The Goldfinch focuses on Theo Decker - played by Oakes Fegley as a child and Ansel Elgort as an adult - an antique seller whose mother died in an explosion when he was a boy. With nowhere to go, he’s taken in by one of his friends, whose mother Samantha, played by Nicole Kidman, seriously considers adopting him. Though when his alcoholic father, played by Luke Wilson, arrives and takes Theo back with him to Vegas, Theo soon finds himself on a journey spanning eight years and three different cities as he tries to find some solace in the world.
The actual Goldfinch painting - for which both this film and the novel it’s based on were named after - rarely actually plays a part in this movie, and feels like sort of a red herring. The painting holds little significance to driving much of the story forward. While it is mentioned a fair amount of times, it’s still only sporadically and in various subplots that never really amount up to anything either interesting or emotionally satisfying.
Theo steals the painting shortly after the bombing that killed his mother. It’s never revealed why he made that decision or why he decides to hold on close to it for so long. So it gets very frustrating when there are so many scenes dedicated to him getting into heated arguments with others over possession of the painting. There never feels like there’s any sort of emotional attachment to this object that’s continuously mentioned, so it’s hard to care when talented actors such as Denis O’Hare or Jeffrey Wright go on so passionately about it.
That winds up being this movie’s biggest problem in general. There’s rarely a moment where one can actually care about any of these characters, mainly because they feel so stunted and underdeveloped. Only a very limited amount of information is given about any of them, so it’s almost impossible to connect with them, and their dialogue never really stands out as engaging.
And it’s a shame because in some instances, the actors portraying them are certainly doing a fine job. Nicole Kidman gives one of the finer performances, being tender and sweet as Theo’s only other mother figure. Luke Wilson does a solid job portraying one of the sleazier characters, even getting in one of the film’s only moments of true intensity, though his screen time is fairly limited. Finn Wolfhard is also a nice addition as a Ukranian immigrant who befriends Theo, and while his accent is outright horrible, he provides some of the only moments of humor here.
This plays into another of this film’s big issues. The subject matter is undoubtedly somber, with most of the characters constantly facing some sort of struggle. Despite that, there’s a difference between telling a sad, yet emotionally engaging, story and being outright joyless. And this film falls into the latter category. There is no real personality to most of these characters. They are each assigned one emotion that they maintain through their entire time on screen.
If a character is introduced appearing sad, that’s how they are every time they’re on screen. If they’re angry, they keep that same tone for almost the entire movie. And if it wasn’t clear how sad these characters are meant to be, they say it multiple times. There are plenty of scenes of characters just sitting around and telling each other how they feel. But rarely is the pain these characters claim they feel ever really felt by the audience. There’s nothing really experienced.
And this lack of emotion is most especially apparent with the film’s protagonist. There’s honestly nothing all that intriguing about Theo. He’s defined by his tragedies and he’s otherwise so emotionally detached from everything else around him. There are those who he seems to care about, but there’s never any chemistry between the two, so their interactions don’t feel genuine. While the book has the advantage of being able to describe all of his inner monologues and observations, the film doesn’t have that privilege and fails to work its way around that to make him interesting in another way. He’s just sad, and he spends most of the movie letting others know this.
The film is a major offender of the “show, don’t tell” rule when it comes to film and it drags it out to the utmost degree. This film is nearly two and a half hours long, and that runtime is painfully felt in nearly every moment. There are exchanges that drag on for far too long, and scenes that feel never-ending as characters sit around and mope or argue for minutes on end. Had the film been given more time to explore who these characters are and what really makes them tick, the long runtime would have been welcome, but because everyone is so emotionally stunted and uninteresting, the film never really picks up any steam.
The Goldfinch is a total mess. It’s a completely joyless experience that never really feels like it has the right to be as emotionally detached as it is. The actors certainly give it their all, but the film confuses characters saying how they feel for actual emotion and character development, so they’re left with little to no personality, and in turn leaves the audience with nothing to care about. The film feels scattered, introducing many plot points and side stories that needed more time to develop, but unfortunately never pick up steam, leaving the audience with a dull, lifeless shell of something that could have been much greater.
Recommendation: Kill it With Fire
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