Michael Lown
BartoSt Trinians: where the wild things are
April 20th 2008 03:33
I am so very late on the review front for this movie it seems unnecessary. Unnecessary is never really something that halts me in my tracks, but I will be brief.
St Trinian’s, a remake of a broad comedy from 1954 called The Belles of St Trinian’s, is a rather uneven, mostly amusing, but ultimately forgettable British romp. If you are over 25 you may want to walk out, if you are under 12 the content is quite inappropriate but you’ve probably already googled half of it. For all of those in between there is some light, anarchic joy to be had from the proceedings.
St Trinian’s is the worst school in Britain, and the government is determined to make it clean up it’s act. The minister for education, Colin Firth in a wet shirt, engages in a battle of wits with the headmistress, Rupert Everett in drag. It doesn’t help that they have a romantic past. Meanwhile it is up to the students, led by head girl Kelly, to pull off Mission: Impossible 4 – jaunty heist.
I realized what felt most novel about this is the fact that it is not an American teen comedy. The slapstick is bawdy, and the wit is a little subtler (though maybe it’s the English accents that give that impression).
The cast is perfect almost across the board. Certainly the adult (and you will recognize each of them, like they had a dead week in the calendar and wanted to make something their unappreciative children might actually consent to watching) contingent seems to be having fun. Firth and Everett are hysterical. The school girls seem game, though I definitely don’t remember wearing fishnets in year 10, and give sound performances.
The one piece of utter miscasting is the two scenes in which Mischa Barton imposes her impossibly unskilled presence. I am happy to say I think the movie industry might be on the cusp of realizing she can NOT act. Surely even she must be coming to this fatal truth – she opted out of taking the role of Kelly, which would have sunk this ship from the word go. Barton needs to retire with what dignity she has left post plea bargain, and make a couple of exercise videos if her bank account needs plumping. Her character is pointless, and I spent the entire time she was in shot trying to figure out what she was doing with her accent. I found myself inventing a backstory for her to justify her American lilt with a side of Brit and a touch of Canadian. I do not want to be working that hard while watching a movie about high school students performing a robbery during a quiz show.
Mischa rant aside, this movie is a cupcake. It’s pretty, good fun, and then filled with guilt. Suddenly you feel like you should be jogging, or watching Dogville to depress yourself and make up for it.
St Trinian’s, a remake of a broad comedy from 1954 called The Belles of St Trinian’s, is a rather uneven, mostly amusing, but ultimately forgettable British romp. If you are over 25 you may want to walk out, if you are under 12 the content is quite inappropriate but you’ve probably already googled half of it. For all of those in between there is some light, anarchic joy to be had from the proceedings.
St Trinian’s is the worst school in Britain, and the government is determined to make it clean up it’s act. The minister for education, Colin Firth in a wet shirt, engages in a battle of wits with the headmistress, Rupert Everett in drag. It doesn’t help that they have a romantic past. Meanwhile it is up to the students, led by head girl Kelly, to pull off Mission: Impossible 4 – jaunty heist.
I realized what felt most novel about this is the fact that it is not an American teen comedy. The slapstick is bawdy, and the wit is a little subtler (though maybe it’s the English accents that give that impression).
The cast is perfect almost across the board. Certainly the adult (and you will recognize each of them, like they had a dead week in the calendar and wanted to make something their unappreciative children might actually consent to watching) contingent seems to be having fun. Firth and Everett are hysterical. The school girls seem game, though I definitely don’t remember wearing fishnets in year 10, and give sound performances.
The one piece of utter miscasting is the two scenes in which Mischa Barton imposes her impossibly unskilled presence. I am happy to say I think the movie industry might be on the cusp of realizing she can NOT act. Surely even she must be coming to this fatal truth – she opted out of taking the role of Kelly, which would have sunk this ship from the word go. Barton needs to retire with what dignity she has left post plea bargain, and make a couple of exercise videos if her bank account needs plumping. Her character is pointless, and I spent the entire time she was in shot trying to figure out what she was doing with her accent. I found myself inventing a backstory for her to justify her American lilt with a side of Brit and a touch of Canadian. I do not want to be working that hard while watching a movie about high school students performing a robbery during a quiz show.
Mischa rant aside, this movie is a cupcake. It’s pretty, good fun, and then filled with guilt. Suddenly you feel like you should be jogging, or watching Dogville to depress yourself and make up for it.
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