to give a recital at the fabled Carnegie Hall.
The film succeeds because Streep provides the right balance between laughing at her on one hand, and being moved and sympathetic to her character on the other hand. We recognize how awful her singing can be when thrust into the public eye; yet we empathize and understand why she does it.
Grant also turns in a wonderful, mature portrayal as Bayfield, devoted and loving while philandering. And the scenestealer here is Helberg as Jenkins’ accompanist. His facial expressions alone as he discovers what her singing talent is like, while recognizing she is his meal ticket, are priceless.
In a world where the likes of Tiny Tim, and even William Hung, had their 15 minutes of fame, Jenkins stands as the original. She sold out Carnegie Hall; and in today’s world where celebrity, power or money can guarantee mediocre talent in singing, acting, art or whatever, will see the light of day. Who are we to begrudge what Jenkins reached for? This sudden interest in Jen- kins and the notion of amateur talent being classified as art also saw France utilizing a thinly-veiled version of Jenkins in the muchlauded film, Marguerite.
As for Frears himself, some of his films have been reviled by critics so he joked it’s a feeling he knows well. As Jenkins says in one of her closing lines, “They can say I couldn’t sing, but they’ll never say I didn’t sing!”