Jane Campion's biopic of Fanny Brawn, Keats' lover (he obviously features hugely) is a traditionally plotted, but particularly well handled period romance. The language and setting don't get in the way of a fine romance that tightens, constricts the throats of the viewer, the throat heaves as the action must curtail to its inevitable end.
Wishart is suitably wan as Keats, Cornish plays a nicely down to earth Fanny Brawn. It avoids over modernisation, not casting an ironic eye on the mores but simply accepting them as constituent of the films reality. All of this doesn't make it much of a metaphysical experience; it's tied to the story, which is in many ways a largely traditional one in so far as cinematic romances go. Thus, we are forced, in a bizarre way, to follow the sorry to the slightly over wrought end.
However, as said this is a more than solid, occasionally beautiful picture in its evocation of the fields of Hampstead. Not ground breaking, but a fine, chest tighteningly clutching example of its craft.
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