I have long admired Timothy Spall as an actor, but I left Mr. Turner thinking “what the fuck was that shit?!” The last hour and a half of the film, he pretty much just grunts, not that he had much to say in the first hour. His JMW Turner is little more than a revolting little troll – grunting, snorting, sputtering, scowling, groping women, eating pig’s heads, and callously ignoring his family. Maybe it’s all true and maybe it isn’t, but regardless, what is the point of being dragged through this grim spectacle? Is there nothing to conclude about JMW Turner other than he was some kind of glorified ape?

Mr. Turner is not all bad, I suppose. The character of Sophia Booth, who Turner kind of lives with in his later years, is a warm and likable character, very fun to watch, brought to life by an excellent performance from the little-known Marion Bailey. And even though the film can’t be bothered to say one interesting thing about Turner’s art, the few scenes of him unorthodoxly plying his craft are pretty fun to watch. But aside from this the film is quite dull, and more than a bit depressing.

I’ve simply had it with Mike Leigh, a filmmaker who I feel has gone off the deep end, never to return. I’ve been nurturing this soft spot for him based on the magnificent Secrets and Lies and the delightful Topsy Turvy. But those films are fifteen years old now, and his recent work suggests an unhealthy preoccupation with death, decay, insanity, ugliness, and regret, a preoccupation which is not counterbalanced by anything. His films have obviously become a dumping ground for his increasingly tortured psyche. I can’t imagine who enjoys them at this point.

If you love JMW Turner’s paintings, and feel compelled to see this movie, I’m not exactly sure what to tell you. Don’t expect any insights into his art, and don’t expect any insights into his character. The man was an ape, period! There, I’ve saved you $15.

If you feel compelled to see this because you want to appreciate JMW Turner’s art, just forget it.