Grace Of Monaco
Cert: PG / 103 mins / Dir. Oliver Dahan
Like one of those abstract perfume ads you get on TV around Christmas-time, but stretched out to 100 agonising minutes, and without the concerted effort of at least trying to sell you something at the end. Nicole Kidman does a fantastic job of neither looking nor sounding like Grace Kelly, and although I didn't know the woman personally, I'd also put a few quid on the princess of Monaco not regularly ghosting around her Mediterranean palace, rambling on with glassy eyes and an accent stuck on shop demonstration mode.
Oliver Dahan's Grace Of Monaco is a tale of commitment and regret, set against a backdrop of diplomacy and political intrigue, told by someone who can't seem to convey the first two and isn't particularly interested in the latter. The sets look convincing enough, but it's not always easy to appreciate them, what with some of the most baffling camerawork I've ever witnessed choosing instead to fill the entire frame with the top-half of Kidman's face for minutes on end. ("Look, that's acting that! You can see it in her eyes! Well, you can't really see anything except her eyes, but I'm sure it'll have the same effect.")
Mr Orange, Richard Nixon, Harry Potter's mum, Citizen Smith and Scrooge from out of Sony's Christmas adverts lead the supporting cast, all looking suitably embarrassed and no doubt wondering how much worse things can get in the editing suite. Oh, and Mace Tyrell seems to have based his Alfred Hitchcock impersonation on Hopkins' performance in the Hitchcock movie, rather than on say, Alfred Hitchcock. All the better for focusing the audience's attention on Ms Kidman, no doubt.
Directionless to the point of incoherence, Grace Of Monaco isn't even hammy enough to be enjoyed on an ironic level; it's just boring. I would suggest that someone from YRF Entertainment gets on the blower to Google as soon as possible, to make enquiries about exercising the film's right to be forgotten.
I wish I could forget it that easily.
Why are you asking me this?
What do you want from me?
I can't get over it, all the time you won't let it go.
Seriously considering electroconvulsive therapy in a bid to shift this.
No. No there isn't. Now drop it.
…I got nothin'.
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
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