Long journey of a glam queen contains some whimsical moments.
In a collectively correct world, there is perhaps no better place for an orphaned child to be dropped off than on the steps of a place of worship – a place where pastors of the Catholic Church preach to a god that created one image of man. Neil Jordan’s Breakfast on Pluto sort of pulls the rug from underneath as it plays with the definition of man and how it is to be in the wrong or right place.
Almost fittingly this survivor’s tale (with a wink to the Gloria Gaynor’s I Will Survive era of the 70’s and a full-equipped layered soundtrack) is centered around a heroine or hero surnamed “Kitten†– if ever a person had 9 lives then this person seems to take in all the abuse that IRA-friendly and London thug beautified surroundings have to offer. With a certain Hedwig and the Angry Inch androgynous play with how the internal deals with the external, Neil Jordan’s marathon adaptation Patrick McCabe’s novel has some difficulties in building a momentum that lasts throughout.
Chaptered like a novel with 36 chapters in all, Cillian Murphy’s portrayal of social misfit with a quest for a mommie and search for identity actually gets more involving with time – perhaps the formula of the formative years in adulthood for a delinquent cross dresser in love with love could have been shortened in the script stage. Not to say that Jordan’s visual interpretation of the novel is off-putting, but 2 and one half hours to get from point A to point B and then full circle might seem like a big time investment even for art house folk.
A supporting cast of names (Neeson & Rea) in interesting character roles make for delightful pit stops along the way as do the multiple locations from an Amsterdam peep-hole to the crevices of some bad spots in London. Some fine compositions of the frame make this an enjoyable watch but it’s the film’s soft-landing climax where Mrs. Patrick Braden doesn’t seek out the entire truth about her mother that sits especially well as a film’s conclusion – acting as a sort of allegory for how the audience comes to interpret the soft-spoken, glam queen. Sometimes its best not to know. Breakfast on Pluto is less addictive as say, Jordan’s adaptation of another McCabe novel, 1996’s The Butcher Boy.
