Did I watch the same film that the other reviewers here watched? Because I found nothing but obvious Oscar bait. It was as if someone wrote a list of every possible tear-jerking story cliché and checked off as many as they could fit within time and budget constraints. Horses? Check! War? Check! Plucky youngsters? Check and check! Plucky youngsters fighting to save the farm! Plucky youngsters fighting to keep the horse! Plucky youngsters who were previously enemies now getting along! Plucky youngsters severely wounded but staying plucky! I could go on. Really, I could. But all that's necessary to say is that almost everything you expect to happen does.
The cast is full of fantastic actors whose talent is disappointingly wasted in this film. I can't blame them, considering the schmaltzy script they had to work with ("It's a miracle horse!" - somebody actually says that. Actually, I think every character says that?). Emily Watson's brow furrows expertly. David Thewlis sneers as required. Peter Mullan stares remorsefully with perfection. Benedict Cumberbatch's mustache should win its own Oscar, and if an Oscar could be won simply for tearful lip quivering, Jeremy Irvine would win it for sure. I only wish I could have taken any of it seriously. Actually, I found myself caring more about the father's pennant than the horse.
Never have I seen such a display of dull writing, ham-fisted scripting, utterly scattered direction and overkill cinematography. It's no surprise they've evaded professional critics in screenings. I don't know who they've targeted everywhere else, but the audience at mine was largely seniors and veterans who all applauded it wildly. The younger audience members I saw did not seem to be so impressed. Some in my row were actually laughing quietly at all the wrong places. To be fair, perhaps this movie is really intended for a very specific demographic of which I'm not yet a member. Or perhaps, more likely, it was deliberately manipulative.
The cast is full of fantastic actors whose talent is disappointingly wasted in this film. I can't blame them, considering the schmaltzy script they had to work with ("It's a miracle horse!" - somebody actually says that. Actually, I think every character says that?). Emily Watson's brow furrows expertly. David Thewlis sneers as required. Peter Mullan stares remorsefully with perfection. Benedict Cumberbatch's mustache should win its own Oscar, and if an Oscar could be won simply for tearful lip quivering, Jeremy Irvine would win it for sure. I only wish I could have taken any of it seriously. Actually, I found myself caring more about the father's pennant than the horse.
Never have I seen such a display of dull writing, ham-fisted scripting, utterly scattered direction and overkill cinematography. It's no surprise they've evaded professional critics in screenings. I don't know who they've targeted everywhere else, but the audience at mine was largely seniors and veterans who all applauded it wildly. The younger audience members I saw did not seem to be so impressed. Some in my row were actually laughing quietly at all the wrong places. To be fair, perhaps this movie is really intended for a very specific demographic of which I'm not yet a member. Or perhaps, more likely, it was deliberately manipulative.