The Critic (2024)

The Critic transports us to 1930s London, where Ian McKellen stars as Jimmy Erskine, a caustic theatre critic whose sharp tongue and even sharper pen strike fear into the hearts of West End performers. When his position at the Daily Chronicle is threatened by a new proprietor, Erskine concocts a devious scheme involving a vulnerable actress, played by Gemma Arterton. What follows is a tale of blackmail, deceit, and deadly consequences in the glittering world of London theatre.

McKellen’s performance is, without a doubt, the film’s saving grace. He brings Erskine to life with a delicious mix of venom and vulnerability, making the most of every sneer, slouch, and cigarette dangle. It’s a masterclass in character acting that almost makes you forget the film’s shortcomings. Almost.

The supporting cast, including Arterton and Mark Strong, do their best with what they’re given, but they’re often left twiddling their thumbs in underwritten roles. It’s a shame, really, as there’s potential for some juicy drama that never quite materialises.

Visually, The Critic is a feast for the eyes. The production design by Lucienne Suren is spot-on, capturing the elegance and decadence of 1930s London with meticulous attention to detail. From the plush theatre interiors to the smoky newspaper offices, every frame oozes period authenticity. The cinematography, too, is a highlight, with clever use of light and shadow to underscore the film’s noir-ish undertones.

However, for all its visual splendour, the film stumbles when it comes to storytelling. The plot, adapted from Anthony Quinn’s novel Curtain Call, starts promisingly but loses its way in the second half. What begins as an intriguing exploration of power, criticism, and morality in the arts devolves into a convoluted mess of melodramatic twists and turns. It’s as if the film can’t decide whether it wants to be a thoughtful period drama or a campy thriller and ends up being a not-quite-satisfying mix of both.

The pacing is another issue. Director Anand Tucker seems unsure of how to maintain momentum, resulting in a film that alternates between languid character moments and jarring plot developments. The editing doesn’t help matters, with abrupt scene transitions that often leave you feeling like you’ve missed something important.

That said, there are moments when The Critic shines. The verbal sparring between Erskine and his antagonists crackles with wit, and there’s a palpable tension in scenes where Erskine’s carefully constructed façade threatens to crumble. These glimpses of what could have been make the film’s shortcomings all the more frustrating.

The film’s exploration of the critic’s role in society is intriguing, if not fully realised. It raises interesting questions about the power of the pen and the fine line between criticism and cruelty, but doesn’t delve deep enough to make any lasting impact.

In the end, The Critic is a bit like one of Erskine’s reviews—sharp in places but ultimately lacking in substance. It’s a film that promises more than it delivers, relying too heavily on McKellen’s considerable talents to paper over its narrative cracks.

If you’re a fan of period dramas or McKellen’s work, The Critic might be worth a watch for the performances and production values alone. But for those seeking a taut, satisfying thriller or a profound meditation on art and criticism, you might want to look elsewhere. It’s not a total flop, but like a play that doesn’t quite live up to its potential, The Critic leaves you wishing for a rewrite.