I was looking forward to a celebration of the accomplishments of an exceptional Nobel-winning 19th century female scientist and instead found myself saddled with a depressing and startlingly edited mess of a movie which spliced segments of other (ostensibly, anyway) movies from entirely different periods into it, for no apparent reason. Are we to infer that scientists are responsible for their discoveries and the inventions spun from them? Or that, inadvertently sick of radioactive poisoning, the simultaneously celebrated and reviled discoverer somehow foresaw the terrifying consequences of her work? It made no sense to show the horrific depiction of Hiroshima in 1945 in a clumsy attempt to create context with work done in Paris between 1893 and 1927, and it was both tasteless and jarring to attempt such a thing. And how are we supposed to put the little boy in Cleveland receiving cutting edge radiation therapy for his tumour into context, too? Then the overlapping scene from 19th century Paris to late 20th century Chernobyl was so clumsy as to be worthy of the over-reach of a first-year film student. The overall result was that it was almost impossible to retain any sense of wonder over the unusually equitable partnership and marriage of Pierre and Marie Curie with such shenanigans inter- and undercutting it, and the crass psychological explanation of Marie's motivation formed by the early death of her mother detracted from her remarkable focus and drive. The discussion between the reunited couple in apparition form at the very end was depicted touchingly, but almost made one want to gag with its ludicrous effort to tie together any number of loose ends. Pass. And please, at some point in the not-too-distant future, someone make another movie that is actually about the remarkable partnership between Pierre and Marie Curie!
Review of Radioactive
