I found it frustrating trying to read Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf as I am not particularly fond of her writing. Add to this I didn't care for the style of the Dalloway novel, a work I never did finish. Though I am an insane admirer of the great Vanessa Redgrave, the movie also turned out to be a slice of life to which I could not adapt. No one would be foolish enough to berate poor Virginia Woolfe and her literary accomplishments, but not everything is meant for everybody. On a purely cerebral level, I absolutely agree that both novel and film are extremely important works of art, Mrs. Dalloway coming at a time Virginia Woolfe was floundering. It was a tremendous triumph. Unfortunately her mental state was too precarious, ultimately committing suicide at a relatively young age as was depicted in the film, The Hours even though her almost every move was watched and scrutinized. I have great empathy for Mrs. Woolf as I suffer from similar problems she simply could not deal with. She truly was in mental agony during a great portion of her adult life. It was all so terrible! I'm almost ashamed to rate the film a four.
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