Before seeing “Mr. Turner,” written and directed by Mike Leigh, it would be wise to get some background information on JMW Turner, the great British painter who transformed seascapes into ephemeral swirls of impressionistic light and color decades before impressionism became a movement. In the movie, Turner is played by Timothy Spall who creates a persona not unlike the hunchback of Notre Dame – a man whose default facial expression is a tight-lipped scowl, underscored by frequent grunts and inappropriate gropes. Though he wears a top hat and is clearly an acclaimed member of the Royal Academy, it’s hard for his peers and the audience to know what to make of his behavior. Does he suffer from Tourettes syndrome or some personality disorder? What accounts for his attractiveness to the kind and caring Mrs. Booth who doesn’t know that he is the famous painter until well into their relationship? Leigh does little to try to explain Turner’s peculiarities, wanting us to accept him at face value – an eccentric genius and a riddle for which there is no answer.
We discover halfway through the film that the artist who claims to have no children does indeed have a living daughter and one who has just died yet there is no filial sentiment aroused by either nor any compassion for the grieving woman who bore them. Lest we suspect that he is someone who can’t form emotional connections, we see his deep attachment to the elderly father whom he still calls “daddy” and whom he respects and adores. Later, we see the domestic tranquility of his secret life with Mrs. Booth but it’s an enigmatic contrast to his ongoing brutal relationship with his awkward housekeeper, almost his female counterpart.