Lee

An engaging and at times gritty tribute to a multifaceted pioneer, Lee is significantly more conventional than its subject.

This polished biopic of influential American war photographer Lee Miller is an evocative yet uneven portrait that struggles to dig beneath the surface when probing motives for her tenacity and determination to break barriers.

The story begins with a conversation between an older Lee (Kate Winslet) and a journalist (Josh O’Connor), in which she tries to downplay her accomplishments. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing,” she reasons. “They’re just pictures.”

However, her life was about much more than her iconic photos, as we learn when being taken back to late 1930s France, where her carefree life as a model is about to be shaken by impending war.

Lee relocates to London with artist Roland (Alexader Skarsgard) to continue their romantic relationship, and with hopes of landing a photography job with a magazine editor (Andrea Riseborough).

Yet while the publication only wants photos of the conflict away from the battlefield, Lee knows the more powerful images are along the front lines. Battling gender biases, she eventually becomes embedded with Allied troops alongside a fellow photojournalist (Andy Samberg) who becomes a confidant.

While witnessing Nazi atrocities firsthand, Lee finds a purpose much different and larger than what she thought, which amplifies her courage, defiance, and fiercely independent mindset.

You can see why the film has been a passion project championed by Winslet, whose fully committed performance enables her to slide seamlessly between a young ingenue and a war-weary cynic, all while balancing Lee’s internal strengths and vulnerabilities.

She’s a woman of fascinating contradictions — free-spirited and cautiously guarded, but also fiercely outspoken and casually deflective.

The film is visually striking, as you might expect from the feature directorial debut of acclaimed cinematographer Ellen Kuras (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind), vividly depicting Holocaust horrors through a fresh set of eyes — or lenses, in this case.

The screenplay, based on a biography by Miller’s son Antony Penrose, is light on sociopolitical context, and its flashback-laden framing device feels superfluous, even when considering its narrative justification.

At least Lee should help her work endure, even if in a broader sense it gives an intriguing life story a formulaic focus.

Rated R, 117 minutes.