Sylvia Plath fans, unite! A film has been made celebrating her depression! And due to sanctions made by her family, none
of her actual poetry is used in the film! So it's a movie about a creative type who's really sad! Imagine the joy in watching it. In truth, though the film, directed by Christine Jeffs, is technically proficient and features a perfectly good performance by Gwyneth Paltrow, I cannot imagine enduring it again. The entire point seems to be: She sure was sad. Boy, look how sad she was. She must be bipolar or manic depressive or something. Sad, sad, sad. Oh, and then she killed herself. Sad, sad, sad. Unless you are a devotee of Ms. Plath's, the film will hold little interest for you. It begins with her at Cambridge in 1956, an American girl on a Fulbright scholarship. After her poetry is excoriated in the campus literary journal, she meets the critic, a fellow poet named Ted Hughes (Daniel Craig). They fall in love and are married, and he, with his sonorous voice and rugged good looks, becomes a fan favorite while she is saddled with domestic chores and finds it difficult to create new poetry herself.
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