“Brideshead Revisited” is about a man who hungers for so much yet gains so little. Part of the problem is the number of phases he goes through, which tells us he doesn’t really know what he wants. The film itself has the same problem to a lesser degree, meaning I liked the film enough to recommend it. Still, it’s not the sweeping historical drama it wanted to be; it goes through various phases, focusing intently on one subject before nonchalantly switching to another, virtually neglecting everything that came before. Maybe the filmmakers were a little too ambitious trying to adapt Evelyn Waugh’s original novel. Or maybe the 1981 miniseries weighed heavily on everyone’s minds. Whatever the case, this new film adaptation works wonderfully as a character study but misses the mark as an engaging story of love, friendship, and faith. It essentially hungers for too much.

This is not a bad film, mind you. To be perfectly honest, I was fascinated by the story, and the bravery of the filmmakers to tackle controversial subject matter was often times compelling. Mostly taking place in pre-World War II England, “Brideshead Revisited” tells the story of Charles Ryder (Matthew Goode), an artist who becomes involved--at times blissfully, at times painfully--with a family of wealth and distinction. His reasons are fairly obvious: not only did his own family have no social stature, his mother also died when he was just a boy, leaving him with a father who took absolutely no interest in him. This is made perfectly clear when Charles leaves for his first semester at Oxford; his father’s goodbye is cold and concise, and as he sips away at spoonfuls of soup, we distinctly hear an off-putting air of sarcasm in his voice.

Charles calmly carries his resentment through his first day on campus. Then he gets acquainted with Sebastian Flyte (Ben Whishaw), who feels awful for drunkenly vomiting in Charles’ dorm after a night of partying. When the two officially meet, we immediately feel the sexual tension between them, tension that gets more and more palpable as their friendship gets deeper. While it’s clear that Sebastian longs for a romantic relationship, it’s not so clear how Charles feels. At least, it isn’t at first; he never considers Sebastian as anything other than a friend, and when they kiss under the influence of wine, Charles doesn’t seem interested in returning the favor. But he doesn’t seem shocked or repulsed by it, either, so it’s quite possible that he’s willingly experimenting, as if he were going through a homosexual phase.

But then Charles begins inquiring about Sebastian’s family, and that’s when everything starts changing. Sebastian reluctantly drives Charles to Brideshead, where Sebastian’s family has been living for quite some time. While the audience feels intimidated by the size and grandeur of Brideshead, Charles is immediately captivated by it, and as the story progresses, we can sense his desire to physically and emotionally claim it as his own. The implication is that it’s a home you’re unwilling to leave, despite being unable to stay--an emotional and spiritual prison, much like Manderly from “Rebecca” or Xanadu from “Citizen Kane.” Naturally, Sebastian hates everything about his childhood home, and that largely has to do with being raised by a devoutly Catholic mother. Indeed, Lady Marchmain (Emma Thompson), takes her faith far too seriously, quietly demanding that her children follow her every lead in matters of God. As she plainly states, “Happiness isn’t important in this lifetime; what is important is happiness in the hereafter.” This creates tension between her and Charles, an outspoken Atheist.

And this brings me to Sebastian’s sister, Julia (Hayley Atwell), a young woman whose mysterious, aloof demeanor instantly piques Charles’ interest. He attempts to show his feelings for her during a family trip to Venice, but for the time being, it’s a hopeless situation; despite the fact that Julia has been raised to feel ashamed about everything she does, despite a longing to defy her mother, she feels duty-bound to go along with her mother’s wishes and marry a Catholic man. Worse still, Charles’ growing love for Julia damages her family. This is especially true of Sebastian, whose abandonment and relationship issues drive him deeper and deeper into alcoholism. It isn’t long before he exits the story proper, and while I won’t say how this happens, I will say that his exit felt both rushed and unresolved. It would be too much to have wanted everything tied up in a neat little package, but I would have appreciated some sense of finality.

I can say the same thing about most of the film’s subplots, which have a tendency to meander before coming to an abrupt end. At a certain point, the story flashes forward four years, with another six to go before it comes to an end. Are we only supposed to guess what went on during that time? To be fair, a few key plot points are alluded to--some are even resolved. But there are many other details left unexplained. Who exactly is Celia (Anna Madeley), and how did her relationship with Charles develop? When did Charles become a captain in the British Army? Why did Brideshead become an army station during World War II? There are moments when “Brideshead Revisited” actually feels like a condensed adaptation of a novel. On the same token, there are moments when the story transcends its limitations and connects with the audience. The most fascinating thing about this story is Charles Ryder, whose guilt is second only to his unquenchable thirst for all that isn’t his. If the story doesn’t make this movie worth seeing, then this character does.

- Chris Pandolfi