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Reviews
Kunsten å tenke negativt (2006)
A woman is repeatedly sexually assaulted, bitten and punched in the face
And we are supposed to feel fine about it. This black comedy is a stranger comes to town story (although in this case the community comes to the stranger, since he is housebound through grief after suffering a spinal cord injury) that capitalizes on the bad-behavior genre. The violence and cruelty in the movie -- there is a surprising amount of violence, although it results in very little gore -- express a universal urge to rage against bad luck, and this is the pleasure viewers are supposed to derive from watching. Unfortunately, in this pre-#MeToo movie, this violence is overwhelmingly directed at a woman.
The woman who receives this violence is one of four able-bodied characters, and, as the facilitator of a support group for people with disabilities, she represents authority. She also represents the system and the vapidity of mainstream culture, which is a substantial narrative stretch, since people who work in care are almost always disadvantaged women. To cover this stretch, she is presented as the author of a book about the group that has just been accepted for publication. This plot point touches on interesting issues about representation of illness and disability, but, like the issue of suffering as competition also raised by the movie, the treatment is confusing and unresolved. At some points, the group members are shown as collaborators, and at others, victims of exploitation.
The other women in the movie come in for a lot of abuse, too; the long-suffering girlfriend, the group member whose suffers a mental illness rather than a physical disability, and the woman with quadriplegia function primarily as sexual objects. Their agency is limited to providing sexual access. The men in the movie don't benefit from this; their agency is limited to sexual performance, and this, it seems, is the real problem of the badly-behaving hero stranger. In this film, the men's violence stands in for sexual performance; by battering a woman, they demonstrate they still have some agency.
Bigger issues about loneliness and guilt are raised in the process of farcical sexual pursuit, but, like the suffering-as-competition and disability-porn themes, they aren't explored with any depth. Instead, the badly-behaving hero is cast as redeemer, and the narrative ends with the perplexing message that deliverance comes in the form of a wealthy white man with a big gun, booze and weed. The long-suffering girlfriend rides off into the sunset (sunrise, in this case) with the stranger, who has, one hopes, finally realized clinical potency isn't required for sex.
Farce and loose threads aren't problems. The ambiguity and dominant theme of moral anarchic catharsis would be enjoyable if it weren't for the sexist framing of the violence in this film. The assaults endured by the group facilitator are simply too realistic, too close to the harassment and abuse endured by women in all kinds of workplaces, particularly care work, to fall under black comedy. This film literally gave me nightmares, and will give nightmares to many women who have experienced sexual, verbal, emotional and verbal assault of the kind that has been overlooked or trivialized.
Silver Linings Playbook (2012)
Storytelling on lithium; flat and foggy
(Warning: review contains Australian spelling as well as spoilers.)
Hyped as a story about mental illness, this movie somehow turns into a predictable tale about quirky, two-dimensional characters whose good looks, deployed to make ordinary people sympathetic to their struggles, instead make them easy to watch but difficult to relate to. In spite of the good intentions of the film-makers, the delusions and dilemmas of the leads remain picturesque rather than compelling, and the irrational behaviour of the supporting characters robs their struggles of any urgency. If Pat Sr. (De Niro) is willing to risk everything for no discernible reason, why should the audience care if he loses it? Instead, the increasingly high stakes, with dad literally betting his livelihood, come across as an attempt by the film-makers, anticipating the boredom of viewers, to increase emotional intensity at the expense of sense or understanding.
As you'll know from seeing the film or every other review, the film starts with Pat (Cooper) leaving a locked mental health facility to return to his parent's home. After he violently assaulted his wife's lover, his marriage has broken down and his wife, who he also works with, has taken out a restraining order against him, so he is jobless as well as single and homeless. He fixes on getting his wife back as the solution to all his problems. Pat is offered help in the form of a dinner party invitation, where he is set-up with Tiffany (Lawrence) the sister of his friend's wife, who shares with him a history of taking mood stabilisers and also happens to be a friend of his ex. Recently widowed, Tiffany takes a shine to Pat, and after he initially rebuffs her advances, she manipulates him into becoming her partner for a dance competition in order to win him over. Meanwhile, Pat Sr. is convinced Pat is the good luck charm for the football team they support, and on which he's placed a large wager that, as mentioned before, expands to include his savings for his dream business. Quel surprise! The big game and the dance competition are scheduled at the same time.
As the film proceeds, complications like the ever-expanding wager are stacked on top of one another in a way that betrays the failure of the film to express the real difficulties, and the dreams, of people dealing with depression, bi-polar disorder, or other mental illnesses. Somehow, in all this mess, Pat Sr and mom Dolores manage to link dad's gambling to his belief in his son and family solidarity. I'm all for making happy endings and providing good role models, but where in this story is the reality of diagnosis being followed by desertion? It stretches credibility for a family who has, apparently, contributed to the mental illness of a son by failing to support him to suddenly risk everything just to give the same son a bit of a confidence boost.
The dance scene provides the one moment of real emotion in the film, a genuine laugh based on the risk we all take in exposing our vulnerabilities to one another, but it's quickly lost in the fast-paced but unsurprising conclusion. I AM surprised, however, at the acting nominations this film received; in the absence of a clear sense of real emotional investment, many of the key scenes in the film depend on shouting to create an illusion of strong feeling; this is especially true of De Niro's performance, which is a disappointment for viewers who expect more from an actor of his experience. Lawrence and Kher, who plays the doctor, offset this trend with some nice dead-pan deliveries, and Cooper is at his best when he follows their lead. There are also some rare instances in his performance where Cooper's confusion allows viewers to momentarily share a flash of insight into the times when all of us realise our behaviour and perceptions are harming us or those we love. These moments, like the humour and pathos in the dancing scene, are unfortunately lost in the avalanche of plot movements, along with the message of the film. It's as if director Russell, in a laudable but misguided attempt to reach the broadest audience with his message, has tried to please everyone by packing in a bit of everything. Afraid women won't watch? Put in a hunky male lead and some dancing. Afraid men won't watch? Put in some football and revealing dance costumes. Oh, and wait, it's all a bit white -- add a black friend and a Hindu doctor. The leads have to be white, of course, and straight and middle-class, so we don't confuse their mental health problems with political ones. Then again, Tiffany (Lawrence) is being medicated for being widowed and promiscuous, but the medicalisation of gender and grief can be left to another discussion.
I'm not big on providing film reviews, but was moved to write this one for two reasons. First, both the film-makers and audience should expect more, especially from films purporting to address big issues, and the host of nominations and rave reviews received by this film need to be balanced by a little honest criticism. Second, the particular big issue addressed in this film, mental illness, deserves to be brought into real discussion rather than minimised by a neat, nice, feel-good movie sedative.
I gave this movie one star because it's not actually evil, and a second star because there are some things -- the good-looking cast, the afore-mentioned dance scene -- that work, it's just that they end up working against rather than for the film's message. Confusing and ultimately boring in spite, or because, of the artificially elevated stakes, this movie fails to provide any effective treatment for the mental, and social, ills it attempts to address.
The Man from Earth (2007)
At his going away party, John Oldman, a professor of history reveals that he is really a 14,000 year old cromagnon man.
This is a film whose appeal is perhaps confined to those brought up on a strict diet of middle-American religious fundamentalism; for other viewers, the ground covered is familiar and unremarkable. As one hapless character states, "It was a beautiful idea", but the end result is very disappointing.
While the device of the 14,000 year-old man is an interesting one, the central character, John Oldman, comes across as tiresome and humourless, and his supporting characters, who serve only to tease out the rather trite philosophical ideas discussed in the film, are lifeless caricatures. The dialogue is both predictable and unrealistic; I've never met people who are so uninterested in themselves they'll spend an entire afternoon at a party without ever talking about their own lives, but this bunch obediently behave as an attentive, if critical, audience for Oldman's story. The film is shot essentially like a stage play; most of the action is confined to one room and the actors struggle with the unidimensional roles they've been given, particularly the women, who seem primarily to act as supports for Oldman-as-prophet's rather flaccid and unconvincing claim to virility. The whole narrative unfolds like the scene in an Agatha Christie novel where Poirot gathers the suspects together and reveals the murderer, only without the suspense.
I have no doubt that this movie will appeal to some -- fans of Dan Brown and Carlos Castenada -- but viewers who want to see a movie that grapples with the real complexity of human experience, or at least entertains, be warned; this is not the movie for you.