Notes on a Scandal

Let me just get this out of the way first: Judi Dench kicks ass! It took me a while to get used to her as M in the James Bond movies, but by the time Casino Royale rolled into theaters, I was 100% sold on her as M. In Chocolat, she completely stole the show as the flaky grandmother who rediscovers the joys of living. And in Notes on a Scandal? Well, let's examine that a little further, shall we?

I first saw the trailer for Notes on a Scandal at the AFI when I went to see Inland Empire, and it left me thinking that it was going to be a blackmailing movie. The movie's premise, that Cate Blanchett has an affair with a student, was highlighted in the trailer—with Judi Dench sadly in the know, and thus totally bending Cate to her will. But Notes on a Scandal actually took a different approach: instead of blackmail, it presented a character study on loneliness, isolation, friendship, and obsession.

In Notes, Judi Dench plays Barbara Covett, an embittered old woman who never married, never had children, has outlived her usefulness at the London school where she teaches, and keeps a diary in which she chronicles her views on life, people, and those she believes to be her "friends." With a new term starting at school, Barbara notices the new art teacher, Sheba Hart, as played by Cate Blanchett. Through Barbara's ever-watchful eyes (which seem to miss nothing), we see Sheba's first few weeks at the school, where she hits it off with several teachers but can't seem to handle the disciplinary aspects of her classes. One day, Sheba unsuccessfully tries to break up a fight that's begun in her class, and in steps Barbara to save the day. From there, Sheba and Barbara slowly begin something of a friendship, and ever so gradually, Sheba willingly brings Barbara into her life, introducing Barbara to her family and inviting her over for family dinners and various outings—though Sheba's husband and teenage daughter are a little weary of Barbara from the start.

But at one such outing, where Sheba was supposed to meet Barbara for some sort of concert, Barbara accidentally catches Sheba in the act—with one of her students. Initially, I expected the crux of the story to lie within Sheba's affair with her student, but the real meat of the story was Barbara's obsessive "friendship" with Sheba, and how she used Sheba's affair as a bargaining chip in her favor—and trust me, Barbara doesn't waste any time using her knowledge of this affair to her advantage.

This sort of twist to the storyline proved surprisingly effective, because it showed the ugliness of both female characters, their weaknesses, their vulnerabilities—with each other, with themselves, with their families. The pivotal scene of the film, I felt, was when Barbara has to put her dog to sleep and comes to Sheba for comfort, only Sheba and her family are desperately late for one of her children's plays. I call this scene pivotal because a choice has to be made here: the friend vs. the family. And I think it's clear from the start that, while family means everything to Sheba, it means very little to Barbara . . . particularly since she doesn't have one of her own. All she really has is a sister, who does show up in one striking scene. One night during a visit, her sister walks in on Barbara while she's writing in her journal, and during their talk, the sister subtly reaches out to Barbara, but Barbara doesn't accept. She doesn't out-and-out reject her, but suggests subtly enough that she won't reciprocate—proving that even Barbara's sister, her own blood, is beneath her and can't escape her scrutinization. But here's the kicker: in rejecting her sister, Barbara actually reinforces her own isolation. Which leads me to ask the question, why does she obsess over the companionship and friendship of Sheba if she can't even accept her own sister?

There was actually something a little disturbing about Barbara's friendship with Sheba. Having never married, Barbara was clearly exhibiting signs of desperation for companionship—any companionship—which manifested itself through her affection to her pets. But when it came to Sheba, a few times it seemed to border uncomfortably on erotic, which left me wondering a few times if Barbara was a lesbian. But it's Sheba's illicit affair that Barbara uses so effectively to keep Sheba dependent upon her, and watching Barbara wield this power is downright disturbing.

I haven't seen The Queen yet, so I can't quite evaluate Helen Mirren's performance against Judi Dench's. But having said that, Judi Dench fully deserved her Best Actress Oscar nomination. Unlike some of her other roles, she was actually quite frightening as Barbara Covett—particularly when her sense of rejection and betrayal got the best of her. She exhibited the depths of loneliness and resentment more than I ever thought possible: in mannerism, in appearance, even in name (Covett)! Cate Blanchett's Oscar nomination actually surprised me. I thought she was good, but not quite enough to warrant an Oscar nomination. Plus, her character Sheba Hart actually left me conflicted, because you want to sympathize with her because Barbara stalks and controls her so—but at the same time, her affair with her student makes you want to dislike her.

In the end, neither Barbara nor Sheba are characters you're supposed to like, because both have skeletons in the closet, and both have committed crimes for which they must pay.

There really wasn't much of a supporting cast, largely because much of the film focused purely on the two leads. In fact, Sheba's family made up most of the supporting cast. I actually enjoyed Bill Nighy's performance as Sheba's husband (though he was almost unrecognizable outside of his Davy Jones makeup), and the girl who played Sheba's daughter exuded the right amount of teenage angst—especially given the circumstances. And the scenes were given extra life by an impressive and catchy score by Philip Glass. But by and large, Notes on a Scandal belongs firmly to Dame Judi, and I give this an 8.5 out of 10.