Review of The Conductor

So, what we have here is a little-known true story of a young woman of Dutch extraction who is brought up in New York in the early 20th century and who develops an ambition to one day conduct an orchestra. Her name ends up being Antonia Brico (Don't ask) - ever heard of her? No, neither have I. The reason for this, as the film attempts to convey, is that then, as now, the role of a conductor is seen as exclusively a male prerogative. Naturally, this is an ongoing issue, but did Brico's minor attempts at breaking this closed shop warrant a full-blown movie, or has the story been severely exaggerated. I could not help but suspecting that it has. Meanwhile, what of the film itself (?) Well, it does look good, probably too good a lot of the time, in the way that classy Christmas adverts look good. There is also much close focusing on the main characters faces, some of whom are pleasant to look at. However, the camera rarely focuses on the eyes, where, shock-horror, depth of character might lurk. (Lets not confuse our audience, now). There is a mix of fixed camera shots, crane shots, and even hand-held camera shots, and you notice them because, firstly, they are so telegraphed, and moreover because the film is so slow paced and un-engaging that one begins to look for any point of attachment to prevent oneself from gently drifting into unconsciousness. A film such as this has to be carried by the central performance, and Christanne de Bruin, while being able to elicit sentiment from us, (In a way a lovable puppy might) is so out of her depth (Through her lack of any dramatic essence) that I found myself wincing for her rather than at her. The script is truly appalling, and along with the screenplay, reduces every single other character to even less than a cardboard cut out version of a real person. To attain this level of superficiality takes some kind of talent, and they nail it here. If you want to see a masterclass in how to spoon-feed your audience to a point where they accept being pandered to like they are encountering life depicted on screen for the very first time, then check out this supreme dud of a movie. Does it contain any redeeming features? Well, the movie briefly comes to life when our heroine travels to Amsterdam to uncover her true roots. This involves at one point entering a cloister, and a slither of tension is invoked by the possible breaking of the strict rules of silence within the Trappist order. (Yes, that really is a dramatic high-point in this arid tale) A nun communicates by scribbling on a chalk board, but she does so in such a frantic manner that the scene becomes Pythonesque in its absurdity. I was the only person giggling at this amongst an audience who were still taking this risible nonsense movie seriously after a good hour. I guess they were too busy admiring the endless shots of shiny floored corridors, period vehicles, and sculptured haircuts, to notice how truly wretchedly woeful this film was.