I saw it just today and I confess,
That having had today four teeth removed
I spent the day with films and never moved.
Of all the shows I saw, this was the best,
Though if you’re (rightly) loath to be impressed
By my opinions, drugged-up and fatigued,
I’ve reasons that I thought you’d be intrigued:
The dialogue, which flows like seven seas,
Is served in rhyming couplets, much like these,
With iambs counting five in every line.
Delivering the lines, it sounds divine:
The actors speak like poets, to a word;
Pedantic sing-song speech is never heard.
The themes it treats are numerous and strange—
There’s death and sex and carpe-diem change—
But love is at the center of the tale:
The confidence that passion can prevail,
The perfect beauty of the spoken word,
The conflict of who will and won’t be heard,
And silent cleaning girls who, while they cleanse
Send piercing gazes through the camera lens
(Including one whose speech bookends the show,
Whom Moaning Myrtle's Potter fans will know).
In short: O fans of pentametric verse!
All films, compared with this, seem much the worse.
Its muselike powers I can answer to;
It moved me to perhaps move all of you
To see a movie willing to be art,
To thrill the ear, illuminate the heart.
And does it, in its goal, meet with success?
My answer is, of course, a fervent Yes.