Suffragette

Suffragette (12A)

UK/USA 2015 106 mins Dir: Sarah Gavron Cast: Carey Mulligan, Helena Bonham Carter, Meryl Streep, Anne-Marie Duff, Brendan Gleeson, Ben Whishaw

All the signs are in place for Suffragette to be an insufferable slab of Oscar bait. It takes as its basis a watershed moment in British political history (never a bad thing in attracting the Academy’s attention), it’s written by The Iron Lady’s Abi Morgan and features the cream of the acting crop in the form of Carey Mulligan and Meryl Streep.

It’s therefore a joy to report that Suffragette is alive with the same sense of gritty determinism and vitality as the early 20th century feminist footsoldiers it depicts. There have been movies made about the Suffragette movement in the past, from Charlie Chaplin’s early 1914 effort A Busy Day to recent Hilary Swank TV movie Iron Jawed Angels, casting its eye over the American suffrage movement. However, this is one of the few occasions that a dramatic feature film has taken as its basis the struggle for women’s rights in Britain.

A dynamic central performance from the exceptional Carey Mulligan is vital to anchoring our sympathies. She plays turn-of-the-20th-century London laundry worker Maud Watts, a young woman (and fictional composite character) who has laboured much of her life under such brutal conditions, as did her mother. After witnessing an organised attack with stones on a West End shop front, Maud finds herself inexorably drawn into the Suffragette fold courtesy of co-worker Violet (Anne-Marie Duff) and educated chemist Edith (Helena Bonham Carter). Inspired by a speech given by leader Emmeline Pankhurst (Meryl Streep),

With the stirrings of a social conscience beginning to flicker into life, Maud soon finds herself in conflict with her traditional husband Sonny (Ben Whishaw) and, eventually, the forces of Inspector Steed (Brendan Gleeson), who is looking to crack down on the Suffragette gatherings at the behest of politician Benedict Haughton (Samuel West). Meanwhile, Haughton’s own wife, Alice (Romola Garai) is herself battling for women’s rights – in one of the script’s more intriguing touches she gives voice to another side of the battle, coming at it from a relatively privileged position.

Admirably, Brick Lane director Sarah Gavron refuses to flinch away from the violent turbulence that marked the early days of the movement, whether it’s a mass brawl outside Parliament in the presence of Prime Minister David Lloyd George (Adrian Schiller) or the barbaric force-feeding conditions inflicted inside the city’s prisons. This pleasingly visceral approach feeds into cinematographer Eduard Grau’s boldly muted colour palate: this is no tourist-eye view of London but a convincingly grimy depiction of a society on the cusp of change, the camera bobbing and weaving in a way that will give Downton Abbey fans motion sickness. Underpinned by Alexandre Desplat’s sombre score that only gives way to happiness in its final moments, there’s no denying the film is physically impressive.

What makes it work however is the skill and nuance of the actors working in tandem with Morgan’s impressive script. There’s none of the glib box-ticking to be found in the writer’s Iron Lady screenplay. Here we get a genuine sense of the domestic sacrifice experienced by the Suffragette women in pursuit of their cause, Mulligan’s acutely compassionate performance ringing especially true in one heart-rending scene of domestic discord between her, Whishaw and young Adam Michael Dodd as on-screen son George; it’s a profoundly moving sequence featuring some of the year’s finest acting.

Morgan also touches upon the schisms that opened up between the women themselves, dedicated Edith’s commitment to the militant nature of the movement threatening members of the public and risking more collateral damage. It’s this that provides the basis of one of the movie’s most pertinent conversations between Steed and Maud. “Violence doesn’t discern,” he remarks of the group’s letterbox bombings. “I’m not interested in the law, I had no say in creating it,” she retaliates. This is a vision of history with the edges still angular, and the capacity for right and wrong on both sides.

Undeniably, there is glibness and crassness in some of the movie’s incidental characterisations and dialogue. Geoff Bell’s leery laundry boss for instance belongs in a rickety, end-of-pier-pantomime; and there’s eye-rolling mouthpiece exposition of the ‘You are my wife’ sort. Meanwhile, Streep’s glorified two-minute cameo as Pankhurst feels like the filmmakers showing off to garner cynical Oscar votes and there’s an occasional air of this being history for dummies; at one point, Maud and soon-to-be-remembered Emily Wilding Davison (Natalie Press), wondering where to strike next, open a newspaper and come across a report on the King’s Derby, a clunky set-up for the moment that eventually turned the tide for the Suffragettes.

Nevertheless, these are relatively minor faults in an important film brimming with vitality and nuance, one featuring outstanding performances across the board.