John Keats fell in love with a woman called Fanny Brawn, wrote her a book of
poetry, singly failed to get into a proper relationship with her, fell ill,
emigrated to Italy for his health, and died soon after. If you're just after
facts, I hope I've saved you the bother of watching this film. If you're
intent on watching it, well, treasure that name Fanny Brawn, it's the only
laugh you're going to get.
I would not like you to think that I disliked this movie because of its
subject, however. Oh no. There is so much more to hate. The dialogue is stilted
in the extreme. The costumes are bizarre. The scenes intercut so haphazardly
that you sometimes feel you're watching it on shuffle. It's stuffed full of
tired tropes you see in every damned costume drama.
And it's long. Boy is it long. A third of the way through Star Wars, they blow
up Alderaan and billions die. Minutes into Saving Private Ryan, the carnage is
unbelievable. Bearing that in mind, you will be amazed at how long a scrawny
consumptive poet can cling on to life. Moreover, you will be amazed that it's
only an hour and fifty, feels like weeks.
Maybe, just maybe, you are interested in Keats, costume drama, tragic self-
obstructing love affairs, and uncomfortable pauses. In which case, you might
see some value in all this. Otherwise, no.