I must say, I was greatly disappointed. The story of two icons of the Romantic era has become something rather unattractive and uninteresting in this Hollywood refit. Chopin, herein a tall strapping Pole with a fab hairstyle courtesy of America 1945, hardly shows any signs of the wasting ailment that claimed him at age 39. Strike that, after Sand mentions in the later portion of the film that he is not well, he sports a bit of shadow in his cheekbones courtesy the makeup crew. George Sand is reduced to the most simple of possibilities, portrayed as a baleful sphinx rather than a woman sympathetic to a fellow artist and more importantly, her lover. Her face shows little emotion as she moves through the scenes in improbable ensembles (a pumpkin frock with sequins while writing in the country home? Please.) The passion evident in her novels and in her biographical records should have lent itself to a fleshier scripting of her character, and not this wooden `dragon lady' cliché.
Instead, we are given the character of his teacher, symbolic of his beloved Poland and the life he lead there. Thickly accented, he is a typically comedic boob, pathetic in his displacement in Paris and out of Chopin's life. Sorry, but I didn't feel it made up for the lack of a cohesive storyline, the frightful design, and the awkwardly black and white acting. I would have forgiven the storyline inaccuracies if the film moved me, made me laugh, or perhaps swoon with escapist delight as other Hollywood films of this period do. A more modern film, "Impromptu" (1991), comes highly recommended by this writer, as most of the infirmities of this film are remedied; thus resulting in a much more entertaining and thoughtful bit of cinema stemming from the same source, Sand and Chopin and the cast of personalities that shared their era.
Instead, we are given the character of his teacher, symbolic of his beloved Poland and the life he lead there. Thickly accented, he is a typically comedic boob, pathetic in his displacement in Paris and out of Chopin's life. Sorry, but I didn't feel it made up for the lack of a cohesive storyline, the frightful design, and the awkwardly black and white acting. I would have forgiven the storyline inaccuracies if the film moved me, made me laugh, or perhaps swoon with escapist delight as other Hollywood films of this period do. A more modern film, "Impromptu" (1991), comes highly recommended by this writer, as most of the infirmities of this film are remedied; thus resulting in a much more entertaining and thoughtful bit of cinema stemming from the same source, Sand and Chopin and the cast of personalities that shared their era.