The Goldfinch Review – 411mania.com

Directed By: John Crowley

Written By: Peter Straughan; Based on the book by Donna Tartt

Runtime: 149 minutes

MPAA Rating: Rated R

Ansel Elgort – Theodore Decker

Oakes Fegley – Young Theodore

Nicole Kidman – Mrs. Barbour

Jeffrey Wright – Hobie

Ashleigh Cummings – Pippa

Willa Fitzgerald – Kitsey Barbour

Aneurin Barnard – Boris Pavlikovsky

Finn Wolfhard – Young Boris

Ryan Foust – Andy Barbour

Luke Wilson – Larry Decker

Sarah Paulson – Xandra

Boyd Gaines – Mr. Barbour

Hailey Wist – Audrey Decker

Brooklyn filmmaker John Crowley’s latest dramatic offering, The Goldfinch, arrives this month, courtesy of Warner Bros. While the film boasts an able, impressive cast and some admittedly high quality cinematic visuals from cinematographer Roger Deakins, it amounts to little but a disjointed, overly long, dull, highfalutin experience.

The Goldfinch follows the young Theodore Decker (Fegley), who loses his mother in a terrorist attack while visiting The Met. Somewhere in the chaos of the tragedy, Theo gained possession of a valuable painting from the museum, the eponymous “The Goldfinch” by Carel Fabritius, keeping it concealed. With his father out of the picture and his mother gone, Theo is taken in by high-society family the Barbours, and mainly cared for by the patriarch Mrs. Barbour (Kidman), who unwittingly puts Theo on the path to drug addiction.

After a time, Theo does begin to adjust to life with the Barbours, making friends with middle child Andy (Foust). He also connects with the antique salesman, Hobie Hobart (Wright), who was business partners with another victim Theo encountered during the attack. He’s also captivated by young Pippa, a girl Theo’s own age and aspiring musician who was injured in the attack. Unfortunately, he’s soon removed from his haute-culture environment when his deadbeat father Larry (Wilson) returns to reassert custody of his son. Poor Theo is then thrust into a miserable existence, coping in a desolate desert neighborhood outside Las Vegas with his abusive, alcoholic, compulsive gambling father and his girlfriend, Xandra (Paulson), with an X. Theo’s one lifeline is his new Ukranian classmate, Boris (Wolfhard), who introduces him to the wonders of getting high.

Eventually, the narrative progresses to an adult Theodore (Elgort), who grew up to become business partners with Hobie and reconnects with his previous foster family the Barbours. Unfortunately, Theo’s drug addiction grows worse, and his long-held secret of his purloined painting is coming dangerously close to becoming revealed.

Adapted from an award-winning book and boasting a cast of some esteemed talent, such as Academy Award winner Nicole Kidman, The Goldfinch is definitely ambitious in presenting a cinematic version of Haute cuisine. And while some of the ingredients are certainly there, the execution isn’t. The Goldfinch is a movie with grandiose goals, but its attempts at an emotional edge fall incredibly flat.

Crowley and writer Peter Straughan adapt an unconventional, anti-linear narrative for The Goldfinch, but it’s the epitome of cinematic indulgence. Perhaps some of the flaws are inherent to the novel, but the narrative is incredibly disjointed, switching between Theo’s adulthood, his youth with the Barbours and then his time with his father. There’s a narratively disingenuous subplot involving the revelation of Theo’s theft coming to light that adds conflict and suspense in the second half. However, it’s utterly inconsequential and later unceremoniously ignored.

In fact, there’s a whole thriller element that comes into the movie rather late that’s executed in a very clumsy fashion. As a result, these disparate elements never really meld together that serve to elevate the picture in a profound way, despite John Crowley’s lofty goals. Instead, The Goldfinch comes off as rather messy.

The Goldfinch is oddly reminiscent of Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice. While that might sound like a ridiculous comparison, the results are similar because they are both movies trying hard to be darkly serious and “artistic,” yet the final result feels empty. While the story spends so much time with Theo, his voice-over narration guides the audience, but he never transformers into a real character. His mother, who Theo tragically lost, is an object of his worship, but she never really becomes a real character. She’s more or less the driving force behind Theo’s guilt. Theo’s guilt and misery living with his deadbeat father lead him to drug addiction. And while there’s definitely a dark edge to the film’s depiction of early teen drug use, it comes off more as a way to boast how darkly serious the film is rather than an honest depiction of juvenile drug use.

To add to the film’s rather disparate style, the final act pays a great deal of lip service to the importance of classic artwork and paintings and why they exist. This moral messaging is clumsy as it seemingly comes out of left field. The entire movie Crowley and Straughan have been telling another story about this young man’s personal tragedy and how that led him to a life of fraud and drug use. It sends a rather mixed message because based on the earlier half of the film, Theo hardly came off as some pre-meditated mastermind thief. He was likely concussed and in shock after a traumatic event. Anyone in that situation would hardly be thinking straight and have their wits about them.

At one point, Crowley depicts young Theo cradling and hugging the painting in a type of fetal position. While the scene is unappealingly melodramatic, the presentation suggests the painting is his security blanket and a last memento from his dead mother that he is desperately trying to hold onto. It doesn’t appear to have been a malicious theft.

The most appealing aspect of The Goldfinch is its cast. It’s made up with a lot of familiar faces, including underrated veterans such as Luke Wilson, Jeffrey Wright and Sarah Paulson. Ansel Elgort is certainly a talented actor, but his performance here is lacking a real emotional core to latch onto. But the characters go on these deep, verbose, long-winded monologues that sound dramatic, but lack weight. It’s like Crowley has made a film consisting of montage reels for award seasons. Yes, there’s teen drug use, abusive relationships, star-crossed lovers who can’t be together. All those deeply dramatic elements are there. Crowley attempts to showcase them in a dramatic way, but they never come together as a cohesive whole. That said, the actors are clearly dedicated to the material.

The younger Theo, Oakes Fegley, certainly tries hard with a role that’s very challenging, dealing with some rather intense subject matter. However, Fegley and the younger version of Boris, Finn Wolfhard adopting a goofy and thick Russian accent, are never truly convincing. For example, there’s a scene where Theo confronts the other kid who apparently got him in trouble with the principal, indirectly causing the tragic trip to the museum for Theo and his mother. Theo lashes out and almost poses in a way that’s reminiscent of UFC fighter “Iceman” Chuck Liddell. It’s rather awkward and weird. And the subplot with the other kid never goes anywhere of note, much like numerous other subplots in the film.

Little can certainly be said against the film’s exceptional cinematography by Roger Deakins. At the very least, the film is lensed beautifuly and shot in a way that looks semi-abstract. At one point, it almost looks like a bird or Goldfinch is forming in the ground dust blown by the wind outside Theo’s miserable home in the Nevada desert.

The Goldfinch touches on many things between grief and loss, and the guilt that comes from surviving the traumatic experience Theo was subjected to. And yet despite most of the film being built around this, the movie ultimately settles with this strange message about artwork. Is that really the important lesson Theo needed to learn? Maybe what Theo really needed to learn is what happened to him was a senseless and tragic event. It wasn’t his fault. He had nothing to do with it, and he’s manufacturing his own guilt.

The Goldfinch subjects the audience to two-and-a-half hours of a moral resolution that’s utterly unsatisfying. The drawn out final act comes off as a narrative con job that’s more elaborate than the one depicted late into the film.