Review of Tamara Drewe (2010) by Gavin M — 22 Oct 2010

The countryside is home to many a wonderful thing: fresh rolling green hills as far as the eye can see; bold trees boasting beautiful leaves of emerald green, fading in the autumn months to russet browns; casual racism, in-breeding and a strong sense that you've wandered onto the set of a Deliverance sequel. Now rural England is the backdrop for Stephen Frears' (Director of High Fidelity, Dirty Pretty Things, The Queen and one of the best dramas to hit telly boxes ever, The Deal) and writer Moira Buffini's new comedy.

In 2005 Posy Simmonds' regular comic strip "Tamara Drewe" was published in the Guardian. A modern adaptation of Thomas Hardy's novel "Far From the Madding Crowd", it transferred the fictional nineteenth century farming community of Wessex to a modern day middle class haven named Ewedown. Bathsheba Everdine, a wealthy farm owner fending off the admirations of three men now becomes the titular Tamara Drewe, a local girl who moved to the city to find success in journalism, now returning to her home town. Her suitors too were given contemporary revamps. Patient shepherd Gabriel Oak becomes local hunk-cum-handyman Andy Cobb; dashing soldier Sargent Troy is now roguish rock star Ben Sergeant , and the tragically obsessed country gent William Boldwood is converted into successful crime novelist and serial adulterer Nicholas Hardiment.

Although the subtle grace of Posy Simmond's comic strip is not fully realised in the adaptation, what is achieved is fantastic. The most remarkable aspect of the film is its form. Although its posters and trailers advertise it to be a bouncy, happy romantic comedy, in reality the film is a much more different beast.

Sure, the humour is light hearted and perhaps even quirky in places. It's easy why some people would be put off by the film, seeing its corny posters plastered on double-decker buses around the country. However, in its most dramatic moments the film takes a dark turn. Instead of being shown a wonderful, romanticised portrayal of rural England, we're handed something a lot more real. The characters are imperfect; they're deceitful, vicious. Every time we think we can trust someone, they show their true colours. Roger Allam's author Nicholas hops from being a friendly, passionate writer, to a vile, two-timer at the drop of a hat. A complete reversal of this is Dominic Cooper, who as rock star Ben, swaggers around, overbearing and smug, frothing to the brim with his own self importance; nevertheless there is tender side to him. Even Glen, a failing American academic played by Bill Camp, who seems like the sweetest man in the world, chooses not to tell Nicholas' wife Beth an extremely important truth. She's told a lie so confidently, it makes you want to dig your fingers into your thighs. In fact, Tamsin Greig as Beth is one of the stand-out performances of the film. As an actor who rarely gets such wide exposure, it's a delight to behold as she masterfully delivers a comedic yet painfully tragic portrayal.

It's rare to find a film which is charming, but at the same time can be bitterly analytical about contemporary life, and it's even rarer to see such an accurate portrayal of rural Britain.