In “The Personal History of David Copperfield,” we’re supposed to believe that 19th Century London. a time of great racism and diminishing returns for anyone who wasn’t white, could have Dev Patel’s tramp rising from impoverished orphan to hot-as-shit Victorian writer in the blink-of-an-eye. The book’s original questioning of Victorian values and general social attitudes have been largely sidelined for a conventional rise-and-fall story, albeit beautifully shot in wide lens by Zac Nicholson. Of course, complaining about the mid-1800s story not having a white Anglo European cast might irk some the wrong way. I don’t mean to imply inclusive casting is a bad thing. Indeed, it’s become one of the most important and revelatory movements in the film industry this century. But letting bygones be bygones, Charles Dickens’ original vision when he released ‘David Copperfield,’ that of the social class struggles in Victorian England, does appear to be delivered in historically naive fashion in the hands of Iannucci.
There are moments of comic relief, especially whenever Hugh Laurie appears on-screen as the sweet-natured, but neurotic Mr. Dick. In fact, Laurie ends up being one of the few actors who takes advantage of the dynamics being inverted through tone by Iannucci, ditto Peter Capaldi as Micawber’s circus Fagin. They know the farcical nature of Dickens quite well and they just run with it by stealing the show. The colorblind casting is rather odd; the film never even asks us to question Patel’s lineage, despite his parents being as white as can be on both sides. However, with little known about him, Iannucci would rather strip the substance of Dickens’ working-class rooting in favor of jokes. Copperfield’s background story ends up being all-too meaningless to the energetic, free-for-all narrative, which renders this joke-a-minute farce filled with gimmickry, a notch below what it could have been. One does wonder if a film such as this one would have benefited more on the small screen, where the fantastical 19th Century London sets could have been used for better and more elaborate world-building. Instead, we get a sharp-tongued, speedy movie that never takes its subject matter as seriously as it should, and, given the themes and social constructs of the original novel, Dickens’ words and passion get bogged down by self-congratulatory artistry. [C] Contribute Hire me

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