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Showing posts with label Ritzy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ritzy. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
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‘Silver Linings Playbook’ is a film about mental illness. We follow the story of Pat (Bradley Cooper), sufferer of a bipolar disorder. As the film opens he's being released from a state mental institution after serving a sentence for violently beating someone half to death. He suffers from intense mood swings, turning on a knife edge from happy and upbeat to depressive and violent.
David O. Russell has created a film that pulls itself in two directions at once. It’s obviously striving to present an accurate and sympathetic view of various types of mental disorder but is shackled to the conventions of the romantic comedy. These two ‘genres’ (if ‘mental illness film’ is really a genre) sit uneasily together.
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| Tiffany (Jennifer Lawrence) and Pat (Bradley Cooper) |
The narrative shows us Pat’s attempts to conquer his condition and reintegrate himself into a society that’s suspicious and scared of him. They’re scared of him with good reason though, he lacks a filter on his words and actions, frequently acting inappropriately and with no empathy for how he might come across to others. While he’s constantly feeling some kind of extreme emotion, he entirely lacks the apparatus to identify how he’s affecting those around him. He’ll burst into his parent’s bedroom late at night to rant about Ernest Hemingway and throw a book through the window, or run up and hug a visibly frightened ex-colleague.
Pat is not the most likeable filmic hero. Throughout the film he operates under the illusion that he’s going to get his marriage back together, which everyone around him can immediately tell is not going to happen. People try to let him down gently and get him to see that his wife probably isn’t coming back. He labours under the illusion that their love is unbreakable, even after she’s had an affair and he’s nearly beaten a man to death in front of her.
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| Pat's parents, Dolores (Jacki Weaver) and Pat Sr. (Robert De Niro) |
Into this tangled world comes the equally complicated Tiffany (Jennifer Lawrence). She’s a recent widow and ever since her husband died has been undergoing an alienating nymphomania. To the obvious disgust and embarrassment of her family she’s been having sex with nearly everybody she comes across. It’s gotten to the point where she’s been fired from her job for sleeping with everyone in the office. So can these two damaged people come together and help each other with their problems?
But it’s not just our two leads that are suffering psychic pains. One of the points the film makes is that the dividing line between those that are diagnosed mentally atypical and those that appear to lead normal lives is blurred. Nearly every character in the film appears to be dealing with some kind of problem, be it an obsessive compulsive disorder, violent fits of rage or a hidden depression. Russell is much more sympathetic to those like Pat and Tiffany who are honest enough to recognise their own problems and has a deep respect for the methods they use to try and fix themselves.
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| also Chris Tucker is in this film. |
Both Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence have raging internal storms constantly bubbling behind their performances. They’re portraying people that are not only volatile, but to some degree also have the knowledge that they can ‘get away with it’. The two have both been damaged in some way, so both have an 'excuse' for their actions. One of Cooper’s best tactics is to use his wide, bright blue eyes to show Pat's terrifying clearness and confidence in his actions. The disconnect between how sure he is that his course is the right one and what we in the audience know to be true makes him both tragic and fairly frightening. Cooper is confident in a difficult role, and in less skilled hands runs a risk of losing audience sympathy altogether.
Lawrence is a good match for him, her and Cooper bounce off each other realistically and reflexively. She doesn’t have quite as many emotional gears to shift into as he does, but this is more of a function of her character rather than a limitation in her performance. What she does fantastically is the transformation from reserved, cool and collected to towering, violent, frustrated rage. There’s a physical change that comes over her in one scene that’s a marvel to behold, it’s like suddenly there’s a completely different person that’s sprung out of the character.
The world that these two inhabit is as carefully constructed as the two central characters. Due to their mental states, both Pat and Tiffany live and are dependant on their parents. Russell takes the same kind of downbeat look at working class American life as he did in ‘The Fighter’, although with a slightly softer touch. The film takes place in an overcast suburbia, row after row of identical houses, identical streets and nosy neighbours. This endless downtrodden domestic conformity gets to you after a while, but does the job of making our leads stand out like sore thumbs.
It’s clear that everyone involved here is sincere in making a film that aims to educate us about what it is like suffering from or living with a person with a mental disorder. The characters are treated with nothing but dignity, even in their most unsympathetic moments we at least understand why they are doing what they’re doing. Despite this, the film does use the pretty lame cliche of saying ‘maybe the ones who’ve been diagnosed with mental illness are actually the sane ones?’
This film has genuine flashes of complexity, and when it resorts to cliché like this it falls flat. Russell goes some way to justify this by making nearly every other character in the film a bubbling pit of vague symptoms, but this ends up feeling like a clever way to dodge the point. ‘Silver Linings Playbook’ doesn’t exactly glamorise mental illness, but that fact that it propels the central love story means some of the rough edges are necessarily sanded down.
For the vast majority of the running time ‘Silver Linings Playbook’ is a downbeat, bittersweet indie drama. The last quarter of the film feels like it’s been parachuted in from a glossy, conventional romantic comedy. Suddenly these damaged characters that we’ve gotten to know are acting relatively normally, and the focus shifts not onto whether they’re healing mentally, but bizarrely, onto their dancing skills. The argument the film puts forward is that their dancing skills are directly linked to their mental health, but after treading so carefully on this territory for the first 90 minutes it becomes very clumsy, very fast.
It’s a let down. We have it impressed upon us that this is an impossibly complex situation with no easy solutions, but the film takes a tonal swerve, shows us that actually there are easy solutions and ties everything up in a neat little bow. A happy ending and roll credits.
Other criticisms include the fact that this film assumes you have a knowledge of American Football, and specifically know a vague history of the Philadelphia Eagles. Characters repeatedly reference events in the history of this team, which may be common knowledge in the US, but I’ve got no idea what the hell they’re talking about and there’s not enough context to figure it out.
The climax of the film involves a ridiculously complex bet on which all the emotional and financial woes of our characters rest. The set up for this bet is one of the most interminable and confusing scenes I’ve seen in a film lately, and assumes you’ve got a knowledge of both American Football and US betting lingo. There’s a protracted negotiation of ‘points’ on a bet and just when this is decided, the characters begin discussing transforming the already complex bet into a parlay (I didn’t know what this was). To be fair they include a clumsy bit of exposition after the scene is over that translates it all into plain English, but it’s too little too late. If the audience is watching the set up to the big climax and they don’t know what the hell anyone is talking about, it saps urgency from the film and replaces it with alienation and confusion.
‘Silver Linings Playbook’ for the most part is an achingly sincere film that clearly cares a great deal about its subject matter. It’s got a solid core of talent and some deftly and sensitively sketched characterisation. But it can’t work out what it wants to be. Does it want to be an serious indie drama about mental illness or a conventional rom-com with two sweet, attractive leads? By trying to do both it doesn’t succeed at either.
‘Silver Linings Playbook’ is on general release from 21st November 2012
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Sunday, June 10, 2012
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'Moonrise Kingdom' is happiness and affirmation in humanity distilled down to 94 minutes and projected onto a screen. It's a laser-guided riposte to the critics of Wes Anderson who moan that he makes the same beautiful but detached film over and over again. Every frame of this film is instantly recognisable as a Wes Anderson film - to the extent that if any director working today in Hollywood can be considered an auteur, it's Anderson.
'Moonrise Kingdom' is set in 1965 and follows the adventures of two 12 year olds, Sam and Suzy, as they attempt to escape a society which has left both of them troubled and miserable. We also follow their parents and the authority figures on the island who are trying to catch them.
It's a common complaint that 'all' Wes Anderson's films feature emotionally stunted adults struggling to get over past psychological injuries. The prime example, from the ur-Wes Anderson film are the three Tenenbaum children from 'The Royal Tenenbaums', but in the same vein we also have the brothers of 'The Darjeeling Limited', Max Fischer and Herman Blume from 'Rushmore' and Bill Murray's reluctant father Steve Zissou in 'The Life Aquatic'.
'Moonrise Kingdom' at first seems like an almost overly direct continuation of these themes. All of the adults in this film are miserable and somehow lost, and on surface inspection our troubled child leads seem to be heading the same way.
Our male lead, Sam Shakusky (Jared Gilman) is a resourceful but somewhat antisocial and unpopular Khaki Scout (a direct analogue for Boy Scouts). As we begin the film he has just 'resigned' from his Khaki Scout troop and escaped into the wilderness with a stolen canoe and supplies. We learn quickly that he is an orphan, and seems to have been bounced from foster home to foster home. For someone who is apparently 'the most unpopular kid' in the Khaki Scouts, he also seems to be the most competent. His uniform is bristling with badges for various achievements, and throughout the film his outdoors skills are consistently portrayed as top notch.
Escaping with Sam is Suzy Bishop (Kara Hayward), 'a very troubled child'. She is the older sister of three young boys and lives with her parents in a very chic island house. She is desperately unhappy, and has a reputation for sudden acts of extreme violence. Her parents do not understand why she is so unhappy, and do not quite understand what to do with her. We are introduced to her from Sam's POV as he escapes backstage during a children's production of Noah's Ark. She is dressed as a raven, and when they meet backstage the two instantly recognise a kindred 'outsider' spirit in the other. Through a series of letters they quickly resolve to run away with each other and escape their various miseries.
On first reading, these two children seem like 'Tenenbaums-to-be'. It is easy to imagine Sam growing up to become Max Fischer, or Suzy to become a Margot Tenenbaum. What separates them from previous Anderson characters is that these two can clearly see the misery in their futures should they carry along the path they're on and make a decision to pre-emptively get away from this.
So why is this society they're being raised in so damn unhappy? They live on an idyllic island and everyone seems to be comfortably well off. It doesn't even strike us as an overtly authoritarian world to grow up in. There are a number of different authorities in the film, and all are painted in different, but similar colours.
Suzy's parents, Walt and Laura (Bill Murray and Frances McDormand) are never shown as intentionally malevolent. Suzy has three younger brothers, and they all seem reasonably normally adjusted, and there is never any suggestion that Suzy's parents do not care about her. Later in the film we are shown a book that Suzy has found hidden in the house: 'Caring for the Very Troubled Child'. It's clear that rather than trying to pose as antagonists, they are trying to find some way to reach out to her, but unfortunately they are going about it in totally the wrong way. The two are lawyers, and live in a loveless and passionless marriage, it seems that all they discuss before falling asleep is the success of applications they've made before various judges. As a result, and seeming out of desperation, Laura is having an affair, and frankly is not doing a very good job of hiding it, leading to Walt's emotional numbness and detachment. Their difficulty in communicating with Suzy is spelled out in a pretty overtly literal manner - their mother walks around the house with a megaphone searching for her, both amplifying and distorting her voice.
The other authority figures on the island are Captain Sharp (Bruce Willis) and Scout Master Randy Ward (Edward Norton). Again, as with Walt and Laura, they are not presented as tyrannical, overbearing figures, but as somewhat confused and slightly sad people. They are both never anything less than kind and fair with the application of their authority.
Captain Sharp appears to be the only policeman on the island, and when we see him framed with fishing paraphernalia in his opening shot we immediately understand just how busy his job is. Captain Sharp is having an affair with Suzy's mother Laura, although frankly this seems more borne out the fact that there doesn't appear to be anyone else around to have an affair with. They're both damaged people looking for someone to confide in.
Scout Master Randy Ward isn't as obviously swirling around in the whirlpool of misery as the other adults, but nonetheless he is still experiencing a sense of gnawing ennui in his life. He seems unready for the responsibility placed upon him. When asked early in the film what his job is he responds 'Mathematics teacher', but quickly corrects himself by saying he's a Scout Master, and Mathematics teacher on the side. As with Captain Sharp he seems to care deeply about the children under his responsibility, and we clearly see his concern and worry about Sam and Suzy as he records his daily log in his tent. He is kind, but it is telling that his repeated excuse for not knowing the Sam is an orphan is that "it wasn't in his record". Talking to him directly appears to have escaped him.
All of the adults on the island are thus entirely sympathetic, and we are repeatedly shown their genuine concern and worry for the runaway children. So in the face of these perfectly reasonable authority figures, why do our protagonists decide to fly the coop and head off into the wilderness? Well, apart from their sympathy they all have one further thing in common, they have subsumed their personal responsibilities to various cold and impersonal sets of rules and codes. Walt and Laura's parents repeatedly cite laws and regulations in support of their arguments (and refer to a book to try and work out the 'rules' for dealing with their troubled child), Randy Ward sticks rigidly to the Khaki Scout rulebook and Captain Sharp is the policeman, so works according to the word of the law. All of these characters have to various degrees abdicated their sense of individuality and decision-making to cold, impersonal forces.
The ultimate expression of this theme in the film is Tilda Swinton's 'Social Services'. She has totally subsumed her own identity into that of the authority she represents. The character has no name, and refers to herself in the third person as 'Social Services'. She speaks in direct and commanding statements, "Just find the boy, and deliver him to Social Services. Nothing else is in your power." As an adult character she stands apart from the rest, an intruder into their pastel-coloured island community in her stark blue cloak. It is important than even though she is the expression of authority taken to its extreme, she is never portrayed as acting consciously wickedly. The rules say that Sam should be in 'Juvenile Refuge' and given electro-shock treatment, and she is just executing those orders. It's not a personal vendetta, and even though the end result of her plans is horrific, you know that the character sees it as an unpleasantness in aid of the greater good.
The cinematography and direction underlines these themes. The environments the adult characters inhabit are consistently portrayed as boxes, a collection of right angles and severe lines and sharp colour delineation. The Bishop house is the clearest example of his, and the opening shots of the film demonstrate precisely how we are to view the architecture of the place. The camera moves along a dolly, turning at sharp right angles in perfect parallel lines to the layout and inhabitants of the house. It's like looking into a dollhouse, an instantly recognisable Wes Anderson shot. Here it serves us thematically, boxing Suzy in. In contrast, the child escapees inhabit the natural world, as free within the frame as they are in the plot. Theirs is a world of long, looping curves, be it the sweep of the beach they fall in love on and name 'Moonrise Kingdom', or the 'Chickchaw Harvest Migration Trail' they follow on their adventure.
Faced with admittedly sympathetic yet constricting reality it is important to understand exactly what form the children's rebellion takes. They do not abandon civilisation and rules for a wild, anarchistic existence - quite the opposite in fact. They bring as much of civilisation as they need along with them on their journey. It's notable that Suzy's suitcase doesn't contain clothes and supplies, but rather books. She brings her kitten, a record player and a supply of cat food. Even in their rejection of the adult society, Sam still follows the survival rules taught to him in the Scouts, and survives admirably. Once they have been caught, the Scout Master praises Sam on the layout of his beachside campsite. But even though they have brought some of the trappings of the outside world with them, there are huge differences between the interactions of the adults and that of Sam and Suzy.
The two children act at all times with complete emotional nakedness. They only ever say precisely what they feel and seem to act at all times with utter honesty. They know exactly what they feel at any given time and act accordingly. Their romantic relationship is so pure and reflexive that there is not too much to say about it other than that they love each other, and therefore should be together. Much of the conflict in the film is generated directly and indirectly by the adults trying to process this unshakable partnership. They simply do not have a frame of reference for it. It's kind of annoying that Wes Anderson films are often accused of being overly ironic and detached. These kinds of heartfelt and genuine romantic attachments pepper his films and are generally treated utterly sincerely. There are some pretty brave scenes in the film exploring juvenile sexuality, which is a tricky subject for a director to tackle without making the audience feel a bit creepy. Anderson neatly sidesteps the issue purely by dint of the the sincerity and care with which he builds and develops the relationship.
The pivotal scene thematically in terms of the characters being governed by external rules is the marriage scene. The characters have escaped to 'Camp Lebanon' where an older boy 'Cousin Ben' (Jason Schwartzman) claims to have the semi-authority to marry them. In a great piece of dialogue he spells out that the marriage will not be at all legally binding in numerous specific ways. The characters are essentially acting out a ceremony with no authority given to it all. Sam and Suzy are repeatedly asked if they're sure they want to go through with this, and told that this is an important decision that will affect them for the rest of their lives. They are 100% sure, and are married. The film does not treat this marriage as anything less than the real thing. It is the clearest demonstration of what the film is trying to say about authority and rules: they are what you make of them, and only binding in so far as you acknowledge them. As far as the film is concerned, there is no difference between a full legally sanctioned marriage, and Sam and Suzy's. Throughout the rest of the film we have seen that sticking rigidly to the rules without consideration leads to misery and inaction and the seriousness of this ceremony accentuates it.
This is further underlined during the climax of the film. Sam and Suzy have climbed to the top of a church tower to escape the adults. A storm rages, and the adults are panicking downstairs trying to figure out a way to save them. Their solution is to utilise all their knowledge to work out a way within their particular sets of rules to save the children. Suzy's parents work out a legal argument to save Sam from Social Security, who frantically flips through a her rulebook to see if it works. It does, and Sam is adopted by Captain Sharp, who has climbed the tower and gained Sam's legal consent to do so. In the closing scene of the film we see how Sam has switched his outfit to co-opt the police authority of his new adoptive father Captain Sharp.
The impotence of rules and regulations against external forces are repeatedly demonstrated by Anderson throughout the film through natural forces (the storm) and the sheer, unshakable, romantic attachment of the two leads. The film is telling us that authority and rules have no inherent, absolute value, and that systems of control must prove their worth and utility. Anderson shows us that those who wield authority have choices as to whether to apply it either coldly without emotion or with humanity and sympathy.
I had a wonderful time watching this film, as I have every other film by Wes Anderson. His casting choices are inspired, and the two leads are an astonishingly effective piece of casting. There are those who criticise him saying that he makes the same film over and over again. It's a regressive view, and begs the question exactly what are the films he should be making? Everything about this film, the cinematography, the soundtrack, the costumes and set design is pure Wes Anderson, and it's wonderful to see a director with such a clear idea of what he wants his film to be. You'd have to have a heart of stone not to be touched by this.
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