Review of The Hours (2002) by Yuri O — 30 Jan 2009

Daldry masterfully arranges melancholic visuals in a clever adaptation of Michael Cunningham's novel. The viewer is invited to contemplate, from a distance at first, the lives of Mrs. Woolf, Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Dalloway. As the camera unfolds to let us see Mrs. Woolf's suicide in 1941, we are submerged in the still and murky waters of the search for happiness. From that point forward we live a day in the life of these three women. Daltry creates three different ambiances for each of the characters' lives. Craftily woven, these three stories commingle in three different epochs. We are witness to the three stories unfolding and creating a new enveloping narrative.

Every detail provides Mrs. Woolf (Nicole Kidman in prosthetic nose), the boredom and limitations of her gender in 20s London suburbs. Her mind wanders perilously between madness and greatness imagining/hearing some voices that translate to her novel 'Mrs. Dalloway,' and others that haunt her. We see how she starts conceiving her novel from the pieces that she is experiencing. We are also witness to the devotion of her husband, a man whose love for Virginia is both freedom and captivity. In Los Angeles in 1951, Mrs. Brown (Julianne Moore) wakes up to another version of suburbia. She picks up a book 'Mrs. Dalloway,' and starts engulfing the meaning, and perhaps the hidden pain of the writer. As her day progresses, she is also thinking about unbinding her trappings. Those trappings include her son, Richie, and her content and patient husband. Finally, we have Mrs. Dalloway (Meryl Streep), in late 90s New York City. Although she is actually Mrs. Vaunghn, Clarissa has been affectionately called 'Mrs. Dalloway' by her now AIDS-stricken friend. 'Mrs. Dalloway' also mirrors the life and wondering of Woolf's character in a new setting, and little by little she starts understanding the things that she has been latching to that make her happiness.

A fascinating score, by Phillip Glass, moves all these emotions into a cinematic swirl with the rest of the components. Technically, the writing is tight and close to the emotional rawness of Cunningham's novel. Ed Harris as the man dying of AIDS gives one of those marvelous performances that he is capable of: flawless and restrained from histrionics. Kidman builds on her performance abilities demonstrated last year by comparison of Luhrman's 'Moulin Rouge' and Amenabar's 'The Others.' Moore, on the other hand is as solid and dreamy, she is the embodiment of melancholy. Streep demonstrates why she is the grand dame of American film acting, by creating a role that brings hope amid the chaos of her fragile perception of her happiness.