The Theory of Everything, the story of Stephen Hawking (Eddie Redmayne) and his relationship with his first wife Jane (Felicity Jones), as well as his early battles with motor-neurone disease. When you place a director of documentaries in charge of a full-blown cinematic biopic, worries over the episodic feel or the predictability of the true story are always there. However, James Marsh has – to a large extent – succeeded in putting those fears to rest in, the story of Stephen Hawking (Eddie Redmayne) and his relationship with his first wife Jane (Felicity Jones), as well as his early battles with motor-neurone disease.





is Stephen Hawking. His portrayal of the great man is subtle, carefully considered, and painfully honest. The usual tropes of stopping every five minutes to explain the time setting or using Basil Exposition to keep the audience up to date are gone, replaced with a flowing, properly filmic narrative. We begin with Stephen at Trinity Hall in Cambridge, exploring his meeting with Jane and his early advances in physics which – while capably captured – are not the most interesting part of the film. Redmayne is given his real chance to shine when the effects of Hawking’s disease begin to worsen and he is confined forever to a wheelchair. It’s a truly transformative performance, a rare occasion when the following line (spoken in a stereotypical trailer narrator voice) is more than justified: Eddie RedmayneStephen Hawking. His portrayal of the great man is subtle, carefully considered, and painfully honest.









Felicity Jones simply glows as Jane, making the journey from endearingly precautious in the early years to steadfast and strained as challenge after challenge come knocking. The supporting cast is a hodgepodge of British talent, with Harry Lloyd growing into his role as the narrative progresses whilst David Thewlis pops up occasionally to be his usual charming self. Everyone involved gives it their all and their combined talent is what makes the balance of humour and darkness really work: you’ll find no mawkish sentimentality here.





The Theory of Everything is ultimately a celebration of two lives lived to the full no matter what. It is an honest piece that gives both parties their due without feeling the need to worship at the feet – or wheels – of either. The story itself does not emerge entirely unscathed: the cinematography is occasionally prone to TV-movie style sheen (an odd choice considering the increasingly painful subject matter) and Jóhann Jóhannsson’s musical score sounds like the very definition of Oscar-bait. But in the grand scale of the film, none of this leaves a sizeable blemish: whatever else may be wrong with it,is ultimately a celebration of two lives lived to the full no matter what. It is an honest piece that gives both parties their due without feeling the need to worship at the feet – or wheels – of either.





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