Michael Radford, reportedly on the instructions of George Orwell's widow, presents here a grim, stark dramatisation of the famous old book. There are no futuristic special effects on show here, in fact, apart from the dream-sequence scenes set in the countryside, there seem to be only fifty shades of grey in the director's colour palette.
This and the grindingly slow pace throughout can make it a somewhat tortuous watch, especially when I imagine everyone knows the ending in advance and therefore has nothing positive or uplifting to look forward to. There are minimal sets, minimal use of any musical soundtrack apart from the ubiquitous "Hail Oceania" anthem and the acting too is similarly, sometimes literally, certainly in Suzanna Hamilton's case as Julia, stripped down to the bone.
All of which is I suppose as it should be. Orwell wrote his book as a warning against totalitarianism and despite Winston's feeble protestations before his free will finally gives way under O'Brien's metaphorical boot-stamping, rat-running torture, there really is no hope for the future. The future's not orange, it's grey.
The aptly named John Hurt suffered for his art in more than one role in his long career and he is suitably grim and stoical here as the luckless Smith. Richard Burton in his final role before he died not long after shooting the movie, subtly underplays the part of the sadistic interrogator O'Brien. I'd go so far as to say that it must be the first time I've not been aware of stopping to admire his modulated tones while watching him act, which has to be a good thing.
Many times over since Orwell completed his novel in 1948, we've seen and continue to see the prescience in his writing, indeed I was surprised not to hear the phrase "fake news" come up in the dialogue.
While at times tough to watch, I felt that this movie, deliberately shot and released in the actual year of its title, was admirably true to the text, for which I commend it. 1984's ultimate fate it seems is to be forever contemporary.
This and the grindingly slow pace throughout can make it a somewhat tortuous watch, especially when I imagine everyone knows the ending in advance and therefore has nothing positive or uplifting to look forward to. There are minimal sets, minimal use of any musical soundtrack apart from the ubiquitous "Hail Oceania" anthem and the acting too is similarly, sometimes literally, certainly in Suzanna Hamilton's case as Julia, stripped down to the bone.
All of which is I suppose as it should be. Orwell wrote his book as a warning against totalitarianism and despite Winston's feeble protestations before his free will finally gives way under O'Brien's metaphorical boot-stamping, rat-running torture, there really is no hope for the future. The future's not orange, it's grey.
The aptly named John Hurt suffered for his art in more than one role in his long career and he is suitably grim and stoical here as the luckless Smith. Richard Burton in his final role before he died not long after shooting the movie, subtly underplays the part of the sadistic interrogator O'Brien. I'd go so far as to say that it must be the first time I've not been aware of stopping to admire his modulated tones while watching him act, which has to be a good thing.
Many times over since Orwell completed his novel in 1948, we've seen and continue to see the prescience in his writing, indeed I was surprised not to hear the phrase "fake news" come up in the dialogue.
While at times tough to watch, I felt that this movie, deliberately shot and released in the actual year of its title, was admirably true to the text, for which I commend it. 1984's ultimate fate it seems is to be forever contemporary.