Review: Firelight
"In the firelight you do what you want, say what you want, be what you want. When the lamps are lit again, time starts again, and everything you said or did is forgotten. More than forgotten, it never happened." Screenwriter William Nicholson (Shadowlands, Nell) debuts as director with the strangely inviting Firelight, a melodramatic period piece that recalls yesteryear's first-rate soapers. Take a little of Anatole Litvak's superlative All This, and Heaven Too, mix it with another Bette Davis film, The Old Maid, and add a dash of Jane Eyre: Firelight. Nicholson's directorial debut is certainly derivative but, in a sense, intentionally so.
The film begins with Elisabeth (Sophie Marceau), a Swiss-born, French-raised young woman, sitting in a dimly lit room being interviewed by a man's disembodied voice. Due to her father's immense debt, she agrees to spend three days with this man in order to give him a child. He, in turn, will pay off her father's debts. On the first night, she lies still beneath him, her face turned away. On the second night, she buries her face in his neck and later, believing him to be asleep, whispers, "I don't want to know your name. I don't want to know anything about you." On the third, they admit their growing feelings for one another and share a passionate night. The next day, they bid farewell. "We've made an agreement," Elisabeth tells him. "I accept it."
Nine months later, she delivers a baby girl, which is immediately taken from her. Six years pass and she has not forgotten her English daughter; she keeps a scrapbook of watercolored flowers for her lost child. When she arrives as a governess on Charles' doorstep, it is with full knowledge that her ward Louisa (Dominique Belcourt) is her own flesh and blood. The man she spent those three nights with is the aristocratic Charles (Stephen Dillane), who is understandably shocked but agrees to retain her on the condition that she does not reveal her true identity to Louisa.
Firelight does intoxicate though its somewhat slowly paced beginning drops no hint of the gem to come. The film is beautifully shot by Nic Morris. He and Nicholson create stark tableaus in sea foam greens and pale grays. The seaside scenes, during Charles and Elisabeth's three-day tryst, are particularly noteworthy. Charles' estate features a spectacular set piece: one has to travel through what looks like an empty greenhouse, open its doors and view a miniature lake house reachable only by boat or a swim. This is Louisa's haven; she spends hours talking to the mother she's never had.
Her own relationship with her true mother is a combative one. Their battles in the schoolroom often call to mind the turbulent partnership of Helen Keller and Annie Sullivan. Like Sullivan, Elisabeth wants to teach her pupil to better herself. Knowing how to read and write will make her independent and intelligent. Women have no rights, she tells Louisa in one scene, they're the property of their husbands. The only ways out are to be a governess or a prostitute.
Belcourt as the spoiled Louisa is a find. She's positively withering in her first scenes with Marceau. "You're poor, I suppose," Louisa greets. "Yes," Elisabeth replies. "I don't have to do what you say," Louisa cuts. Marceau carries herself with pride. Some may deem her performance wooden and expressionless. I would agree. However, it must be noted that the French have a different sensibility than Americans do. They are proficient in emotionally abstract characterizations; subtlety is their base. Furthermore, the character of Elisabeth must be staunchly unfeeling: she cannot reveal her feelings for her daughter nor her unrequited love for Charles. Marceau handles her role with French aplomb and is quite affecting.
It is Stephen Dillane, however, who impresses. There is not one false emotion in his performance. With Louisa, he is adoring father. With Elisabeth, he is yearning and repressed lover. With Amelia, his comatose wife, he is loving and dutiful husband. With his father (an engaging Joss Ackland), he is tolerant son. With Constance (an amazing Lia Williams), he is courteous brother-in-law. When Constance takes his hand and declares her love, he sits stiffly and slowly extricates his hand from hers. It is a gesture that is cruel in its propriety. "My desire has destroyed everything," Elisabeth sobs near the film's end. But she is unapologetic for loving him. "Then we deserve each other," Charles replies. Dillane laces this line with an ambiguity, all the more intriguing when you consider his sins. All of the above, Dillane performs with a perspicacity more actors should possess.
Firelight
Directed by: William Nicholson
Written by: William Nicholson
Starring: Sophie Marceau, Stephen Dillane, Dominique Belcourt, Kevin Anderson, Lia Williams, Joss Ackland
