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Florence Foster Jenkins: Movie (terrible)

Meryl Streep
Hugh Grant

Streep plays FFJ, an art patron who believes she can sing. Hugh Grant is her doting, enabling husband who hides the truth. She ends up croaking through a performance at Carnegie Hall. We're supposed to think that even though she's terrible, there's something grand about her.

Didn't work for me.  If you're rich, people protect you and shield you, and that's good?  Hugh Grant bribes reviewers, and that's good?  The one reviewer who pans her is portrayed as bad--a spoil sport.  Made no sense.

FFJ contracted syphilis from her first husband, so there's pathos there. Hugh Grant has an affair that FFJ sort of knows about, but his heart is really with her.

Well acted I guess, but a hopeless muddle of a screenplay that avoids everything interesting about the story.

(I'm tired of Meryl Streep, but like Hugh Grant.)

1/2 star

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