The Beguiled is as surprising and thought-provoking a film as an exquisitely pruned rose bush flourishing atop a bitter iceberg. It’s elegant. It’s melodramatic. It’s icy, blunt, and deeply silent. But with that, it’s also strangely welcoming.
Nicole Kidman subtly crushes her role as the eyebrow-raising, oft-perspiring proprietor and headmistress Ms. Martha Farnsworth. Farnsworth immediately lets McBurney know that he is a most unwelcome guest but that, due to her genteel nature as a properly raised, gracious Southern woman of Christ, she will nurse him back to health – and promptly hand him over as a prisoner to the next group of soldiers that pass by. When she curtly tells McBurney that they do not propose to entertain him during his stay, his reply is a flirtatious “You’ll find I’m easily amused.”
And amused he is. By the ever-moody Edwina Dabney, played by one of Coppola’s frequent muses, Kirsten Dunst. Dunst is also captivating (though not terribly exciting, as we’ve seen her play such similar roles before) in her portrayal of a sullen, bored Southern belle who finds herself having impure thoughts, particularly once McBurney arrives. Her competition, however, lies within the shadows of the ladies’ home. Her lovelorn fellow companions, of a variety of ages, all soon become infatuated with the presence of McBurney – even while he’s essentially hidden away in a locked room.
Kirsten Dunst and Colin Farrell in “The Beguiled.”
Upon the handsome soldier’s arrival, the lace and ruffles; special-occasion hairpins and brooches; and wickedly bare shoulders all come out to play. Alicia, played by Elle Fanning in one of her most satisfying roles yet, is sinfully come-hither once her initial apathy is stirred up and she lets her boldness loose. You can’t help but notice her. And neither can McBurney.
Tensions continue to bubble up and boil as the summer heat drags on. McBurney, soon well enough to hobble around on a crutch, attempts to negotiate a longer stay as both hired help and protection. He begins to tend to the overgrown weeds and shrubs in the boarding school yard. This tending to the disorderly garden – separating the worn and wild old branches from the lush, new growth – is the perfect analogy for the way his visit has affected the ladies’ emotional and physical state. Desire runs rampant at the Farnsworth Seminary until the steam pot eventually whistles and bursts, with a most violent climax. From there, the tables turn – and Farrell goes from simply a handsome, charming actor, to a gut-wrenchingly believable psychopath. “The enemy as an individual is not what we believe,” states Ms. Farnsworth, in one of the coldest lines delivered in the film.
The Beguiled is an impossibly pretty masterpiece that quickly waltzes by. The juxtaposition artfully crafted by Coppola offers the perfect mix of candlelit lust, crude revenge, sly humor, and a delicate demureness. Most scenes are so thick with silence, albeit the incessant hum of crickets and the occasional croak of a toad in the background kind of silence, that it’s impossible not to hang on every word. And because the film is so succinct in its 93 minutes, every element of the sparse language is key to the experience. To get the most out of this movie, though, don’t allow yourself to simply wait for the next action. Pay keen attention to the breathy whispers in the back of the room; the hip-touches and the sideways glances; and the dust-speckled highlights and creaky shadows. Everything has a story to tell.
Mandi Ruffner