Best
picture nominee #6 is, like The Imitation
Game, a period biopic about a British genius who finds himself existing
outside of conventional society. In Alan
Turing’s case, he was a code-breaking mathematician persecuted for his
sexuality by the country he helped save.
This film, however, is about Stephen Hawking, a paradigm-shifting
physicist diagnosed at a young age with a debilitating disease. Overall, I’d say The Theory of Everything is a better-made film than The Imitation Game, although if we’re
talking Stephen Hawking biopics, I prefer Hawking.
Perhaps
because it’s largely based on Jane Hawking’s memoir about her marriage to
Stephen, this film is less concerned about math, science, and the universe than
it is about love and how disability can challenge it. While Stephen remains the headliner, Jane’s
story, that of a young woman who decides to throw her lot in with the man she
loves for whatever time he has, gets a significant amount of focus as
well. We see their shy early flirtations,
his fear and her devotion in the wake of his diagnosis, their hopeful marriage,
and their life together, the length of which defies all medical
expectation. We see her increasing
struggle to be his sole caregiver, his devastating frustration with his
declining mobility, and the care providers and nurses who gradually slip into
the cracks spreading through their marriage.
It’s
undoubtedly a lovely film, wonderfully shot and well-realized – the script
moves thoughtfully through the events of the Hawkings’ lives, and the final
sequence is especially well-done. Yet,
the reason I’d choose the cheaper, less-polished Hawking over it is because Hawking
is about a physicist with a disability while The Theory of Everything is about a disabled man who does
physics. Obviously, being told in your
20s that you only have two years to live is a crushing blow, and you won’t
always appreciate living decades beyond that prediction when you lose control
of your motor functions, can’t feed, clothe, or clean yourself, and are no
longer able to use your voice. Everyone
knows that’s a horrifically unfair hand to be dealt, and I don’t want to
diminish the monumental challenges Hawking has faced. However, the movie tends to wallow in the
misery and struggle, and the achievements and bright spots are never allowed
too much time at the fore. A lot of this
is down to Eddie Redmayne’s performance as Stephen. I can’t deny that it’s pretty transformative
and will likely win him the Oscar, and I know that, because the film cover so
much progression of his illness, this is one instance where hiring a disabled
actor would have been difficult, but it’s still the sort of role that it’s hard
to see an able-bodied actor play. There
are times when it just feels too much like cripface.
I
should mention that Felicity Jones (best known to me as Catherine in Northanger Abbey) plays Jane, a woman
worn down by circumstance, with quiet strength.
The film also features David Thewlis (Professor Lupin!) and Emily
Watson, and I particularly want to highlight Harry Lloyd (Son of Mine or
Viserys Targaryen, depending on your fandom) as Stephen’s university chum
Brian. The scene where Stephen confides
his diagnosis to Brian is probably my favorite scene in the film – Brian’s
reaction is so startlingly genuine and heartfelt.
Warnings
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