Given that the film, like most biographies, repeats the same tired events between the Plath-Hughes's that we know all too well, this film is not a revelation or surprise. It is predictable, if reasonably well-acted, it still lacks any real insight or passion and ultimately, that is a let-down, and even our Gwyneth, who clearly put her all into the role and does succeed, cannot over a script that we are now deafened too for we've heard it just one too many times.

We have to ask ourselves, why is it that we are so comfortable with the myth of who Plath and Hughes were and not with the rest of the details that make up the reality. Why is that we must always punish Hughes and see Plath as the victim, or vice versa. Why is the truth not, where it usually can be found, somewhere in the middle.

AT the end of the day, the real story can be found by reading Hughes's book Birthday Letters and Plaths's posthumously published Ariel side-by-side and page-for-page. They real like two communicating vessels, her final words, spoken before she stepped to the grave, and his response that comes too late to save her. It is a response worth hearing nonetheless and together, both tell the true tale of a couple that were always communicating, sending out signals like creates echolocating and pinging back and forth through the darkness.

sadi ranson-polizzotti

For more articles on Plath and Hughes or other work by SRP click here for tant mieux or here.