Terrifically performed, with enough humour and heart that you’ll ignore its flaws.
A superb ensemble and neat balance of humour and pathos sees The Help exceeds its apparent limitations as Movie of the Week material.
College graduate Eugenia ‘Skeeter’ Phelan (Emma Stone) is determined to break into journalism, despite the opposition of a cancer-stricken mother (Allison Janney) and airhead friends who’d rather play bridge than raise their own children. Appalled by the blithe prejudice of her peers towards their African-American maids, Skeeter conspires with veteran servant Aibileen (Viola Davis) to put the truth about the hired help of Mississippi’s middle classes into print.
Handsomely shot and with sumptuous production design by Mark Ricker, The Help certainly feels like a document of a brave blow for civil rights. The oppressive heat of the Deep South shimmers from the screen, with Stone’s locks credibly frizzed from the humidity – though putting her in glasses won’t convince viewers she’d struggle to find a boyfriend.
It’s touching and often hilarious – thanks to the splendid Octavia Spencer and Jessica Chastain – but The Help’s rigid conformity disappoints. Skeeter and Aibilene’s project is compelling enough to carry the film and needn’t have been ignored so often for a predictable subplot about Skeeter’s love-life.
And while there’s a hint of grit in nods to domestic violence and the real-life assassination of activist Medgar Evers, director Tate Taylor seems more concerned with fashioning a tidy, heart-warming tale than tackling the unthinking racism of Mississippi’s wealthy white population.
Where The Help excels, though, is in its performances. Stone’s career is rightly rocketing, Bryce Dallas Howard adds manic physicality to a one-dimensional villain, and Janney is always a joy.
But Taylor’s trump card is Davis, who is employed to stunning effect. She is magnificent, full of subtle nobility, conveying years of pain with a faltering nod.
It’s not that The Help is a mawkish film, it’s just that it’s never especially complex or provocative. But with enjoyable comedy and characters, and the devastating brilliance of Davis, it’s an elegant and engaging tearjerker.
The Walt Disney version of the civil rights movement.
You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll be bewitched by Viola Davis.
Terrifically performed, with enough humour and heart that you’ll ignore its flaws.
