I’ve been ducking screenings of Stephen Frears‘ Florence Foster Jenkins (Paramount, 8.12) because, as I’ve muttered over and over, I don’t want to watch a film about a real-life rich socialite (played by Meryl Streep) who insisted on singing opera at a 1944 Carnegie Hall concert despite the fact that she couldn’t sing any better than you or me in the shower. (And perhaps worse — listen to this.)
But I’ve decided to man up and see it next Friday because of three reasons: (a) I’ve heard that Streep’s voice isn’t atrocious in the film. A friend who’s seen it says her singing-as-Jenkins “isn’t completely embarassing…she can’t sing but she almost gets there“; (b) Older audiences are lapping it up, and the afore-mentioned friend speculates that Streep “will probably be [Best Actress] nominated, which happens almost every time”; and (c) the theme of Florence Foster Jenkins is that the love of singing is what counts, and not whether you’re any good at it.
Alternate slogan: If singing makes you feel good, do it in front of others. Even if you murder every song you interpret.
I beg to differ with that. Most of us would, I think. If you can’t sing you should stick to the shower or your car — period.
What previous films have subjected audiences to singing that’s difficult to handle? Claire Trevor‘s pathetic a cappela scene in John Huston‘s Key Largo (’48). Gwen Welles‘ grotesque singing scene in Robert Altman‘s Nashville (’75). Elizabeth Olsen‘s country music singing in Marc Abraham‘s I Saw The Light (’15). Who else?