On Chesil Beach
"Sexual intercourse began
In nineteen sixty-three
(which was rather late for me) -
Between the end of the Chatterley ban
And the Beatles' first LP."
I thought of those lines while watching Dominic Cooke's On Chesil Beach, an adaptation of Ian McEwan's novel, about the worst wedding night you can imagine. It is set in 1962, and is an advertisement for couples to try having sex before they get married, so any unpleasant surprises don't happen.
Edward (Billy Howle) and Florence (Saoirse Ronan) have just married and are honeymooning by the sea. They are both nervously awaiting the big moment, and Ronan is particularly nervous, as she has shown throughout their relationship that she's not very touchy-feely. Both are virgins.
As this scene unfolds, flashbacks to the beginning of their relationship show them as opposites. She is from the upper class and the city, loving classical music (she has begun a string quartet in college, much as someone might start a rock band). Howle loves rock and roll, grew up in the country (Ronan's mother refers to him a "country bumpkin") and always looks unkempt. But they love each other deeply, and the two actors show it. But...
I won't spoil the surprise but suffice it to say that their night doesn't end well. Both of them, being people of their times, react badly, and we see how one moment can change a lifetime. Their are two scenes that take place years later, which probably work better in the book.
McEwan wrote the adaptation himself, and it has some lovely dialogue--Ronan calls Chuck Berry "merry," and at the climax there is a long scene of the two of them hashing things out on the beach. You don't see scenes like that, fixed in one place between just two people, very often. Both actors are good, but Ronan is cementing her reputation as one of the best young actors working today--her eyes tell stories that her lips don't say.
If only this couple had married in 1964, after the Beatles' first LP. It might have worked out better.
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