Florence Foster Jenkins

 

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I wonder why they even made this movie.

It follows a ridiculous and wealthy socialite who, surrounded by sycophants her entire life, wrongly believes that she can sing beautifully. It’s a tragic story in its own way, but nothing worth meriting a nearly two-hour spectacle.

Jenkins unwittingly lived her entire life as a lie. The one thing she was moderately talented at was playing the piano, but when syphilis cripples her hands, Jenkins turns to singing. And for the next few decades of her life, no one tells her that she is godawful.

It’s a wonderful study in the way in which money can buy you absolutely anything, no matter how undeserved.

The one enjoyable part was seeing Cosmé McMoon squirm through his first lesson with Ms. Florence. The Big Bang Theory’s Simon Helberg was a pleasure to watch. His was the only character I found sympathetic, since I couldn’t help pitying Jenkins, and felt a little disgusted by St. Clair Bayfield’s actions. Some would argue his actions were romantic and sprang out of pure love and devotion, but I think they were just cruel. He made her a laughingstock.

 

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