How do you make a film about your mum? Particularly if she was one of the greatest war photographers of the 20th century, a wild spirit – and not the greatest mother of all time.
That’s the problem with this film and its screenplay, based on Antony Penrose’s 1985 biography of his mother, Lee Miller (1907-77). How do you squeeze her astonishing chequered life, with complete honesty, into an hour and 57 minutes?
Miller is best known for her agonising pictures of Buchenwald and Dachau, and for being the subject of David Scherman’s masterly picture of her (and her dirty boots) in Hitler’s bath on the day the Führer killed himself (below). She was a model, an apprentice to Man Ray and a pioneer in artistic photography, rediscovering the effect of solarisation.
She was also an alcoholic, an all-round tricky customer and not much of a mother to Antony, her son by the surrealist collector and writer Sir Roland Penrose. Kate Winslet is marvellous as Miller.
Her American accent is spot-on. She captures her bolshie toughness, which allowed Miller to accompany the US Army into war zones no other women photographers reached. Over and over again, she took daring, technically perfect pictures beyond the limits of other photographers.
It’s extraordinary that she was taking these harrowing photographs for Vogue of all places. The film captures her horror when the British edition of Vogue then refused to publish the concentration- camp images – although American
Vogue did see the light and publish them in 1945.
The film is split into Miller in youth and in old, Martini-soaked age, confronting her shortcomings as a mother. The oldie make-up looks a bit fake but Winslet’s cigarette- roughened, geriatric voice is masterly. But ... but...
Somehow the film just doesn’t hang together. Despite all these plus points – and despite nailing all the historical details, which war films so often play fast and loose with, it doesn’t gel.
It’s not that Antony Penrose is too reverent towards his mother. Her horrible side is on full show. As is her wild side – Winslet whips her top off at the drop of a hat.
But – because of the need to shove so much of such a full life into the film – it becomes a worthy list of her greatest achievements: her time with Man Ray, particularly her 1937 photograph of his picnic with topless ladies; and her matchless photos of the Blitz, the siege of St Malo, the liberation of Paris and the heart-wrenching concentration-camp scenes (very sensitively handled).
You can see the joins between the photos – the long build-up before each iconic shot is taken. And the build-ups aren’t really very interesting, particularly since you know what’s coming. The moment she and Scherman step into Hitler’s flat, you know the bathtub will lurch into view pretty soon.
It means there’s no tension or jeopardy to pull you along. Even if you don’t know about Miller’s life, you know she’ll survive the war because the film keeps on jumping forward to her old age.
So you end up with an earnest, slightly boring film. For all her packed life, that hour and 57 minutes passes pretty slowly.
Miller’s photographs are peerless. They’re what you want to see, not filmed imitations of them.
So Kate Winslet gets the pose in Hitler’s bath just right, having shaken off the contaminated mud of the concentration camps on Hitler’s bathmat. All beautifully done – but not a patch on the real photo of Miller in the tub.
When Miller’s photos are shown over the closing credits, they leap out of the screen and utterly steal the show. A picture is worth a thousand words – and a two-hour film.
