Latest news with #FourLettersofLove
NZ Herald
a day ago
- Entertainment
- NZ Herald
Insufficient postage: Irish romance Four Letters of Love fails to deliver
Ma and Da: Helena Bonham Carter and Gabriel Byrne in Four Letters of Love. Photo / Supplied
West Australian
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- West Australian
WIN a double pass to see Four Letters of Love
SUBSCRIBER EXCLUSIVE West Rewards is offering you the chance to win a double pass to see Four Letters of Love , a stunning film adaptation of Niall Williams' best-selling novel, starring Helena Bonham Carter, Pierce Brosnan, and Gabriel Byrne. Set against the breathtaking Irish countryside, this drama explores the deep bonds of family, faith, and the enduring power of love. At its heart is the story of Nicholas and Isabel—two people destined for each other yet separated by life's unexpected turns. Currently in cinemas. Watch the trailer here . For your chance to win, enter your details below. Entries close on Sunday 3 Aug at 11:59 pm. All entrants may only enter once. All entrants found to have entered more than once per entry form will have their subsequent entries disqualified. T&Cs apply .
The Advertiser
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Advertiser
This Irish romantic drama takes its sweet time, to be sure
Truman Capote wrote, "More tears are shed over answered prayers than unanswered ones." In this film, God seems to be playing with that idea, toying with people's hopes and dreams and lives, giving them inspiration that leads to suffering, and granting at least some wishes but with a twist or a capricious sense of timing. Or maybe it's all down to some other kind of supernatural goings-on, or to fate. Or, if you're not into such metaphysical speculations, maybe things like coincidence just happen. This Irish romantic drama takes its sweet time to unfold and then crams a lot towards the end in a rush that hinders, rather than enhances, its impact. We have to wait a long time before the young lovers even meet, and even longer to discover what the title means. Niall Williams adapted his own novel: it's his first movie script, and the task might have been better entrusted to a screenwriter with more experience and objectivity. Four Letters of Love is also full of cliches from the Emerald Isle and from movies set there. Dancing merry jigs to jolly songs? Tick. A stern Mother Superior at a drab Catholic girls' boarding school? Tick. Impractical husbands and longsuffering wives? A score featuring wordless, ethereal female vocals? To be sure, to be sure. There are no banshees, but there do appear to be ghosts. There's also some spectacular scenery, gorgeously shot by Damien Elliott. The story begins in the 1970s. One day at the office, civil servant William Coughlin (Pierce Brosnan) has an epiphany and chucks in his job to become a painter. He abruptly leaves his wife Bette (Imelda May) and son Nicholas (Fionn O'Shea) to head west, leaving them bewildered and poor: Bette never recovers from the shock, and William comes and goes as he pleases. Meanwhile, on the island where William goes to paint, Isabel (Ann Skelly) is helping to care for her brother Sean (Donal Finn), who's wheelchair-bound and mute after a stroke. Isabel's parents - schoolteacher Muiris (Gabriel Byrne) and mother Margaret (Helena Bonham Carter) - send her off to a boarding school but she runs away and takes up with Peadar (Ferdia Walsh-Peelo), a musician with a car. He's an underdeveloped character, essentially a plot contrivance to complicate things between Nicholas and Isabel, but he's not a cardboard cad. Williams and experienced director Polly Steele (Let Me Go) do a fair job of juggling the moves between time and place but sometimes important elements - like a painting by William that plays a crucial role - aren't dealt with as clearly or skilfully as they should be. As mentioned, it takes a long time for Nicholas and Isabel to meet, after a near miss or two, and their falling in love feels rather too rushed and underplayed. Not that the full gushing Hollywood treatment was needed but the handling seems clumsy. The way Nicholas is kept around for story purposes isn't entirely convincing either. There's an air of muted fatalism about things: people don't seem to get too passionate or upset. The film benefits from a fine cast. O'Shea was very likeable in the heartwarming boarding-school drama Handsome Devil (in which he starred with Nicholas Galitzine) and, playing a fairly subdued character here, is a sympathetic hero throughout. Skelly is also very good: you hope things will end well for them. Brosnan seems slightly odd casting as a scruffy bohemian but he and the other veterans are good to have around. Romantic dramas can end happily or tragically, hopefully or bittersweetly: without spoiling the film, the ending doesn't seem entirely clear, which is a little frustrating. But the painting, when finally viewed, does have some impact. It, like the film, could have had more. Truman Capote wrote, "More tears are shed over answered prayers than unanswered ones." In this film, God seems to be playing with that idea, toying with people's hopes and dreams and lives, giving them inspiration that leads to suffering, and granting at least some wishes but with a twist or a capricious sense of timing. Or maybe it's all down to some other kind of supernatural goings-on, or to fate. Or, if you're not into such metaphysical speculations, maybe things like coincidence just happen. This Irish romantic drama takes its sweet time to unfold and then crams a lot towards the end in a rush that hinders, rather than enhances, its impact. We have to wait a long time before the young lovers even meet, and even longer to discover what the title means. Niall Williams adapted his own novel: it's his first movie script, and the task might have been better entrusted to a screenwriter with more experience and objectivity. Four Letters of Love is also full of cliches from the Emerald Isle and from movies set there. Dancing merry jigs to jolly songs? Tick. A stern Mother Superior at a drab Catholic girls' boarding school? Tick. Impractical husbands and longsuffering wives? A score featuring wordless, ethereal female vocals? To be sure, to be sure. There are no banshees, but there do appear to be ghosts. There's also some spectacular scenery, gorgeously shot by Damien Elliott. The story begins in the 1970s. One day at the office, civil servant William Coughlin (Pierce Brosnan) has an epiphany and chucks in his job to become a painter. He abruptly leaves his wife Bette (Imelda May) and son Nicholas (Fionn O'Shea) to head west, leaving them bewildered and poor: Bette never recovers from the shock, and William comes and goes as he pleases. Meanwhile, on the island where William goes to paint, Isabel (Ann Skelly) is helping to care for her brother Sean (Donal Finn), who's wheelchair-bound and mute after a stroke. Isabel's parents - schoolteacher Muiris (Gabriel Byrne) and mother Margaret (Helena Bonham Carter) - send her off to a boarding school but she runs away and takes up with Peadar (Ferdia Walsh-Peelo), a musician with a car. He's an underdeveloped character, essentially a plot contrivance to complicate things between Nicholas and Isabel, but he's not a cardboard cad. Williams and experienced director Polly Steele (Let Me Go) do a fair job of juggling the moves between time and place but sometimes important elements - like a painting by William that plays a crucial role - aren't dealt with as clearly or skilfully as they should be. As mentioned, it takes a long time for Nicholas and Isabel to meet, after a near miss or two, and their falling in love feels rather too rushed and underplayed. Not that the full gushing Hollywood treatment was needed but the handling seems clumsy. The way Nicholas is kept around for story purposes isn't entirely convincing either. There's an air of muted fatalism about things: people don't seem to get too passionate or upset. The film benefits from a fine cast. O'Shea was very likeable in the heartwarming boarding-school drama Handsome Devil (in which he starred with Nicholas Galitzine) and, playing a fairly subdued character here, is a sympathetic hero throughout. Skelly is also very good: you hope things will end well for them. Brosnan seems slightly odd casting as a scruffy bohemian but he and the other veterans are good to have around. Romantic dramas can end happily or tragically, hopefully or bittersweetly: without spoiling the film, the ending doesn't seem entirely clear, which is a little frustrating. But the painting, when finally viewed, does have some impact. It, like the film, could have had more. Truman Capote wrote, "More tears are shed over answered prayers than unanswered ones." In this film, God seems to be playing with that idea, toying with people's hopes and dreams and lives, giving them inspiration that leads to suffering, and granting at least some wishes but with a twist or a capricious sense of timing. Or maybe it's all down to some other kind of supernatural goings-on, or to fate. Or, if you're not into such metaphysical speculations, maybe things like coincidence just happen. This Irish romantic drama takes its sweet time to unfold and then crams a lot towards the end in a rush that hinders, rather than enhances, its impact. We have to wait a long time before the young lovers even meet, and even longer to discover what the title means. Niall Williams adapted his own novel: it's his first movie script, and the task might have been better entrusted to a screenwriter with more experience and objectivity. Four Letters of Love is also full of cliches from the Emerald Isle and from movies set there. Dancing merry jigs to jolly songs? Tick. A stern Mother Superior at a drab Catholic girls' boarding school? Tick. Impractical husbands and longsuffering wives? A score featuring wordless, ethereal female vocals? To be sure, to be sure. There are no banshees, but there do appear to be ghosts. There's also some spectacular scenery, gorgeously shot by Damien Elliott. The story begins in the 1970s. One day at the office, civil servant William Coughlin (Pierce Brosnan) has an epiphany and chucks in his job to become a painter. He abruptly leaves his wife Bette (Imelda May) and son Nicholas (Fionn O'Shea) to head west, leaving them bewildered and poor: Bette never recovers from the shock, and William comes and goes as he pleases. Meanwhile, on the island where William goes to paint, Isabel (Ann Skelly) is helping to care for her brother Sean (Donal Finn), who's wheelchair-bound and mute after a stroke. Isabel's parents - schoolteacher Muiris (Gabriel Byrne) and mother Margaret (Helena Bonham Carter) - send her off to a boarding school but she runs away and takes up with Peadar (Ferdia Walsh-Peelo), a musician with a car. He's an underdeveloped character, essentially a plot contrivance to complicate things between Nicholas and Isabel, but he's not a cardboard cad. Williams and experienced director Polly Steele (Let Me Go) do a fair job of juggling the moves between time and place but sometimes important elements - like a painting by William that plays a crucial role - aren't dealt with as clearly or skilfully as they should be. As mentioned, it takes a long time for Nicholas and Isabel to meet, after a near miss or two, and their falling in love feels rather too rushed and underplayed. Not that the full gushing Hollywood treatment was needed but the handling seems clumsy. The way Nicholas is kept around for story purposes isn't entirely convincing either. There's an air of muted fatalism about things: people don't seem to get too passionate or upset. The film benefits from a fine cast. O'Shea was very likeable in the heartwarming boarding-school drama Handsome Devil (in which he starred with Nicholas Galitzine) and, playing a fairly subdued character here, is a sympathetic hero throughout. Skelly is also very good: you hope things will end well for them. Brosnan seems slightly odd casting as a scruffy bohemian but he and the other veterans are good to have around. Romantic dramas can end happily or tragically, hopefully or bittersweetly: without spoiling the film, the ending doesn't seem entirely clear, which is a little frustrating. But the painting, when finally viewed, does have some impact. It, like the film, could have had more. Truman Capote wrote, "More tears are shed over answered prayers than unanswered ones." In this film, God seems to be playing with that idea, toying with people's hopes and dreams and lives, giving them inspiration that leads to suffering, and granting at least some wishes but with a twist or a capricious sense of timing. Or maybe it's all down to some other kind of supernatural goings-on, or to fate. Or, if you're not into such metaphysical speculations, maybe things like coincidence just happen. This Irish romantic drama takes its sweet time to unfold and then crams a lot towards the end in a rush that hinders, rather than enhances, its impact. We have to wait a long time before the young lovers even meet, and even longer to discover what the title means. Niall Williams adapted his own novel: it's his first movie script, and the task might have been better entrusted to a screenwriter with more experience and objectivity. Four Letters of Love is also full of cliches from the Emerald Isle and from movies set there. Dancing merry jigs to jolly songs? Tick. A stern Mother Superior at a drab Catholic girls' boarding school? Tick. Impractical husbands and longsuffering wives? A score featuring wordless, ethereal female vocals? To be sure, to be sure. There are no banshees, but there do appear to be ghosts. There's also some spectacular scenery, gorgeously shot by Damien Elliott. The story begins in the 1970s. One day at the office, civil servant William Coughlin (Pierce Brosnan) has an epiphany and chucks in his job to become a painter. He abruptly leaves his wife Bette (Imelda May) and son Nicholas (Fionn O'Shea) to head west, leaving them bewildered and poor: Bette never recovers from the shock, and William comes and goes as he pleases. Meanwhile, on the island where William goes to paint, Isabel (Ann Skelly) is helping to care for her brother Sean (Donal Finn), who's wheelchair-bound and mute after a stroke. Isabel's parents - schoolteacher Muiris (Gabriel Byrne) and mother Margaret (Helena Bonham Carter) - send her off to a boarding school but she runs away and takes up with Peadar (Ferdia Walsh-Peelo), a musician with a car. He's an underdeveloped character, essentially a plot contrivance to complicate things between Nicholas and Isabel, but he's not a cardboard cad. Williams and experienced director Polly Steele (Let Me Go) do a fair job of juggling the moves between time and place but sometimes important elements - like a painting by William that plays a crucial role - aren't dealt with as clearly or skilfully as they should be. As mentioned, it takes a long time for Nicholas and Isabel to meet, after a near miss or two, and their falling in love feels rather too rushed and underplayed. Not that the full gushing Hollywood treatment was needed but the handling seems clumsy. The way Nicholas is kept around for story purposes isn't entirely convincing either. There's an air of muted fatalism about things: people don't seem to get too passionate or upset. The film benefits from a fine cast. O'Shea was very likeable in the heartwarming boarding-school drama Handsome Devil (in which he starred with Nicholas Galitzine) and, playing a fairly subdued character here, is a sympathetic hero throughout. Skelly is also very good: you hope things will end well for them. Brosnan seems slightly odd casting as a scruffy bohemian but he and the other veterans are good to have around. Romantic dramas can end happily or tragically, hopefully or bittersweetly: without spoiling the film, the ending doesn't seem entirely clear, which is a little frustrating. But the painting, when finally viewed, does have some impact. It, like the film, could have had more.
Sydney Morning Herald
6 days ago
- Entertainment
- Sydney Morning Herald
Helena Bonham Carter and Pierce Brosnan can't save this clanger of a film
FOUR LETTERS OF LOVE ★★ (M) 109 minutes At the outset of Four Letters of Love, a man is touched by God. Toiling away in a dingy Dublin office, middle-aged civil servant William Coughlan (Pierce Brosnan) spies a square of sunlight on his desk and spontaneously decides to chuck it all in and become a painter. Before long, he's doing artist stuff like growing his hair shoulder-length and abandoning his family. Meanwhile, in the west of Ireland, we're introduced to Isabel Gore (Ann Skelly), a younger free spirit who says things like 'I want to go wild today' as she frolics on the edge of a cliff. With all that, we're still only a couple of minutes into this wildly over-the-top melodrama, directed by UK-based Polly Steele, whose previous credits include the unfortunately titled climbing documentary The Mountain Within Me, and scripted by the Irish writer Niall Williams, adapting his 1997 novel. Williams' field isn't out-and-out trash but a particular brand of frantic 'literary' overwriting, much of which gets channelled here into Fionn O'Shea's voiceover as William's son Nicholas, looking back at his early-1970s youth from decades on ('To these days I am to return again and again throughout my life, for in them is the immanence of love'). Isabel and Nicholas are soulmates, she with her frizzy red hair, he with his look of gormless yearning. But the film takes its time bringing them together, tantalising us by having them cross paths a couple of times without meeting. By halfway through, one of William's paintings has wound up in the possession of Isabel's parents, Margaret (Helena Bonham Carter) and Muiris (Gabriel Byrne). But even when Nicholas seeks it out, this isn't enough to put him in the same room as Isabel, who is meanwhile set on marrying Peader (Ferdia Walsh-Peelo), her designated Mr Wrong. In spirit, this is a very slightly elevated Hallmark movie – but there are worse things to be, and under the circumstances it's a point in Steele's favour that she isn't afraid of excess. Like Williams, she goes all out: wide-angle lenses, shafts of light illuminating otherwise drab interiors, sweeping shots of the craggy coastline with waves crashing onto rocks.
The Age
6 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Age
Helena Bonham Carter and Pierce Brosnan can't save this clanger of a film
FOUR LETTERS OF LOVE ★★ (M) 109 minutes At the outset of Four Letters of Love, a man is touched by God. Toiling away in a dingy Dublin office, middle-aged civil servant William Coughlan (Pierce Brosnan) spies a square of sunlight on his desk and spontaneously decides to chuck it all in and become a painter. Before long, he's doing artist stuff like growing his hair shoulder-length and abandoning his family. Meanwhile, in the west of Ireland, we're introduced to Isabel Gore (Ann Skelly), a younger free spirit who says things like 'I want to go wild today' as she frolics on the edge of a cliff. With all that, we're still only a couple of minutes into this wildly over-the-top melodrama, directed by UK-based Polly Steele, whose previous credits include the unfortunately titled climbing documentary The Mountain Within Me, and scripted by the Irish writer Niall Williams, adapting his 1997 novel. Williams' field isn't out-and-out trash but a particular brand of frantic 'literary' overwriting, much of which gets channelled here into Fionn O'Shea's voiceover as William's son Nicholas, looking back at his early-1970s youth from decades on ('To these days I am to return again and again throughout my life, for in them is the immanence of love'). Isabel and Nicholas are soulmates, she with her frizzy red hair, he with his look of gormless yearning. But the film takes its time bringing them together, tantalising us by having them cross paths a couple of times without meeting. By halfway through, one of William's paintings has wound up in the possession of Isabel's parents, Margaret (Helena Bonham Carter) and Muiris (Gabriel Byrne). But even when Nicholas seeks it out, this isn't enough to put him in the same room as Isabel, who is meanwhile set on marrying Peader (Ferdia Walsh-Peelo), her designated Mr Wrong. In spirit, this is a very slightly elevated Hallmark movie – but there are worse things to be, and under the circumstances it's a point in Steele's favour that she isn't afraid of excess. Like Williams, she goes all out: wide-angle lenses, shafts of light illuminating otherwise drab interiors, sweeping shots of the craggy coastline with waves crashing onto rocks.
