Apparently when a woman named Geraldine Flower died in 2019, her daughter found a suitcase full of love letters in her London flat. Reading these letters reportedly inspired Icelandic pop singer Emilíana Torrini to record an entire album inspired by them. That album has now been performed as a film, interspersed with dramatic readings of some of the letters by a range of artists including Richard Ayoade and Nick Cave. There is a bit of theatre thrown in as well, and a bit of interpretive dance.

Honestly I’m not sure what to make of The Extraordinary Miss Flower, a 2024 arthouse combination of musical, promo video, and performance work directed by Iain Forsyth and Jane Pollard. If I had found its various segments while exploring a contemporary art gallery I guess I would have been fascinated. Had I see it performed live in a fringe festival I would have been more inclined to enjoy it. Presented on DVD and framed alongside motion pictures and documentaries, I am not sure that it works. It feels rather forced. At times it actively grates on the nerves. At other times it impresses, but also makes its own case that it’s being delivered in the wrong medium.

It is a film made by and filled with talented, interesting people – but are they being filled into the wrong thing?

Torrini is an exceptional talent, but I do feel her best work lies 20 years in the past, and not in this thinly conceived concept album. The compositions do not take advantage of her voice’s strengths. There is a marked lack of depth to the arrangements, without any individual piece standing out or making a case for its inclusion. When Torrini is talking and not singing, she is a captivating host for exploring the various anonymous letters. When she does sing, it all feels like the actual film has gone for a commercial break.

Much more interesting are the letters themselves: some artful, others heartfelt, still more cringe-inducing. They do, however, all feel real and are well-performed by a range of very watchable talent. Of course, whether they are real or not is up for debate. We only really have Emiliana Torrini’s word for it.

There is some nice photography and design scattered through the film, and a series of performance pieces by Caroline Catz goes a long way in fleshing and illuminating just who received all of these gushing, passionate missives. It is clear the theatre kids are going to like it, and in its best moments it is rather enjoyable. It is also hopelessly self-indulgent, and more than a little pretentious. Some viewers will likely adore its creativity and joie de vivre. Others will be repelled by the artificiality. Whoever is left in-between is going to look on with bemusement.