The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry is Uplifting

 

 

 

The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry (2023)

Directed by Hettie Macdonald

Entertainment One/Lionsgate, 108 minutes, Not-rated

★★★★

 

This is the time of the year in which many viewers want something heartwarming and wholesome to watch. You could watch something for the umpteenth time like Charlie Brown’s Christmas, It’s a Wonderful Life, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, or Miracle on 34^th Street. (I’ve been told that A Christmas Carol is too scary for kids and Elf rots brain tissue.) But why not stretch for a tale that will restore your faith in humankind. Who doesn’t need that in advance of swearing in Godzilla on January 20?

 

The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry is based on Rachel Joyce’s bestselling novel of the same name and is another of those rare-but-happy coincidences in which the book and movie are equally satisfying. Harold Fry (Jim Broadbent) and his wife Maureen (Penelope Wilton) are in a rut in which each day is just like another. Theirs is a comfortable middle-class Devonshire co-existence, but not exactly a thrill a minute. Harold listens to the radio, reads the paper, and eats his breakfast; Maureen cleans, nags, and complains. When Harold finds out that Queenie Hennessy, an old work friend, is dying of cancer, he quickly scribbles a platitude, sets out to the news agent to buy a stamp, and just keeps walking. At first he has no goal, but when he shares his helpless feelings about Queenie to a heavily tattooed woman at a garage (Nina Singh), she tells him how she saved an aunt via personal caring, Harold pivots.  Armed only with a rucksack, the clothes on his back, and a pair of slip-ons, he decides to walk to Berwick upon Tweed on the Scottish border to see Queenie. He scribbles a message to Queenie to hang on and begins a 500-mile walking trek. An unlikely journey, but one that transforms him into an impromptu pilgrim.

 

Harold is about as meek, old-fashioned, and as blissfully unaware of social media as they come, but he encounters a young man who has heard of Harold’s walk and asks if he can take a souvenir shot of Harold. As you might expect, Maureen is frantic after Harold is gone for several days with no word. She shares with her neighbor Rex (Joseph Mydell) her fear that Harold has left her. Imagine her surprise when she sees Harold’s picture and learns about his unusual journey from the news.

 

Harold’s story resonates and he is treated kindly by those he meets. Marina, an immigrant who works as cleaner was a doctor in Slovakia and treats his painful blisters. When Harold finally calls Maureen, she is livid and dismissive, but Harold keeps on walking. Ordinary (and not) Brits are drawn to him. He collects an 18 year-old junkie, Wilf, who reminds Harold of his own son’s drug problems, and acts as if Harold can keep him straight. Soon, Harold is a phenomenon with a veritable camp city trailing him. Harold, though, is a reluctant celebrity who eventually sneaks off to escape the noise and hype. He calls Maureen when he can, slowly casts off material things, and simply trusts that he will find whatever he needs. He’s no religious ascetic but he is elderly and worries about making it to Berwick on time. Will he make it? Will Queenie hang on?  

 

Ultimately The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry takes on issues much bigger than a wicked long tramp across Britain, including grief, hope, payback, letting go, and pushing the reset button on life. It comes down to questions of what can be forgiven, what cannot, and who is being saved from what.

 

Director Hattie Macdonald is to be commended for not trying to make mountains of mole hills via forced universalizing. When you have veteran actors such as Jim Broadbent and Penelope Wilton, a light touch works better than an imperious one. Harold Fry has been labeled a drama, but it’s actually a “small film” that is heavy on character and light on action. Harold is just an ordinary bloke trying to sort out what his life has been about. Where some directors might advise Broadbent or Wilton to deliver what I call the “Big Speech” that is part confessional, part fill-in explanation, and chocked full of life-altering thunder. Instead, Macdonald allows Harold and Maureen to wade tentatively into shallow water. Somehow this feels more human and optimistic.

 

Rob Weir

Shelburne Museum Art Quiz

 

I know, I know; some of you are just now finishing taking or correcting finals, so who in their right mind wants to take a quiz? No grades are involved, so think of it as a game instead and post your comments on either the blog or on Facebook. (Under FB's new format you might have to drag the images onto your desktop to view them in a larger size.)

 

Here are a bunch of photos I took in visits to Vermont’s Shelburne Museum from various trips. Each one will appear under the questions. Have some seasonal fun, fa la la.

 

The first comes from a little known illustrator/painter named  Arthur Burdett Frost. It’s called “Country Store” and was painted sometime between 1880-1920. What does he want us to think of Vermont and is it accurate?

 

 

 

I’ve shown this one before, but this one is fun. It’s from Enoch Wood  in 1899 and is called “The Pemigewasset Coach.” How many things can you see that are wrong with this picture?  

 

 

 

Grandma Moses is a beloved artist among many; others can’t stand her “primitive art.” Here’s her “The Mailman Has Gone” from 1949. What’s your take on her?

 

 

 

 

Andrew Wyeth is another iconic painter, though in his lifetime he was often dismissed as a “mere illustrator.” He is a gigantic painting called “Soaring” (1942-50) of circling turkey buzzards and a detail of it. If you are judging it today, is this the work of a mere illustrator?

 

 

 

 

Jay Connaway (1893-1970) isn’t very well known, but here’s one for Vermonters. Here’s his undated “Winter’s Blast Pawlett, Vermont.” In what ways does he capture the dead of winter?  

 

 

 

 

Here’s a conundrum. Martin Heyde did this birds-eye view of Burlington, VT in 1860. Airplanes hadn’t been invented yet and there were no hot-air balloons in Burlington or a vantage point where he could have seen all that he painted. How did he do it? 

 

 

 

Here’s one from Thomas Chambers done in 1850. Who knows where this was painted? 

 

 

 

Finally, here are two items from the museum’s outstanding collection of American folk art. What’s the folkloric purpose of the giant tooth trade sign and is it true? Why would the Indian carving be problematic today?