Beau Brummell (2006)

“There are but three great men of our age, myself, Napoleon and Brummell, but of we three, the greatest of all is Brummell.”

— Lord Byron

For a film about one of the most desirable men of the Regency starring one of the most desirable British actors, I would have thought it impossible for Beau Brummell: This Charming Man to disappoint.

This 2006 biopic about the man responsible for the simple yet sophisticated men’s fashion of the early 19th century — fashion that still dominates today — comes across much like Mansfield Park 1999: it feels all wrong. From the shoddy cinematography, to the shaky history, to the unrealistic social scenes, the entire movie is just uncomfortable to watch.

George Bryan “Beau” Brummell is such an interesting and influential historical figure, it is tragic how little justice this film does to his story — as in, there is no story at all. An audience at least deserves to know how a commoner like Brummell manages to get on a first-name basis (which I find almost impossible to take seriously) with the Prince of Wales, a man remembered for his vanity, pride, and sense of station. Instead, we find Brummell already the Prince Regent’s right-hand man with no backstory whatsoever. For clarification purposes, Brummell was the grandson of a self-made valet, born into a well-to-do family, but a commoner nonetheless. The Prince met the 15-year-old Brummell one day in Green Park, and offered the handsome boy a place in his regiment, the fashionable 10th Hussars. But when exactly Beau had the brainwave that “less is more” and invented the Dandy is unknown:

By what means a young man, neither noble nor rich, nor particularly talented, managed to persuade society not only to follow his lead in fashion but to regard him as the ultimate authority remains unclear. (An Elegant Madness; Murray, 29)

Self-confidence seems to have been his making, and he had an abundance of it, which is made clear in the film. His arrogance was legendary, but so was his charm. It seems unlikely, however, that he would have been so loose with the Prince Regent in the company of others — more due to the Prince’s own pride than Brummell’s. Hugh Bonneville’s Prince is downright charitable in this film, which was certainly not the case with his touchy historical counterpart. The manly bonhomie between the two of them was significantly exaggerated. I also have a hard time believing Brummell and his valet/master servant Robinson (Phil Davis) would have been on such an equal footing, or that Robinson would have accompanied Brummell dressed as if an acquaintance rather than a servant — but perhaps the Beau would tolerate only the best wardrobe even for his man.

The nude dressing scenes are another example of modern “bromance” sneaking into a costume drama. Being invited to watch the Beau at his toilette was an honor, this much is true, but under no circumstances would the observation begin from the nude. A Captain Jesse arrived to watch the Beau dress and found, much to his delight and surprise, that he could see Brummell in the early stages of his toilette through the cracked door and the reflection in a mirror; even when supposedly in private, Brummell was recorded wearing trousers and a robe (Murray, 26). And in his biography Beau Brummell: The Ultimate Man of Fashion, Ian Kelley refers to the “half-naked toilette” (82) that the Prince Regent would attend in a discussion about the speculated physical intimacy between the Prince and Brummell; if it was a naked toilette, Kelley would have certainly mentioned it here.

Kelley also believes the evidence that Brummell and Lord Byron (played by Matthew Rhys) were romantically involved is “flimsy” (203), though he does devote considerable time to the subject. Byron definitely had a thing for young men, but Murray states in An Elegant Madness,

[...] Brummell is not on record as ever having shown any serious interest in women. He was not homosexual, merely uninterested in sex, and far too much of a narcissist to be bothered with loving anyone else. (31)

Whatever the facts, I can forgive the filmmakers for their interpretation. The idea of Beau Brummell and Lord Byron together — two unattainable, enchanting, dazzling men, the heartthrobs of the Regency — is, understandably, too good to pass up.

I’m also not sure whether or not the shaky, dizzy camera shots were meant to be “artistic”, but when it gives you a headache, something is definitely wrong. Used sparingly, these shots are wonderful for emphasizing chaos, confusion, drunkenness, etc., but when a character is examining a piece of muslin? That’s just pointless. And to open a film with a prolonged, shaky, zoomed-in shot of the sexy star getting dressed? That’s counterproductive. The film lacks many wide-angle shots overall, allowing for very little “breathing room.” A “stuffy” costume drama indeed.

There are some delightful lines and scenes (i.e. “the making of a Dandy”) in this film taken straight from Brummell’s biography, but on the whole, Beau Brummell is a disappointment. I would have loved to see more about the Carlton House Set, or a scene of Brummell holding court at White’s bow window — his trademark pastime. What we get instead is the fall of Beau Brummell, rather than the magnificent rise. James Purefoy delights us once again with his delicious frock-coat-and-trousers-wearing self, complete with those magnificent sideburns so reminiscent of Rawdon Crawley in Vanity Fair 2004, but that is the only reason I am going to bother buying the DVD. 2 stars.

~ by Lady Ashley on November 8, 2009.