The Goldfinch

THE GOLDFINCH - Warner Bros

Somewhere inside this feature directed by John Crowley, there is a majestic price of art waiting to spread its wings. The Goldfinch is an epic character study that spans multiple decades of the life of Theodore Decker, played by Ansel Egort. After Decker's mother is killed in a bombing, we see how this changes the trajectory of his life into spirals of pain and hope.

The Goldfinch, in terms of craft and filmmaking expertise, is in no doubt strong. The cinematography by Roger Deakins - as per the infamous cinematographers work - is outstanding; each sequence is choreographed in a stunning beauty with energetic colours and an undeniable vibrancy that expertly reflects mood. However, visuals are only one component to the overall package. With the running time at just under one hundred and fifty minutes, it's excessive element that unfortunately submerges this feature into the dreary dark depths of extravagant self-indulgence.

Based on the 2013 book of the same name by ‎author Donna Tartt, it is understandable the excessive nature of material comes down to trying to honour the nature of the book, but both art forms sadly do not run concurrently with how they equally devise structure. The film ultimately feels as if it is involving three separate and distinctive genre of films and running them simultaneously to the point where it overflows the system, especially the final act that turns into an awkward resemblance of a shoddy heist thriller that is so left-field it somewhat disassociates the whole picture.

The most frustrating factor is the film's inability to explore specific, overly social-relevant parameters of addiction, trauma and terrorism. All three themes are small, unimportant passages that director Crowley and screenwriter Peter Straughan fail to sufficiently and adequately explore. In a film that has the antagonising length that it does, not to remotely explore said themes is a travesty in its own right, specifically in the downward spiral that takes Theo that is ever so sparingly featured in the background.

The result is a woefully structured narrative that runs on and on with sequences that either feeling regurgitated or repeatedly provoke an emotional response from the audience; it's almost as if the film does not have any confidence in its performances, of which are quite strong. Egort is spectacular as adult Theodore Decker. His emotional range is exquisite and how he conveys the character's continuing morbid psychological spiral is quite compelling. His younger counterpart Oakes Fegley is equally as captivating as the young Theodore Decker; Fegley expertly evokes prepubescent trauma but also superbly lifts the lid when the character demands dramatic exploration.

The supporting cast leaves a lot to be desired. Finn Wolfhard and Aneurin Barnard as younger and older Boris Pavlikovsky, respectively, are an awkward character to bring to life, and he's one that does not overly serve the plot aside to add small moments of depth to Theodore's path, which is not necessarily as all-encompassing as it is presented. Nicole Kidman and Luke Wilson add small instances of interest and are prime for development but are ultimately failed to be explored, both are all far too conveniently brushed off without a stable and engaging end to their respective arcs.

The Goldfinch is far too long for its own good: an excessive running time that is filled with overly ridiculous moments and a bizarre third act so left field and vacant it feels like self-sabotage. Even the terrific central performances of Egort and Fegley along with Deakins spectacular photography can not inspire up a marvelous venture, and sadly what remains is a lifeless, gargantuan deposit of potential that is vastly wasted in an echo chamber of self-indulgence.

The Goldfinch was released in the U.K. September 27 and the U.S. September 13, 2019.