Simply Perfect

At first rather annoying in its heavy emphasis on reenactments, this movie ultimately proves fascinating, simply because the complicated, highly dramatic tale it tells still almost defies belief.

Like the great film, it's made with a great deal of visible affection both in front of and behind the camera.

Actress is magnificent and exudes a hypnotic screen presence in this affecting drama.

I'm not sure why anyone would want to watch this extremely unpleasant British drama, but so be it. British actress Helena B.C., who often takes on offbeat roles, plays a children's author named Enid Blyton. Blyton suffers from bipolar disorder, likely brought on by a miserable childhood in which her mother drove away her father. Blyton initially plans to be a teacher but finds she has a knack for writing about her favorite childhood fantasies, which clearly were meant to transport her out of her sad childhood. She marries her publisher, whom she eventually drives away, repeating the sins of her mother, and marries a much older man, clearly a father figure. For a children's author, she isn't much on children In fact, she can't stand her own children and eventually drives them away as well. When she finds herself preggers by her second husband, she finds a way to get rid of that child as well. Eventually, she lapses into full blown dementia and is reported to have died in the late 1960s. I thought at first she was a fictional character, but apparently there was a real Enid Blyton, who apparently was all the rage in Britain at one time. She apparently never caught on in the U.S. like her contemporaries, Enid Bagnold and Beatrix Potter. It may be that her writing was not up to theirs or that it didn't translate well with the American audience. As a writer with three daughters, I have spent countless hour in libraries and bookstores and never once come across her name. By the way, the real Enid Blyton was horse-faced, which makes me wonder why the filmmakers chose the somewhat attractive B.C. to play her. Nicely photographed and produced, but horribly unpleasant. Unless you like them that way, stay away. B.C. is of course marvelous as the mentally disturbed Blyton. She literally sinks her teeth into the role.

I enjoyed this film and thought all the performances were excellent. As I watched it, however, I couldn't help but think that no real person is as unremittingly awful as the Enid portrayed here. The film also implied that Enid's life was one of complete lack of fulfilment and success. Erm, this was one of the most loved and successful writers ever? I could imagine a totally different film where Enid's driven approach to writing and her 'neglect' of personal relationships would have been put down to her artistic genius. As it was, despite her huge success, the Enid here was basically portrayed as a failure and a bad person because she wasn't a chocolate-box mother, she had one affair and had one unhappy marriage. The film seems to be saying that despite her success she ultimately was a failure because she didn't pass the test as a wife and mother.For this reason, I actually thought the film was a bit sexist, although perhaps reflecting sexist attitudes of the time. A good watch in itself, but didn't make me feel I'd got to know Enid Blyton.

I have never seen a biopic with so little sympathy for its subject. Even Hitler usually gets better treatment. Although Helena Bonham Carter delivers yet another great performance, Enid Blyton remains a very one dimensional character not to say that she is portrayed as cold and downright evil. Blyton's writing (more than 750 books) is shown as compulsive escapism from her own adulthood to an idealized childhood because her own childhood ended for her when her father left the family. Blyton seems to love children as a concept but has no emotional bond with her own daughters. As to why she treats her first husband so badly never becomes really clear, apparently it has to do with the fact that to some extent he was a father figure for her who ultimately had to disappoint her as a self fulfilling prophecy. That leaves the question open as to why her second marriage seems to work. There are occasions in that film where the viewer is just appalled by the evil of Blyton's interaction with people she loves but no one can really be evil and cold all the time. So this portray unfortunately misses the richness of any person's character and is more or less the trial of Enid Blyton. We have to bear in mind that this is fiction and not fact. If you research what her daughters say about their childhoods you find very differing accounts and the evil she shows in face to face conversation (e.g. with her driver) does not have any witnesses. My other misgiving about the film is that it is simply too short to allow character development or even orientation so that I got the impression that her children stayed forever in their teens and she was suddenly 47. All in all historic context was missing completely.

This is a remarkable achievement in television film-making for the BBC. Helena Bonham Carter delivers yet another stunningly brilliant performance, which quite takes one's breath away. She truly 'becomes' the children's' writer Enid Blyton to a degree which even has one worried, as can she really turn back into Helena Bonham Carter again, after all that? As an actress generally, she just gets better and better (see my previous reviews of her films of recent years), and soon she may explode and become a kind of super-nova perhaps, scattering the screen with particles of light and stray atoms, building blocks of a future galaxy. (In any case, she is a star, whether she explodes or not. And she can certainly be seen at a distance of several light-years, even in her present state, without causing undue alarm to all those extraterrestrial observers who must be peering at her through their telescopes.) The director, James Hawes, who comes of the unlikely pedigree of some Dr. Who episodes and does not have a heavy-weight drama CV, turns out to be a serious quality drama director of immense skill and sensitivity. So well done Hawes, and may you let 'er rip as often as possible in that vein, which is clearly your true metier, as we can all now see. Wonderful performances are delivered by Matthew Macfadyen as Blyton's first husband and Denis Lawson as her second. It cannot be stressed strongly enough how easy it would have been for this biopic to go disastrously wrong. Everything depended on subtlety and impeccable judgement, all of which the director, the two writers, and the actors uniformly delivered to absolute perfection. Even the children in the film were superb, lacking all the annoying qualities of so many children in films and television these days. This film really does deserve several awards. It is so much better, for instance, than the over-rated feature films about Iris Murdoch which came out a few years ago, as well as the over-hyped '84 Charing Cross Road' of many years before, and several other similar attempts at films about authors. This film is simply sensational in its high level of achievement. As for the subject matter, it could not be more horrifying, but accurate, a portrayal of a famous children's' writer. Enid Blyton was an absolute monster of a human being, a hypocrite of cosmic proportions, and totally vile and disgusting as a person. (How could either of her husbands stand her even for a day? The first one clearly could not, which is why he turned to drink and stood looking stupefied at her, as if he were staring at an anaconda, which in fact he was, albeit one with a woman's face.) It is difficult to think of anyone other than Helena Bonham Carter who could have pulled this off with such sensitivity and delicacy, as this was a highly specialised assignment, playing Enid Blyton, and not to be undertaken lightly, or by anyone hackneyed and overly 'actor-ish'. The whole film and all the performances exude a powerful honesty, authenticity, and balance which are so difficult to achieve with an ensemble of people ranging from director to writers to performers and cameraman. It just all works so well. But why, oh why, did this appear on the tiny minority channel of BBC-Four, as if the idiots and morons who run BBC were ashamed of something of such high quality? They of course prefer such loathsome persons as Russell Brand and the unspeakably disgusting (pardon me while I am sick) Jonathan Ross. A change of government in Britain cannot come quickly enough, so that the BBC can be brought to its senses, its executives who lack any semblance of ability or competence can stop being paid more than hedge fund managers for doing nothing of any worth, and some kind of appreciation of public service broadcasting can be brought back again whereby magnificent films like this one will be given their due prominence on a main channel at peak time viewing. It gives one hope that there is still anyone out there capable of making a decent television film in Britain at the present time, other than Stephen Poliakoff of course, when the Philistines are so rampant and are in control of every inch of the high ground, and with culture on the run, harried by unrestrained and in-your-face mediocrity, idiocy, lack of taste, and vacuity, which are the hallmarks of the BBC in this year 2009. Hawes, Bonham Carter, and co. have taken a stand. We should drown them in little statues to go on their mantelpieces, to testify to how we appreciate what they have done. If only!