There's something Shakespearean about "Winter's Tale." Perhaps it's the way everyone talks in British or Irish accents, faked or genuine; or how the emotions seem to fester in the depths of a hot caldron; or the grandiose gestures and sweeping statements that are often delivered out of context and leave you stranded in a marshland of question marks.
"Winter's Tale" was adapted from a much-loved 1983 novel by Mark Helprin but by many accounts director Akiva Goldsman (who also penned the screenplay) took to the original with a butcher's knife, rendering the story unrecognizable. I can't judge, having not read the novel, but the story does seem convoluted, chaotic and dense with unnecessary ingredients. Having said that, it's still a treat to look at — the backdrop being New York City in the early 20th century, with its arctic lights, stone-paved streets, and Colin Farrell looking appropriately vintage-attired (though modern-day Brooklyn hipsters dress like that too) strolling the dark streets in hobnailed boots or whatever they're called.
Farrell plays Peter Lake, a world-weary professional thief who rides around on a white steed and charms the socks off young heiress Beverly Penn (Jessica Brown Findlay). She is alone in the mansion that he breaks into, dressed in a fluffy white nightgown with all the windows open in winter because she's has consumption and a high fever. Beverly offers to make Peter a cup of tea, he accepts graciously, and by the time he finishes drinking, they've fallen in love.