Cast: Sophie Marceau, Stephen Dillane, Kevin Anderson, Lia Williams, Dominique Belcourt, Joss Ackland,
Annabel Giles
Director: William Nicholson
Producer: Brian Eastman
Screenplay: William Nicholson
Cinematography: Nic Morris
Music: Christopher Gunning
U.S. Distributor: Hollywood Pictures
There's nothing as disappointing as a potentially-interesting premise gone to waste, unless it's the case of a talented cast being misused. Both of these unfortunate occurrences plague Firelight, director William Nicholson's cold and underwritten tale of a woman who sells her first-born child, then seeks to find the girl seven years later. Firelight, which is set during the late 1830s and early 1840s, has the look and feel of Jane Eyre, but that's where the similarity ends. Whereas Charlotte Bronte was adept at character development, Nicholson (making his directorial debut after penning screenplays for the likes of Shadowlands and Nell) has difficulty getting his protagonists to display more than two dimensions.
As the film opens, Elisabeth (Sophie Marceau) has answered an advertisement for a healthy, young woman who is willing to bear the son of an English gentleman. The terms of the agreement are that the woman will spend three nights with the man, then, when the child is born nine months later, she will give it up and make no further claim upon it. For this, she will receive 500 pounds. (Isn't it nice to know that modern medical science has eliminated the need for such contracts?) The gentleman, Charles Godwin (Stephen Dillane), is well-placed in society, and, as a result, his identity must be kept a secret. All dealings with him (except the intimate ones) will be handled through intermediaries.
At first, the interaction between Elisabeth and Charles is all business, but, during the course of their tryst, they fall in love. Of course, neither confides this rather important detail to the other, but the director makes the truth plain to the audience through a series of unsubtle sequences featuring the couple in bed (on the first night, the sex is mechanical; on the second night, it's not so mechanical; on the third and final night, it's accomplished with passion and tenderness). 40 weeks later, Elisabeth gives birth to a baby girl, Louisa, who is quickly taken from her. However, she never forgets the cry of her daughter, and, after spending seven years searching, she finally locates Charles, and successfully applies for a position as Louisa's governess.
Despite the warm title, Firelight is a chilly motion picture. Everything is gray and dreary, from the inside of Charles' house to the bleak grounds. This cold seems to penetrate into the bones of the characters, who rarely display any emotion (and, on those occasions when they do, it's frequently not credible). The acting is stiff and unyielding. Sophie Marceau, the regal French beauty from Braveheart, tries to keep her body language and facial expression unreadable while projecting emotion through her eyes, but the camera often doesn't capture the subtlety of her performance. Consequently, Elisabeth comes across as aloof and wooden. Stephen Dillane, who was solid as the lead newsman in Welcome to Sarajevo, appears lost amidst the historical trappings. His groping portrayal of Charles is bland and unconvincing, and there's not even a fitful spark between him and Marceau. Only Dominique Belcourt, who plays the spoiled and temperamental Louisa, shows signs of life.
Firelight suffers from an underwritten script. Expository scenes are missing (when the assessors arrive to determine the value of Charles' property, it's the first time we're aware that he's in financial distress). Dialogue is sparse. Emotions are telegraphed rather than gradually developed (as in the early scenes where Elisabeth and Charles conceive Louisa). The symbolism of the firelight is heavy-handed and overused. And one character makes a critical leap of intuition that is nothing short of ludicrous, and its inclusion undermines the film's conclusion. In general, it seems that Firelight could have benefited from at least one additional rewrite.
For a motion picture with the potential to be an emotionally-moving look at social repression in Victorian England, Firelight instead has all of the depth of a Harlequin romance. Actually, it's not even that good, because the characters here are so distant that it's difficult to sympathize with them or become invested in the tangled web of their relationships. Thematically, Firelight may be about a lonely man, woman, and child being united and reborn through love, but the production used to present this story is stillborn.
© 1998 James Berardinelli