The best part of watching The Critic for us Indians is, no, not Ian McKellen, which of course is a huge incentive. For us, the fact that the film is directed by a man of Indian origin Anand Tucker is a matter of immense pride. I fondly recall Anand’s And When Did You Last See Your Father with two other brilliant British actors Jim Broadbent and Colin Firth as father and son.
That was a far less savage, much more intuitive journey into the heart of the pater. The Critic is a work of enormous appetites. Its tone, even when it falters towards the end, is unabashedly epicurean.
This is London in the 1930s when critics made and unmade careers especially on stage. The indomitable Ian McKellen plays the arrogant, sharp-tongued, malicious and self-obsessed Jimmy Erskine whom the actors fear like the plague. When the young upcoming actress Nina Land (Gemma Arterton) gets repeatedly shriveling reviews from Jimmy (I don’t think he would like being called by his first name and bah to that) she does the unthinkable: Nina confronts Jimmy right in front of his house.
The confrontation is deliciously pitched with Jimmy coerced into confessing that he criticizes Nina as she has a core of genuine talent which does not access. I am not sure he means it. So far this film is pitch-perfect, resolutely tuned to its protagonist’s bratty arrogance and his defiance of all human definitions of civil conduct.
There is a masterly sequence where Jimmy insists on cuddling up to his gay black lover To.
