Indisputable talent. Unintended repression. Profound longing. Heartbreaking tragedy. The relatively brief life of Jacqueline du Pré (1945-1987) featured all the elements of a two-tissue Sunday afternoon weepie. That's more or less what you get with 1998's Hilary and Jackie, though screenwriter Frank Cottrell-Boyce and director Anand Tucker try to make it stand out from the rest of its boilerplate biopic kin.

Hilary and Jackie charts the main events of du Pré's life from childhood to death, but it makes a point of underlining its subjectivity. The first half of the film is told from the point of view of du Pré's older sister Hilary (Rachel Griffiths). Both girls were pushed in their musical endeavours from a young age by their parents (Celia Imrie and Charles Dance), though Hilary's talents as a flautist were soon outshone by the profound emotionality of Jacqueline's (Emily Watson) cello technique. Cottrell-Boyce's script ably captures that particularly British brand of upwardly mobile politesse that confines people to expected roles, even when their stars shine brighter than any expectations.

As Jacqueline's star continues to rise, Hilary settles for a life of content domesticity with her charming husband Christopher ‘Kiffer' Finzi (David Morrissey), though their happiness is threatened by Jacqueline's erratic behaviour. Her quick marriage to piano virtuoso Daniel Barenboim (James Frain) and her newfound liberality are portrayed in ways that were questioned by friends of du Pré, though Hilary and her brother Piers approved of the film, and their memoir is the source text. These plot developments give Hilary and Jackie an edge over comparable biopics, but as the film goes on, it becomes clear that edge is largely surface-level.

The second half of Hilary and Jackie loses some of its subjectivity, as the focus shifts from Hilary's point of view to Jackie's. As the famed cellist begins suffering the symptoms of multiple sclerosis, an unfortunate inevitability creeps into the film, and it becomes another ‘rise and fall' narrative by default, with the debilitating illness demanding audience emotional investment. Structurally, this is as manipulative as any ‘true story' TV movie, though Tucker does his utmost to elevate the film beyond these narrative limits.

As Jacqueline's condition begins to deteriorate, he shoots her performances from unusual angles and with distorted sound design to reflect her difficulty in playing. The film takes on a more theatrical look as it goes on, with cinematographer David Johnson and production designer Alice Normington accentuating Jacqueline's fragmenting mental state through garish colours and stagey lighting schemes.

Despite the visual tics brought to bear, a biopic ultimately lives or dies on its casting, and Hilary and Jackie is powered by two terrific leads. Griffiths is tremendous as the elder du Pré, investing her with a determination that belies her choice of a quieter life. Meanwhile, as Jacqueline, Watson displays more of the blend of fearlessness and raw emotion she brought to Breaking The Waves. A scene in which the wheelchair-bound Jacqueline breaks down while listening to a recording of her playing her signature piece, the Adagio from Elgar's Cello Concerto, is devastating. Their performances, both nominated for Academy Awards, are the film's highlight.

This new Blu-ray re-release showcases the talent at work in front of and behind the camera on Hilary and Jackie, but it also underlines how difficult it is to transcend the tropes that have been baked into filmed true stories since the inception of cinema itself. While the script's structural gambit is just enough to differentiate it, the direction and performances end up doing much of the heavy lifting.

Blu-Ray special features:

Restored in 2K and presented in High Definition
Newly recorded audio commentary by dramatist, composer and author, Neil Brand
Avec Sonia Wieder-Atherton (2003, 52 mins): a celebration of cellist Sonia Wieder-Atherton, showing her artistry as she plays and discusses her life in music
Instruments of the Orchestra (1946, 18 mins): Sir Malcolm Sargent presents, conducts and comments on the performance of the different instruments of the London Symphony Orchestra in this film by Muir Mathieson
Selected Tales from Hoffnung (1964, 21 mins total): three animations from Halas and Batchelor's Tales from Hoffnung series based on the drawings of artist, comic, and raconteur, Gerard Hoffnung
Our Magazine No 2 (1952, 10 mins): this edition of the CFF newsreel includes a rousing number by the London Fields Primary School Percussion Band
Trailer
First pressing only: Illustrated booklet with new writing on the film and on Avec Sonia Wieder-Atherton by Rachel Pronger and writing on the extras by Jez Stewart, Katy McGahan and Vic Pratt