Well, “The Iron Lady,” which opens nationwide in mid-January, wasn’t as deadly as “J. Edgar,” so that was a relief. And it was fun seeing the great Meryl Streep inhabit yet another character with a foreign accent, although even though she was playing Margaret Thatcher I couldn’t help hearing just a hint of Julia Child (something in the high-pitched voice, I guess).
The trouble with making a biopic as a feature film is that they too often feel like they’d be better off on the History Channel or A&E, this one included. It does an admirable job of cutting back and forth between the memory challenged elderly Thatcher and the young daughter of a grocery store owner who rises to power in Britain despite being a woman. And there are scenes that are genuinely affecting as the elderly Thatcher struggles to deal with the loss of her husband and the distant relationships with her two children.
But it was sooooooooooooooo slow. And repetitive. And just plain dull. Even in nonfiction, you need drama to keep the audience hooked, and there was precious little drama in “The Iron Lady.”
As the credits rolled, I turned to Michael and said, “Why did anybody think telling this story was a good idea?”