Review:
"The Choral"
Release Date: Jan. 16, 2026 Rating: R Running Time: 113 minutes During troubled days, especially at a time of war, music can and does temporarily soothe the aching heart and the disquieted soul. And, of course, music that addresses and dissects contemporary concerns in its own way can challenge the mind, unmade or otherwise. With the Nicholas Hytner-directed The Choral, Alan Bennett—long one of England’s most recognizable and celebrated populist film, TV, and stage writers—turns back the clock to 1916 to examine how a small Yorkshire community grapples with the human cost of World War I through sacred music. At the height of the so-called Great War, a choral group holds auditions for its performance of Johann Sebastian Bach’s St Matthew Passion. It’s hard enough to find singers, given that most of the local men of age are on the frontlines. But when the choirmaster enlists in the army, the board has no choice but to replace him with Dr. Henry Guthrie (Ralph Fiennes). An acclaimed choirmaster, Guthrie’s love and admiration for Germany—where he once lived and worked—makes him a controversial choice. So much so that the choral group drops St Matthew Passion due to Bach being German and instead selects The Dream of Gerontius by Edward Elgar, the English composer of “Land of Hope and Glory.” With the fighting very much on everyone’s mind, Guthrie and his singers gradually transform Gerontius from an oratorio focused on an old man’s journey through the afterlife to an operetta that makes deliberate and poignant commentary about the sacrifice made by young men sent to war. Bennett rarely writes with much an edge, but that doesn’t make his observations about the English way of life—then and now—any less relevant or cogent. Bennett employs World War I to examine in forthright fashion the cost of war from the viewpoint of a small community that has loss many of its young people in battle. The Choral isn’t anti-war, despite a subplot involving a conscientious objector, but it does question the decisions made by military leaders and the viewpoint that the young and the able are expendable in the name of patriotic duty. To this end, Bennett also uses the choral group as a microcosm of the English class system, with the entitled board members and patrons of the arts often at odds with the working men and women who just want to sing to escape from the daily drudgery of life. “A choral society shouldn’t mirror the social order. It should transcend it,” says Guthrie. A noble sentiment but Bennett—the son of a butcher but the beneficiary of an Oxford education—knows matter and does not shy away from ridiculing the ruling class for its dismissive attitude toward the common person. (That said, Bennett also acknowledges that the rich and the powerful can and should grieve in the same way as the working class.) This also leads into frank discussions about ownership of the arts. Is the creator’s vision absolute? What far should a performer go when reinterpreting a work of art? What say should a benefactor of the arts have in its creation and interpretation/reinterpretation? All good questions, which lead to Guthrie’s telling retort when Elgar balks at Guthrie’s reworking of Gerontius: “Art comes out of art.” As for Bennett, director Nicholas Hytner remains one of the best interpreter of his work across all mediums, including 1994’s historical drama The Madness of King George, three episodes of 2020 TV miniseries Talking Heads, and the stage productions of The Lady in the Van and The History Boys (which he also adapted as feature films). Hytner’s direction is simple and elegant, drawing power from Bennett’s wise and witty dialogue and the heartfelt performances given by the ensemble cast led by Ralph Fiennes. An experienced opera producer, Hytner stages the threadbare climatic production of Gerontius with emotional gravitas, although the selected excerpts sadly run too brief. If Hytner has trouble tying up the multiple subplots and romantic storylines stemming from within the choral group, it is a function of Bennett trying to cram too much into a script that already has much on its mind. (Unfortunately, the exploration of Guthrie’s sexuality—as well as that of his pianist, who clearly adores him—is oddly underdeveloped by Bennett. He seems content to take a “don’t ask, don’t tell” approach to the theme of homosexuality in The Choral) At the heart of The Choral is Ralph Fiennes, who continues the sterling work he has done this decade, from The Menu to Conclave to the pair of 28 Years Later sequels (ironically, The Choral opens in Austin the same day as 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple but not as wide). Fiennes is a commanding presence as Guthrie, a man committed to the purity of art and firm in his belief that culture is what makes a society what it is, for better or for worse. Fiennes initially portrays Guthrie as passionate but firm and inflexible. But as The Choral challenges Guthrie as both man and artist, Fiennes finds in Guthrie not just a willingness to collaborate with others but the need to accept other visions of what art can be and what it should say. The Choral is as much a journey of discovery for Guthrie as it is a cathartic experience for the singers impacted by the war. Bennett reaffirms music as an unrivaled communal experience. An evening of music may not solve the world’s problems, but as The Choral puts forth, it can transport us away from our individual and shared troubles for a few hours at a time—or make us rethink what concerns us—like no other artform can. Posted: Jan. 14, 2026. Web sites: https://www.sonyclassics.com/film/thechoral/ https://www.sonypictures.com/movies/thechoral |
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