by Frank Wilkins
Fans of Sylvia Plath's poetry might come away from Sylvia a bit disappointed. Rather than a display of Plath's love of the English word and her remarkable flourish, Sylvia is a dark and disturbing look at her marriage, her home-life and her flirtatious curiosity with death. Although we are treated to a few selections of her work, namely during a poetry slam session unintentionally reminiscent of similar scenes in 8 Mile, for the most part Director Christine Jeffs angles the story towards Plath's domestic life rather than her literary career.

We first meet the young and dreamy-eyed Sylvia Plath (Gwyneth Paltrow) during her college years in England. As a vivacious American poet, her writings catch the eye of fellow poet and current critic Ted Hughes (Daniel Craig). Problem is, he doesn't like her work. As a reaction, Plath begins to read some of his stories and discovers that she not only likes his writings, but she also recognizes a tender and romantic attraction to her eventual husband.

Dismayed by the vicious reviews of her work, the pair moves to the States and takes up residence in Boston. The only insight into Sylvia's fragile mental stability comes from meeting her mother Aurelia, played by Paltrow's real-life mother Blythe Danner. An uncomfortably brilliant sequence between Aurelia and Ted exposes some of Sylvia's many insecurities that include an earlier failed suicide. We watch Danner masterfully display that innate maternal instinct of, "you are not good enough for my daughter" yet she screams it with only stares.

As Paltrow narrates with readings of Plath's work, we see Sylvia and Ted's relationship begin to flourish as the two move back to England with children in tow. The dreary atmosphere of Devon beautifully mirrors Sylvia's misty mental state, but Ted's adulterous ways begin to drive a deadly wedge between the two, spiking Sylvia's recurring jealousy and further deepening her depression. Sylvia eventually opens the valves on her gas oven, effectively ending her life and undoubtedly propelling her fame in literary and poetic circles.

In walking away after watching Sylvia, I couldn't help but realize that I didn't really care about Sylvia's story. Remove Plath's literary success and Sylvia is merely an all-encompassing and very generic tale about infidelity, jealousy and the destruction of depression. The characters aren't necessarily likable nor are they very interesting. Paltrow never seems able to embrace and convey the depths of a ravaged soul. All too frequently she comes off as a cowardly whiner and bellyacher rather than a brilliant mind suffering the devastation of depression.

I still don't care about Sylvia Plath or her poetry. And Sylvia's filmmakers, namely screenwriter John Brownlow, ultimately did nothing to make me feel I should care.

Frank Wilkins