A Quiet Passion (*****)

A QUIET PASSION is a movie about intellect and wits. It's an account of the latter years of the life of Emily Dickinson, a woman whose poetry didn't become famous until after her death. It's fortunate that the film chooses to focus more on the woman than her process, because by all accounts the art of poetry is in and of itself incredibly subjective. What we witness instead is something all the more potent: a movie about the inevitability of death.

Terence Davies writes and directs this film with the sensibility of a theater director. In fact, many scenes play out in long, slow, panning shots, and actors overspeak dialogue as though trying to accommodate for audience members in the back row. Perhaps it's in keeping with the vernacular of Civil War-era Massachusetts. Perhaps it's a flourish of the director. Who knows. We learn everything about the Dickinson family just by the way they speak. With each "good day" they respond with a compliment. With each retort they snap back with wit and charm.

Emily Dickinson, herself, lived out her life in the solitude of her own home throughout her life. As played by Cynthia Nixon, she doesn't fear how big the world is - rather she willingly avoids it to focus on her work. Her sister Vinnie (Jennifer Ehle) is never far away, and the two share kindred spirits about the idiosyncrasies of religion and men. Ehle, who has had many small parts in the past, lights up the screen as a sister so full of love and compassion. It's like the great character of Melanie from Gone With The Wind (another selfless character as defined by Olivia DeHavilland); we may find flaws to critique, but always we know her to be a person of towering strength.

Nixon, herself, is the film's crowning achievement. What little we know about Emily Dickinson is revealed in so many wonderful moments that dig deep at the heart of this character with no more than a couple spoken words. In fact, the entire screenplay by Davies is a masterful work of charm and development. I can't think of one scene out of place, one word misspoken. What amazed me was how concise the drama was and how clever each scene found a way to end. Nothing is extraneous. There's a brief scene in which Emily and her father pray before a meal. Her father notices that the plate is dirty, and her smart response is to break the plate with a smile. "Now it's no longer dirty." Later on, Emily (now a recluse of her bedroom) is informed a houseguest is leaving. Vinnie tells her to come down, that "our guest is soon to depart." Emily simply asks "from this life?"

Even though we never really reach the heart of this elusive woman, the film wisely narrates sequences with Dickinson's actual poetry to highlight the emotional impact that simple visuals cannot. Even in the end, when Emily has died and her grave is being lowered into the ground, her words echo over a rainy landscape about how Death has finally stopped for her. There's something so hypnotic about this film, so absolutely wonderful and charming and enigmatic. It's a biopic of the highest order that chooses to bypass nearly all the traditional tropes of the genre. The end result is no less powerful.