Starry drama wilts in Weinstein’s shadow
Tulip Fever 15 cert, 105 min Dir Justin Chadwick Starring Alicia Vikander, Christoph Waltz, Dane Dehaan, Holliday Grainger, Jack O’connell, Judi Dench, Tom Hollander, Zach Galifianakis, Cara Delevingne, David Harewood, Matthew Morrison, Kevin Mckidd, Cressida Bonas
Around the turn of the Millennium, Harvey Weinstein produced a number of stately historical dramas as whimsical as they were blandly forgettable. Often featuring Judi Dench and a litany of classically trained British thespians, all were more or less indebted to Shakespeare in Love, Weinstein’s 1998 period romcom that improbably swept the Oscars and briefly became a pop culture phenomenon.
His handsome yet cripplingly dull Tulip Fever is every bit a throwback to that age of Chocolat and Captain Corelli’s Mandolin, awards-primed adaptations of Richard & Judy Book Club-esque bestsellers that tumbled out of memory as quickly as they were rejected by Oscar voters. But its jaunty tone and cobblestone aesthetics aren’t the only things lifted from an entirely different era, as Tulip Fever was filmed in 2014, just four years ago in literal terms but a veritable lifetime ago in terms of Harvey Weinstein.
Sputtering into UK cinemas, likely by contractual obligation, after a host of delays, reshoots and last-minute edits, Tulip Fever has dispensed with Weinstein’s disgraced name in its producer credits, but is covered in his grubby fingerprints – so hacked to pieces that it ends up being a misshapen curio, only occasionally hinting at what might have been.
Adapted from her own novel by Deborah Moggach and the usually reliable Tom Stoppard, Tulip Fever casts Alicia Vikander as a sad orphan married off to Christoph Waltz’s wealthy merchant, a man who repeatedly refers to his appendage as his “little soldier” and is desperate for an heir. Understandably repulsed, Vikander finds comfort with the man commissioned to paint her portrait (Dane Dehaan). Meanwhile, her maid (Holliday Grainger) is embroiled in her own affair with a randy fishmonger (Jack O’connell), with an unexpected pregnancy appearing to solve both women’s problems.
Set against the backdrop of the 17th-century “tulip fever” of the Netherlands, in which the newlyintroduced flower conjured a flash-inthe-pan bubble of competitive trading, the film every once in a while delves into the oddball hysteria of the age (Judi Dench is one of the film’s few saving graces as a ruthless abbess with a firm grip on the tulip trade), but so often navigates back to its central love triangle, which grows progressively more ludicrous as it goes along.
Director Justin Chadwick has form with lusty historical dramas, having directed the similarly loopy The Other Boleyn Girl in 2008, but Tulip Fever often feels one soapy contrivance too far for him, a situation not helped by clumsy post-production work and an unnecessarily starry supporting cast given little material to justify their presence.
Such a fascinating moment in Dutch history is deserving of a far better vehicle than an episode of Hollyoaks produced by Harvey Weinstein.