W.E.

Details

W.E.
Directed by Madonna
The Weinstein Company
Opens February 3

Related Content

• My Thoughts On The Oscars As They Happen!
  February 26, 2012
• Elton John's Husband Trashes Madonna For Golden Globe Win And Speech!
  January 16, 2012
• The Golden Globes Pit Madonna Vs. Gaga (And Elton) Vs. Mary J. Vs. Sinéad Vs. Chris (Cornell)
  December 15, 2011
• Madonna Is Sizzling Hot Again!
  January 17, 2012
• Madonna Apologizes To Hydrangeas!
  September 12, 2011

More About

• Wallis Simpson
• W.E. (Movie)
• Madonna (Entertainer)
• Celebrity News
• Arts, Entertainment, and Media

Like this Story?

Sign up for the Events Newsletter: What's happening in town? From underground club nights to the biggest outdoor festivals, our top picks for the week's best events will always keep you in on the action.

Privacy Policy Cancel Continue

W.E. is the second feature film credited to former MTV queen Madonna and the second recent film—after The King's Speech—to dramatize the empire-imperiling affair between King Edward (James D'Arcy) and American divorcée Wallis Simpson (Andrea Riseborough), a woman who couldn't be queen. The movie was lambasted by critics at the fall festivals, with many citing a late-inning scene in which a Benzedrine-addled, circa-'30s Simpson dirty-dances to "Pretty Vacant" by the Sex Pistols as particularly indicative of its maker's cluelessness. Certainly, W.E. is the work of a woman who apparently hasn't spent time with normal human beings in a while. But Madonna's anachronistic use of music is the least of her movie's problems. It's basic storytelling that stymies her. In telling of the Simpson affair through the blatantly whacked lens of Wally (Abbie Cornish), an unhappy trophy wife in late-'90s Manhattan who becomes obsessed with the "fairy tale" romance of Wallis and Edward when the couple's effects are auctioned by Sotheby's, Madonna borrows heavily from the music-video form she has already mastered: aesthetics first, with an anything-is-possible anti-logic. There is a kernel of a fascinating film here about the dangers of coveting luxuries and of imbuing beautiful things with imagined life. But as Wally's story goes on (and on, and on . . .), the film falls increasingly deeper into the fetishization it takes as its subject, repeatedly imbuing clothes and jewelry with heavy symbolism, and forgetting any impulse to critique. But even a shot of a pearl necklace falling off of a woman as her husband beats her is too dumb to really gall.