Madonna’s “W.E.” is one of the slickest-looking misfires of recent memory. As a contemporary melodrama – with high romance, deep tragedy, and a manipulative plot that completely bypasses the roadblocks of plausibility – it doesn’t really deliver. As a showcase of costume design, makeup and hair, and art direction, it’s a triumph. Every frame drips with sophistication and glamor, as if made to resemble a photo spread in an issue of “Vogue.” Hagen Bogdanski’s cinematography is beautifully theatrical, perhaps even dreamlike; he seems especially enamored with the snow white face of actress Andrea Riseborough, who, even through the fine mesh of a veil, looks as positively radiant as a Cover Girl model. I wouldn’t be surprised if the film’s striking visuals are noticed when award nominations are announced.

“W.E.” could arguably be mentioned in the same sentence as Nora Ephron’s “Julie & Julia,” as both are historically inclined and tell the story of women who share a connection despite being separated by era. This time around, the catalyst is Wallis Simpson, the American socialite whose third husband, England’s King Edward VIII, abdicated the throne in 1936 to make their marriage possible. This was, in its time, quite scandalous, and to this day, Simpson remains a source of much speculation and controversy. One could also make a connection to last year’s Oscar-winning “The King’s Speech”; it told the story of Edward’s brother, Prince Albert, who was forced into becoming King George VI when Edward relinquished the crown. In no way should you think of “W.E.” as a sequel, a continuation, an expansion, a branching off, or anything along those lines.

Unlike “Julie & Julia,” one of the stories told in “W.E.” is not based on a real person. In fact, were it not for the costumes and the modern era in which it takes place, it could have been transplanted straight from the pages of a dime store romance novel. The year is 1998. The place, New York City. Wally Winthrop (Abbie Cornish) is the wife of a successful doctor named William (Richard Coyle). In public, he’s a beloved figure of the community; we see him at a gala event being praised by his associates. In private, he’s a distant, abusive alcoholic who regularly works late. Do I need to explain what that really means? He refuses to let her work, and he has complete control over their finances. In spite of his obvious lack of interest in his wife, Wally is eager to get pregnant and repeatedly tries to make advances. When you’re forcefully dragged out of the bathtub by your hair and thrown on the floor, perhaps it’s time to consider an alternative method of conception.

She obsesses over what she perceives to be the ultimate love story: That of Simpson and Edward. It just so happens that Sotheby’s will soon be auctioning off several items of the Windsor Estate, and she grants herself several visits to do nothing but stare at the collection and tearfully daydream. We do know that she once worked at Sotheby’s, although that doesn’t explain the ease with which she gains access. Never mind. Keeping an eye on her is a Russian security guard named Evgeni (Oscar Isaac), who we eventually learn was an intellectual and is still one heck of a pianist. As the days pass, he bends more and more of Sotheby’s house rules for Wally until such time when, yes, they fall in love. But then Wally flies to France and visits the estate of a man who has a collection of private letters written by Simpson. It seems her love life wasn’t the fairy tale Wally made it out to be.

The film frequently intercuts between 1998 and the early twentieth century, at which point we witness the various stages of the romance between Simpson (Riseborough) and Edward (James D’Arcy). When first introduced, she’s forcefully removed from a bathtub by her abusive first husband and kicked in the stomach. She was, of course, pregnant, although the blood that spreads across the tiles tells us that a baby is not in the cards for her. We then see her during her second marriage to Ernest Aldrich Simpson (David Harbour), who seems remarkably calm and gentlemanlike when divorce becomes apparent. Indeed, she gets along splendidly with Edward. The two bounce witticisms and flirtatious comments off of each other like tennis balls.

During these segments, Madonna revels in an atmosphere of pure high society, with lots of cocktail mixing, double cheek pecking, and gossipy chatter between young women in formal attire. And let’s not forget the cigarette smoke. The curious thing is that most of the smoking is done by the men. In all their important scenes, Edward and Evgeni puff away like steam trains (we will eventually see Edward as an old man hooked up to an oxygen machine, which only goes to show). I don’t think there’s a name for it, but if you pay attention to the way they hold their cigarettes, you will have the uncanny feeling that you have reentered Hollywood’s Golden Age, during which movie stars somehow made smoking seem elegant. I think I’ve just pinpointed the failure of “W.E.”: It’s about an image when it should be about a story.

- Chris Pandolfi

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