Movie Review: Ralph Fiennes shines in ‘The Choral,’ a heartfelt WWI drama about the power of music
The best parts of the “Ocean’s Eleven” movies aren’t the big heists. They’re when the crew, that motley assortment of raw talent, is being put together. And that’s perhaps the best bit in “The Choral,” if you substitute George Clooney with Ralph Fiennes and Las Vegas with northern England. And the ultimate goal is music, instead of oodles of cash. Stay with us here.
“The Choral” is a very gentle, very British movie about the importance of art, set against World War I, that’s powerful in a decidedly non-flashy way. It’s so genteel that when one young patron of the town’s very nice sex worker is done with his business, they shake hands.
“The Choral” marks the fourth fruitful collaboration between director Nicholas Hytner and writer Alan Bennett, who previously combined for “The Madness of King George,” “The History Boys” and “The Lady in the Van.” This time, they return to Yorkshire.
With Britain in its second year of horrific, grinding warfare on the continent, the trains in the mill town of Ramsden leave with soldiers who volunteer to fight and return with casualties, men missing eyes, legs and arms.
When the town’s Choral Society choirmaster signs up to battle the Germans, he’s replaced by Fiennes’ Dr. Henry Guthrie, who is brilliant but a dangerous choice. He spent years in Germany, for a start, enthralled by its love of the arts, plus he’s an atheist and is gay. “Let’s just say I’d prefer a family man,” grouses one local. Just being Catholic is suspicious around here.
The choral performance that had been chosen — Johann Sebastian Bach’s “The St. Matthew Passion” — is soon axed because Bach is German. Same with Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Brahms and Handel. Fiennes’ Guthrie suggests Edward Elgar’s “The Dream of Gerontius.” At least he’s British.
That’s when you get the “Ocean’s Eleven”-style getting-the-gang-together montage. Guthrie needs a huge choir and, with so many candidates off fighting, he’s got to look in unlikely places. We see him go to pubs and hospitals and bakeries, looking for anyone who can sing. Won’t that allow the riff-raff in? “Do you want a choir or do you want a Sunday School?” he replies.
Fiennes is wonderful here, demanding of his amateur choir levels of excellence that’s astronomical for a northern mill town. He’s devoted to music but also to a German love partner in danger. Fiennes conveys that all in a glance or a sharp word, one of the most economical actors working.
The film opens its aperture to the young people in the choir — with standout performances by Jacob Dudman, Amara Okereke and a fun cameo by Simon Russell Beale — and Bennett’s ability to be both sacred and profane shine.
A national draft is coming and the 18-year-old would-be soldiers feel like their futures are being taken away. They want to drink Champagne, ride in motorcars and see the sea before they die. “I want to live,” says one.
They’re also very horny and want to lose their virginities before they go to the front. Romantic rivalries flourish, but, again, this is very British. “Cheerio, then,” says one heartbroken choir member who has returned from war maimed and is now being dumped by his longtime love.
The performance is put in jeopardy by the composer of “The Dream of Gerontius” when he stops by to find out what this choral society is doing to his work, which is extensive. It’s being completely reimagined. “Art comes out of art,” he is told. Will he be persuaded?
Small-town Britain has been the setting of several music-filled, let’s-put-on-a-show movies — like “Brassed Off” and “The Full Monty” — and “The Choral” belongs in that good company, although it will leave a slightly sad note as the trains by the end are going to France with some fine singing soldiers aboard. Many will not return.
“The Choral,” a Sony Pictures Classics release that is in theaters Christmas Day, is rated R by the Motion Picture Association for some language and sexual content. Running time: 108 minutes. Three stars out of four.