Book-Based 'Hours' Blends Past, Present

"The Hours"

"The Hours" is a rare film -- one that's based on a book that's based on a book.

In 1925, British author Virginia Woolf wrote the classic "Mrs. Dalloway," the tale of a London socialite reminiscing over the various facets of her life as she spends the day preparing for a dinner party.

Based on the novel by Michael Cunningham, "The Hours" follows three women as they retrace the steps of Woolf's heroine over the course of one day.

"The Hours" proves that Woolf's story is one for the ages.

In present-day New York, Clarissa Vaughan (Meryl Streep) prepares for a party honoring Richard (Ed Harris), a poet friend and ex-lover who's dying of AIDS.

In 1950s Los Angeles, the nearly catatonic housewife Laura Brown (Julianne Moore) tries to shake off her supposedly pregnancy-induced malaise to plan a birthday party for her clueless husband (John C. Reilly).

Tying the eras together are the experiences of Woolf herself (Nicole Kidman), whose mental instability has her sequestered in the suburbs of London while gearing herself up for a visit from her wealthy sister and trying to pen "Mrs. Dalloway."

The opening sequence establishes their commonalities as it beautifully intercuts between the three as they wake up on their respective days.

Director Stephen Daldry ("Billy Elliot") choreographs the parallels into a tremendous flow throughout the film and never infuses the conveniently coincidental events with any sense of contrivance.

The quietly compelling score by Philip Glass aids Daldry's pace by setting up a nice narrative rhythm.

This rhythm greatly helps the complex and involving story. David Hare has written an extremely intelligent screenplay that's not always easy to digest.

The correlations between each story and "Mrs. Dalloway" are defined in a powerful yet subtle way. It's not often that the themes of a film take some work to access, and it's refreshing that "The Hours" doesn't travel the overly obvious route of a typical Hollywood film.

The talented triumvirate of lead actresses -- Streep, Moore and Kidman -- all turn in wonderful performances, but the acting is great all around.

Toni Collette steals her one scene as Kitty, an L.A. neighbor with whom Moore's character gets a little too friendly, and Claire Danes brightens the screen with her energetic portrayal of Streep's daughter.

But it's Kidman whose performance deserves the most accolades. Much has been written about her prosthetic nose in this film, but in a way, the cover is beneficial. We might not be able to tune out our previous notions of the glamorous, high-strutting Satine without it.

Thus, it's unfortunate that the Woolf sections of the storyline are its weakest link. Late in the film, a shattering revelation ties the latter two storylines together, leaving the Woolf thread dangling.

And in its brilliance, "The Hours" presumes extensive knowledge of Woolf and her works on behalf of the audience. For those neophytes, the true significance of the film might ring hollow.

But it's a rare film where the brain power is almost too much for its own good. The themes of life and death resonate throughout the three divergent stories, the imagery is inspiring, and it's difficult to get through.

The real Virginia Woolf wouldn't have had it any other way.

The Arts & Entertainment Editor can be reached at artsdesk@unc.edu.