Let me start by stating that I’m not a poetry fan (unless it’s a naughty limerick), but even if I were a fierce devotee, this dreary biopic would have faded my fervor forever. It follows poet Emily Dickinson (Cynthia Nixon) from her early years to her final reclusive, pain-racked days. This film is over 2 hours, but without the interminable pauses between EVERY line, it would run less than an hour. The pacing is dreadful, the stilted language borders on pretentious and the endless misery isn’t mitigated by the occasional readings of her poems. There are some attractive costumes and the stark gentility of the period is interesting, but the incredible tedium that pervades the pacing drains any hope of redemption. The best thing about the movie is the clever way they morphed the family members from their teen versions to the adult actors.

 

(1.5 / 5)