From 1958 to 1992 to our present vantage point of 2018, we observe Joan and Joe Castleman in the context of their times, and ours.Įn route to Stockholm for the Nobel Prize ceremonies (aboard the Concorde, still the transatlantic vessel of choice in 1992), Joan and Joe are accompanied by their son DAVID (Max Irons), an aspiring writer in his twenties who feels that Joe belittles his work. THE WIFE interweaves the midcentury story of the couple’s youthful passion and ambition with a portrait of a marriage, thirty-plus years later-a lifetime’s shared compromises, secrets, betrayals, and genuine, mutual love. Joe’s literary star has blazed since he and Joan first met in the late 1950s, when she was a demure Smith student and he, her (married) creative writing teacher. It’s 1992, and Joe is about to be awarded the Nobel Prize for his acclaimed and prolific body of work. At times, a restless discontentment can be glimpsed beneath Joan’s smoothly decorous surface, but her natural dignity and keen sense of humor carry her through the rough spots.
And where Joe enjoys his very public role as Great American Novelist, Joan pours her considerable intellect, grace, charm, and diplomacy into the private role of Great Man’s Wife, keeping the household running smoothly, the adult children in close contact, and Joe’s pills dispensed on schedule. Where Joe is vain, Joan is self-effacing. The symphonic sounds are simply gorgeous, and the listener really needs the large cardboard album cover with photos to fully appreciate the soundtrack experience.Directed by Berlin Silver Bear-winner Björn Runge, THE WIFE is adapted by Jane Anderson from the Meg Wolitzer novel of the same name.Īfter nearly forty years of marriage, JOAN and JOE CASTLEMAN (Glenn Close and Jonathan Pryce) are complements: Where Joe is brash, Joan is shy. Her performance on "You and I" is stunning juxtaposed against O'Toole's reading one can see the balance and the necessity of having a female lead with the ability to handle the complex notes. Here she is as sophisticated as Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music, the precious instrument that is her voice providing more evidence of what an exquisite and underrated talent Clark is. This is far removed from Petula Clark's The Grass Is Always Greener album, where she works with orchestration in a pop format.
Both get to work with the chorus of boys in the film, and the production is the class act one would expect given the involvement of such high-ticket talent. Of the 15 tracks, Petula Clark gets seven, Peter O'Toole is given four, and neither of them get to duet with each other. A glorious, eight-page gatefold contains information on all of the principals in this remake of the 1939 MGM film. The original vinyl soundtrack album became a cutout for awhile, proving some labels do not know the true value of what they release. With three academy award nominations, one each for conductor John Williams, composer Leslie Bricusse, and vocalist/star Peter O'Toole, the soundtrack to the 1969 film does more to solidify Petula Clark's role as a woman of great talent than the attempts by her record label at the time, Warner Brothers, to break her out of the pop realm where she was so very welcome.