Mr Turner; a beautiful film of an ugly man

The cinema was full on Sunday evening, of the opening weekend; probably in response to brilliant reviews. I was keen to learn about this painter of light, clouds, storms and mist who broke with tradition, but also managed great fame and fortune in his lifetime. So it seems that William Turner was born into an ordinary working class family, where his mother was mad and his father doted on his son. But it soon became apparent that this artistic genius was oblivious to his wife and children, used women to meet his own needs and was fiercely competitive in the traditional art circles of the time. Turner was convincly played by Timothy Spall, as a growling, rotund and callous man. In contrast, every scene in the film was aesthetically beautiful, with early and late sunlight glowing gold and amber on the surrounding countryside, docks and city streets. I think it was quite an artists' film, with many of his masterpieces recognisable in their evolving and final forms. It was fun to see other contemporary artists such as Constable in the Royal Academy scenes. But the film was a long and largely disjointed set of scenes, which lacked a common narrative across time.