A Small, Honest Story
by Elizabeth Weitzman
On a rainy London day in 1912, Catherine Winslow (Rebecca Pidgeon) discovers her 14-year-old brother, Ronnie (Guy Edwards) standing outside, trembling. He is not cold, but scared: he's been expelled from the Naval College for stealing a five shilling postal note.
When Ronnie gathers the nerve to tell his father (Nigel Hawthorne), Arthur Winslow asks the boy a single time if he committed the crime. Ronnie swears his innocence, and from that moment on, Arthur makes it his life's work to clear his son's name. When the school refuses to grant another hearing, Arthur finds London's most prominent attorney, Sir Robert Morton (Jeremy Northam), and pushes the case all the way to the House of Lords. Soon the whole country becomes fascinated, and the resultant trial and attention begins taking its toll.
Eventually, Catherine's fiance breaks off their engagement, to marry a more suitable woman. Though she's a champion of the suffragette cause, Catherine knows how perilous her situation is; a single, 30-year-old woman isn't likely to have many suitors beckoning. Arthur's finances and health are dwindling alongside Catherine's prospects, and Ronnie is perfectly happy at his new school, but the family's patriarch refuses to give up. To some, it seems like mere bullheadedness, but Catherine understands, as does Sir Morton: justice must be done.
It's clear that Mamet (who adapted Terrence Rattigan's classic British play, based on a true story) is delighting in overturning our assumptions. English period dramas are nearly always of the Merchant-Ivory variety, with hushed emotions and lush production. Where in an early-century London home is there room for Mamet's cold cadence? If you listen close enough, you can hear it in the overlapping bursts of dialogue, but this film is genteel through and through, and far brighter, both visually and in tone, than we'd expect from him. Still, it's got a steel backbone, thanks to Catherine's intelligent dedication -- to both her family and her causes.
Unfortunately, Pidgeon, who is married to Mamet, doesn't seem willing to relinquish the heavier overtones of his style. Despite the character's heart, the actress is both cold and ever-knowing, perpetually in on a sleight of hand we're not privy to. The rest of the cast, however, is marvelous, imbuing each role with a sense of compelling vulnerability. (And Northam adds a nicely sneaky cold streak.) Mamet, too, uses a light touch to keep us intrigued. It's frustrating that he rarely leaves the house, preferring to tell, rather than show, most of the political events; despite the stagy sense of confinement, though, he keeps the suspense building quietly. We're never sure if Ronnie is guilty or innocent, if the whole case, and an entire family, is about to come tumbling down because of one scared child. It's a small story, but an honest one. Is that enough to succeed in a special-effects-saturated market? In Arthur's insistent words, "Let right be done."
