Just weeks after Margueritte told the fictionalised version of the same story, here comes Florence Foster Jenkins. She was a New York socialite and music lover who had a passion for singing despite having no talent. Her friends and loved ones kept the truth from her to such an extent that in 1944 she organised a concert for herself at Carnegie Hall…
The barebones of the story is very similar to Margueritte but the focus is much more on Florence and her relationship with her husband, St Clair Bayfield (Hugh Grant) than on the peripheral figures. I think that decision by writer Nicholas Martin and director Stephen Frears is the right one as the marriage is a complicated one, but with real tenderness at the core. Meryl Streep as Florence is as reliably good as you would expect but it is Hugh Grant, an underrated actor giving a career best performance, who is truly at the heart of the film. Rebecca Ferguson makes the most of a smaller role as Bayfield’s mistress.
Frears, on a role after Philomena and The Program. directs in his usual unfussy style and the period detail in richly brought to life. For all that is good about this film, though, it has to be said it drags a bit at the crucial time of the big performance. It picks up after that, but the ending is a bit too mawkish for my taste.
Rating: 7 out of 10