The Help

Based on the book by Kathryn Stockett, The Help follows aspiring author Skeeter Phelan (Emma Stone) as she sets out to write a book about the hardships faced by black maids in 1960s Mississippi. There are certainly plenty of elements contained within The Help worth admiring and enjoying – the movie is, for example, quite well acted from top to bottom – and yet one’s efforts at wholeheartedly embracing the narrative are thwarted on a regular basis by an excessively deliberate pace and a preponderance of needless subplots. (In terms of the latter, it’s difficult to work up much interest in or enthusiasm for, for example, the ongoing exploits of Jessica Chastain’s bubbly Celia Foote.) Filmmaker Tate Taylor has certainly infused the proceedings with a strong sense of place and atmosphere, and although the writer/director offers up a handful of engaging sequences (eg Octavia Spencer’s Minny explains her revenge against a thoughtless former employer), The Help suffers from a repetitive vibe that grows increasingly problematic as time (slowly) progresses (ie Taylor hammers home the incredible racism of several periphery figures over and over again). Taylor’s palpably meandering sensibilities are exacerbated by an almost comically overlong running time (146 minutes!), with the pervasive lack of momentum dulling the impact of the crowd-pleasing and tear-jerking moments that crop up during the movie’s second half. The end result is a watchable yet erratic Oscar-bait drama that could (and should) have been so much better, with the movie’s relative failure especially disappointing given the caliber of the various performances (ie the various actresses, particularly Viola Davis, are often much, much better than the material they’ve been given).

**1/2 out of ****