Trying desperately to be epic
David Shariatmadari on The Edge of Love
20 June 2008

Matthew Rhys plays the poet Dylan Thomas; Sienna Miller, left, shows that there is some talent behind the hype

The scene is London during the Blitz. How do we know? Well, families shelter together in Tube stations; orange flashes light up the night sky; the dome of St Paul's rises unscathed among the ruins and, down in the Underground, a woman, her lipstick and hair immaculate, sings jazz ballads to keep people's spirits up.

So far, so clichéd. The Edge of Love, a film about Dylan Thomas, his wife Caitlin and their friends Vera and William Killick, holds nothing back when it comes to setting the scene. People suck endlessly on old-fashioned cigarettes, the lit tobacco crackling furiously. The costumes are all period-perfect and every inch of every set screams authenticity. But does all the effort pay off?

The film is not a straightforward biopic of Thomas (played with louche aplomb by Matthew Rhys). Instead, it focuses more closely on the two women in his life, his wife Caitlin (Sienna Miller), and his childhood friend Vera (Keira Knightley).

Having not seen one another for years, Vera and Dylan meet by chance in a London pub. Vera is the singer we saw during the opening sequence, entertaining the huddled masses deep underground. She's beautiful and talented, far too good for the drunken, lascivious Dylan. But she's obviously thrilled to see him, and there's an immediate sense the two have unfinished romantic business. When she turns up for their second date, however, Vera gets an unpleasant shock. Dylan is married and his wife, Caitlin, is obviously not to be messed with.

Still, Vera is not short of suitors and William (Cillian Murphy), an army captain and a fan of her singing, tries hard to convince her to go out with him. She brushes him off, not wanting to get involved with a soldier who might be about to go off and get killed.

But he persists, and with Dylan and Caitlin's encouragement (inveterate scroungers, they have by now moved into her flat) she eventually marries him. Days later, he leaves to fight in Greece.

In the meantime, Caitlin and Vera's friendship has blossomed. Caitlin, whom Dylan expects to attend to his every need while needing nothing herself, finds comfort baring her soul to a woman who is, in her own way, equally in thrall to the poet. Vera, for her part, is fascinated by Caitlin's free spirit, her hedonism and her risk-taking.

With William at war and Vera pregnant, the three decamp to south Wales, with Caitlin and Dylan's two young children in tow. They rent bungalows by the sea, and though they live separately, are rarely apart. Vera gives birth to a son, but the children are conspicuously ignored, with the parents wrapped up in their own adult drama.

Vera had, at first, longed for William to come back, but when receives a telegram with news of his imminent return she confides to Caitlin that her feelings have changed. Partly through guilt at having fallen in love with Dylan, and partly because she knows the precarious normality they have established will be completely unbalanced by William's return, Vera is no longer sure she wants him there.

Sure enough, when he does arrive William is unable to adapt to civilian life, let alone his wife and her friends' unconventional existence. He lashes out in spectacular fashion, bringing the whole dysfunctional edifice down around him.

In many ways The Edge of Love is a success. Rhys's Dylan may be irritating, but that's because he plays him as an arrogant, immature coward, and does so excellently. Sienna Miller, who's as well known for her off-screen escapades as for her acting, proves there is, after all, some talent behind the hype. Knightley, more sympathetic as a down-to-earth Welsh woman than the cut-glass heroine of Atonement, also puts in a fine performance.

But though I was almost seduced, particularly during the first 20 minutes or so, pretty soon cynicism kicked in. The Edge of Love is, quite simply, a bit pretentious. I had the feeling I'd seen a lot of it before, and Knightley wasn't the only reason Atonement sprang to mind. You get the feeling that this film, like Joe Wright's adaptation of the Ian McEwan book, wants desperately to be an epic of human emotion, and that grates. It tries to cover female friendship, creative genius, sexual liberation, the drama of war and, unsurprisingly, fails to pull it off. Part of the reason is that it's too polished, too studiedly "period".

Had it been a little less ambitious, taken itself a little less seriously, it might well have won me over. Instead, I was taken not, as the producers might have hoped, to the edge of love, but a much less exciting place: the edge of boredom.