In Anand Tucker’s The Critic, an impressive British cast leads the audience through an enjoyable, if underwhelming, artistic thriller.
Ian McKellen plays the titular role of drama theatre critic Jimmy Erskine. As a critic at The Daily Chronicle in 1930s London, Erskine lives a lavish lifestyle as a “prince on a pauper’s salary”. He spends his days lapping up champagne at his exclusive gentleman’s club and his evenings viciously tearing apart the London theatre scene in a manner that earned him the nickname Beast.
When the previous laissez-faire owner of the Chronicle unexpectedly passes away, control of the newspaper and his title as Viscount is handed over to his modernising son (Mark Strong). Erskine will resort to great and terrible lengths to ensure that his position and status are kept, even going so far as to form a twisted alliance with Nina Land (Gemma Arterton). The ambitious, if flighty, theatre actress who has long suffered the keen bite of Erskine’s scathing theatre reviews.
McKellen obviously has a great deal of fun with this juicy role. Within the comical and searing character, he combines a dash-it-all attitude with genuinely villainous actions. Alongside this, McKellen employs expertly delivered and shrewdly constructed witty turns of phrase and caddy takedowns. It is a joy to watch him flex on screen.
Despite this intriguing and complicated character presented, it’s surprising that the film chooses not to follow him alone. Instead, the film shifts focus to the wider cast, a veritable who’s who of British independent cinema. Featuring rounded performances from Mark Strong, Ben Barnes, Leslie Manville, Gemma Arterton and Alfred Enoch, The Critic makes use of this strong supporting cast. Manville is granted quite a few memorable one-liners to make up for her shockingly little screentime, but the real stand-out performances come from Arterton and Strong.
Strong makes use of his well-recognised stoic visage, leading the viewer to assume more nefarious motivations from the Viscount, concealing a truly vulnerable character underneath. His performance elicits genuine sympathy and pity from the audience.
Arterton is simply given the most to do as the earnest ageing actress looking for immortality on the stage. Struggling to match her talent with her ambition, she jumps through many emotional turns through her twisted partnership with McKellen’s Erskine.
Credit must be given to the lighting and production design. Often in period pieces, the colour palette can be drab, or sepia-toned to reflect the past. Thankfully in this film, the production design leans into the Art Deco style of the period, marrying beautifully constructed sets with wonderfully original real locations. Often the screen is overcome with jewel tone lighting of deep ambers or sorrowful blues.
Despite beautifully constructed shots, a few genuinely funny lines and sympathetic character beats, this thriller never quite realises its full potential. The comedic moments are not present or consistent enough to define the story. While the thriller elements are not shocking or intriguing enough to mark it as a true edge of your seat thriller.
The most interesting character beats are often left underdeveloped in service of simply moving on to another plot point, without properly examining interesting threads in the interpersonal relationships.
The film misses out on an opportunity to live up to its namesake, to explore the rich relationship between the critic and the criticised. The dynamic between McKellen’s critic and Arterton’s actress is the most compelling relationship presented on screen, and worthy of further inspection. The film does not take that extra leap and instead remains focused on unveiling the thriller at hand, to mixed results.
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