Little Voice

Jane Horrocks delivers a show-stopping performance in Little Voice, the kind worthy of the divas she honors. Reprising her stage role, she plays L. V. Hoff, a timid young woman in a coastal English town who only really finds her voice when re-creating the performances of Shirley Bassey, Judy Garland, and Edith Piaf. Astonishingly, every voice really belongs to Horrocks, who does dead-on impersonations of the singers in L. V.'s repertoire. In a live theater setting, you can imagine Horrocks' performance being absolutely electrifying; even on screen, her transformation from Minnie Mouse to mighty mouth is the stuff of grand theater. It doesn't take long, however, to realize that Little Voice is built entirely around Horrocks' admittedly impressive party trick. Once her centerpiece performance ends, the film starts working desperately merely to tie up loose ends: L. V.'s infatuation with the memory of her dead father; her relationship with her boozy, blowsy mother (scenery-shredding Oscar nominee Brenda Blethyn); her connection with an equally shy telephone technician (Ewan McGregor). Every character around L. V. becomes little more than an impediment to her finally spreading her wings (and don't think that bird metaphors aren't beaten to an ugly death here). The film's eccentric characters, while stagey, all have their goofy appeal, and the story allows plenty of time for the characters and their relationships to develop before L. V. takes the stage. Then comes the big performance, and it becomes clear that everyone else was just part of the warm-up act. Horrocks is truly wonderful in this mildly diverting drama, but I didn't expect an ensemble tale to turn into a one-woman show of "Judymania." Optional. (S. Renshaw)