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Up

Sunday, June 14th, 2009—Film

Up (USA 2009, Animation/Action/Adventure/Comedy), Writers: Bob Peterson, Pete Docter; Director: Peter Docter

Up, the latest animated movie from Disney’s Pixar, has gotten a lot of hype. I’m not convinced it deserves the near-perfect ratings it’s been getting, but I will say this: the parts that moved me were incredible and more than made up for the parts that didn’t.

The trailer for Up gives very little of the plot away, and I want to honour that as much as possible. So here’s what you need to know, in a nutshell: Elderly Carl Fredricksen (Ed Asner) manages to hook his house up to thousands of colourful helium balloons that carry him up, up and away. Hovering somewhere above the city streets, he discovers that young Wilderness Explorer Russell (Jordan Nagai) has stowed away on his porch, joining him for the journey. Along the way, Carl and Russell have many adventures, including meeting a talking dog named Dug (Bob Peterson).

Those are the story’s nuts and bolts. But to really explore why I loved this movie, I have to elaborate on something that isn’t seen in the trailer. It happens in the film’s first 10 minutes, so I don’t think mentioning it here counts as a spoiler. But just in case, please consider this your warning.

We meet Carl as a young boy who dreams of adventure. One day, he comes across a dilapidated old house and stumbles into the adventurer of his dreams—the equally young Ellie. The two become fast friends, and in a beautiful, heart wrenching sequence, we see their life together play out before us. Without any dialogue, we watch Carl and Ellie fall in love and get married, renovate and move into the beat-up old house where they met, discover they can’t have children, push aside their dreams of finding adventure in South America, and inevitably grow old and infirm. When Carl visits Ellie in the hospital, he floats a balloon into her room, just as she did on the first night she came to his window some 70 years before. And it instantly brought me to tears.

This is part of the marvel of Up’s opening. You see a 70-year love story play out in a matter of minutes, and at the end of it you feel Carl’s loss almost as deeply as if had been your own. The look on Carl’s face when he steps into the hospital room after floating Ellie her last balloon took me right back to another hospital room, and a moment I’ll never forget. I was visiting my ailing grandfather, who by chance was sharing a room with a former colleague from the university where they’d both taught. As I wheeled my grandfather out of the room for a brief change of scenery, he locked eyes with the dying professor, and it was as if every memory they shared was instantly replayed between them. All those years spent running around campus, able-bodied, zipping through their lives—it all came down to that one moment in the hospital. They didn’t say a word, but the look they shared spoke volumes. They didn’t break eye contact until grandfather and I left the room.

In Up, the filmmakers brought all that back for me. Carl and Ellie’s story is summed up briefly and succinctly, and that makes it all the more poignant. Life really does go by in the blink of an eye, and no matter what you go through to get to the end of it, I imagine almost everyone must have that moment of wondering, “How did I get here so fast?”

I’m emphasizing Up’s opening both because it is by far the best part of the film and because it roots the rest of the movie’s success. With Ellie gone, Carl becomes bitter and angry, shutting himself off from the rest of the world. When faced with having to leave his beloved home, Carl remembers his promise to Ellie—that he would get to South America and discover Paradise Falls, “a land lost in time”—and throws caution to the wind, setting off in his airborne house.

The sequence when the house takes off, buoyed by so many colourful balloons, is uplifting and poetic and almost as moving as the earlier sequence between Carl and Ellie. You can feel his spirits soar for the first time since his wife’s passing. The joy of seeing those glorious balloons pulling Carl’s dreams back to life recalls a childhood delight that’s on par with bubbles and fireworks. There’s something about not knowing where an adrift balloon could end up that really captures the imagination, and suddenly Carl’s house takes on that magic and power.

Disappointingly, not long after Carl and Russell take flight, I found myself a little deflated by their “adventure.” Dug is funny, and many of his lines are spot-on as far as capturing dog behaviour. But some of the other plot points and characters are much less inspired, and a couple are even annoying (like the Alpha dog). It’s not that the movie is bad at any point, it’s just that its weaker moments seem somewhat silly compared with the stunning promise delivered in the film’s opening.

What kept Up afloat for me were the constant reminders of Ellie. There’s a deeply touching moment later in the film when Carl goes through Ellie’s scrapbook and discovers that she saw their life together as an adventure. Her memory haunts the story as much as it haunts Carl, and that’s a very good thing. It makes everything so much more meaningful, from beginning to end.

*            *            *

This post is for SM, my oldest friend, who won’t give up on dreams, knows the magic of a tree, and will walk mile upon mile to find the next great adventure. Happy birthday.

Grizzly Man & Rachel Getting Married

Monday, May 18th, 2009—Film

Grizzly Man (USA 2005, Documentary/Biography), Writer/Director: Werner Herzog

Rachel Getting Married (USA 2008, Drama/Romance), Writer: Jenny Lumet; Director: Jonathan Demme

Two quick write-ups of movies I saw last year that are wonderful and should be at the top of your rental lists.

Grizzly Man is a documentary about Timothy Treadwell, the grizzly bear enthusiast who spent over a dozen summers living among the bears until one fatally attacked him in 2003. This is by far one of the most moving films I’ve ever seen. I was brought to tears more than once.

Critics of the film have attacked Treadwill for abusing the animals by invading their space, and for showing tremendous arrogance in thinking he could cross nature’s boundaries. Those points might be more relevant if Grizzly Man were a documentary about grizzly bears. But it’s not. It’s a fascinating character study of a troubled man who took solace in animals when he couldn’t relate to society.

Using footage shot by Treadwell himself, visionary writer/director Werner Herzog takes us into Treadwell’s world and paints a picture of a lonely, delusional man who projected his own feelings onto the wild animals. Herzog has a gift for tampering with conventional filmmaking to create unique, special movies, and he more than delivers with Grizzly Man. I was blown away by what Herzog revealed simply by allowing Treadwell to contradict himself. The director didn’t abuse voiceover to pound home the message. Instead, he let Treadwell unveil his own mind and expose his failings and complexities.

One of the best examples of Treadwell’s delusion comes when he finds a bee perched motionless on a branch. With great anguish, he ponders the tragedy of the bee’s presumed death. Seconds later, when the bee takes flight, Treadwell finds great delight in the miracle that the bee is still alive. It’s so obvious that the bond he’s formed with nature has little, if anything, to do with the creatures themselves and almost everything to do with Treadwell’s needs.

Throughout Grizzly Man, the childlike Treadwell comes across as emotionally handicapped. In one of the film’s more personal moments, Treadwell laments that women don’t seem to understand him, and even goes so far as to say he wishes he were gay because women are so hard to get over. There’s an obvious disconnect from reality—or at least the reality that most of us can agree on.

In one scene, Treadwell sobs that the bears are “so fucked over.” But it’s clear he’s really crying for himself. He’s like a little boy desperate for love and approval, still clinging to the stuffed bear that brought him comfort as a child. Tragically for Treadwell, he continued to live in an imagined reality well into adulthood. He found love and devotion in the bears’ eyes, where others saw only detachment and the inevitability of what was to come.

Rachel Getting Married is another film from a director who isn’t afraid of taking risks. Jonathan Demme has shown his versatility by tackling a range of different films (Silence of the Lambs, Beloved), and with the documentary-style Rachel Getting Married, he shows his talent for naturalism.

The film follows Kym (Anne Hathaway) as she takes a break from rehab to attend her sister Rachel’s (Rosemarie DeWitt) wedding. This is family dysfunction at its best. You truly feel like a guest at the wedding, invited to glimpse the baggage as it’s unpacked—sometimes tidily, other times hurled around the room at breakneck speed. But there are also lovely, fun, happy moments, like the competitive dishwasher-loading scene.

Several years ago, Anne Hathaway became one of the actors I’d see a movie for, and Rachel Getting Married definitely solidifies that. The movie is full of wonderful performances, but it’s Hathaway who grounds—and steals—the show.

I highly recommend this one. My only (minor) complaint is that I wasn’t left with a strong feeling after the movie ended. Like a real wedding, it’s easy to get caught up in the mood while watching it. But in the end, I’m not sure I took too much away from it. Still, it’s a moving, convincing experience while it lasts. And you can be grateful that, at the end of the night, you get to go home to a family with a lot less baggage. Well, in some cases, anyway. 😉

One Week

Monday, May 18th, 2009—Film

One Week (Canada 2009, Drama), Writer/Director: Michael McGowan

“To strive, to seek, to find and not to yield.”

That line closes the film One Week, the latest feature from Saint Ralph writer/director Michael McGowan, and it sums up what seems to be a major theme for McGowan. Both One Week and Saint Ralph follow male protagonists who persevere in the face of obstacles—most notably, oppressive authority figures. But unlike Ralph, whose spirit appears virtually unbreakable and keeps him from veering off course, One Week’s Ben Tyler (Joshua Jackson) takes a much longer route to reach his final destination.

The film begins with Ben learning he has terminal cancer. His initial reaction is relief that he doesn’t have to continue his job or go through with a wedding to Samantha (Liane Balaban). In Ben’s words, rejection beat the creativity out of him and he’s been sleepwalking through life ever since. His Grade 4 teacher silenced his singing ambitious by maliciously telling him he had a dreadful voice. A Little League coach shamed him out of daydreaming. He gave up on his ambition of becoming a writer when his first book wasn’t promptly picked up.

For Ben, the news of his illness is an opportunity to step back and figure out what he really wants. That step back takes the form of a solo motorcycle ride across Canada—from Toronto, Ontario to Tofino, BC. Along the way, Ben meets a series of people who help him waken from his daze and figure out what really matters to him.

One Week isn’t as smooth a ride for me as Saint Ralph. But it shares with the film sincerity and a sense of humour, and there are enough heartfelt moments to buoy One Week and make it, on the whole, more than worthwhile.

Something else that endears me to the film is McGowan’s clear and unabashed love for Canada and its music. Canuck musicians Gord Downie and Emm Gryner have cameos in the film, and the entire soundtrack is Canadian. One Week pays such a loving tribute to music that I’m tempted to sprinkle this post with song lyrics. That would be a little too hokey, I think. But the fact that so many lyrics spring to mind speaks to how universal the film’s themes are: What is the price of not living your dream? How many of us are settling for a career, a partner, a life that is less than what we long for? How much can repressing your spirit poison your body?

If One Week doesn’t have quite the same magic as Saint Ralph, maybe that goes hand-in-hand with making a film about adulthood as opposed to childhood. Ultimately, One Week shows that the boy—the dreamer—is still alive in Ben, even if he takes the long way to finding him.

Moon (teaser)

Friday, May 8th, 2009—Film

Moon (UK 2009, Sci-Fi/Thriller), Writers: Duncan Jones, Nathan Parker; Director: Duncan Jones

Moon isn’t scheduled for wide release until July, but I can’t wait that long to post about it. I’m so excited to see this movie! Check out the trailer; it’s haunting. And especially exciting for me given that I’m in the process of finalizing the content for Astrorocket, my new children’s book about space travel.

The Moon trailer says it all, so I won’t get into a plot summary. I can’t wait to see it because of the fantastic mood created in the trailer, the subject matter (space has always completely blown my mind, and the more I think and learn about it, the less I can believe it… it’s too big to fit inside one mind) and the talent. Lead actor Sam Rockwell has been involved in some pretty interesting work (Basquiat, Confessions of a Dangerous Mind).

Also, Moon looks unique and ballsy. I’m always drawn to movies that take risks, like a sci-fi that revolves around one person in isolation, and relies on intelligence rather than falling back on special effects.

Check out this interview with writer/director Duncan Jones, in which he talks about the response Moon got at a recent NASA screening (among other things). And keep Moon on your horizon! I’ll definitely post about it once I see it.

Saint Ralph

Wednesday, April 1st, 2009—Film

Saint Ralph (Canada 2004, Comedy/Drama/Sport), Writer/Director: Michael McGowan

Saint Ralph is such an uplifting movie. It’s definitely capable of drawing both kinds of tears, in the very best way. I first saw it as a special screening at the Summer Institute of Film and Television in 2004. But I’m bringing it back in honour of my good friend GR, who’s getting ready to run the Boston Marathon in just over two weeks.

This is one film I’m proud to call Canadian. It’s written and directed by former distance runner Michael McGowan, and it tells the story of Ralph Walker (Adam Butcher), a 14-year-old Catholic schoolboy who believes that winning the 1954 Boston Marathon will be the miracle he needs to bring his mother out of a coma.

From the outset, it certainly looks like it will take a miracle. Ralph is an occasional smoker, and frequent self-abuser who is forced into running by Father Fitzpatrick (Gordon Pinsent) after an “accidental” self-abuse incident in the community swimming pool—which involved a water jet and a conveniently angled view into the women’s change room. When Ralph shows up for his first practise, the stunned runners ask, “You’re not joining the cross-country team, are you?” “Of course I’m not joining,” Ralph replies. “I was conscripted.”

But after spending his first few weeks at the back of the pack, Ralph gets it into his head that if he can win the Boston Marathon in six months, his mother will miraculously awaken. So, with all the vigor and enthusiasm he used to give to self-abuse, Ralph commits himself to running. His passion inspires Father Hibbert (Campbell Scott)—once the top marathon runner in Canada—to help him train for Boston, despite Father Fitzpatrick’s strong disapproval.

In all the sports movies I’ve seen, I’ve never wanted a character to win as badly as I wanted Ralph to cross that finish line first. He’s so heartbreakingly earnest and sincere that you can’t help but root for him, even when his ideas seem completely implausible. No task is insurmountable, and nothing breaks his spirit (at least, never for very long). After reading up on Olympic diving, he decides there isn’t much competition in the field and starts his training off by belly flopping from the highest diving board with great gusto. When his dream girl turns him down because she plans to become a nun, he sees her calling as a way of denying her true feelings for him and refuses to give up.

By the time the starting gun goes off in Boston, nearly all the disbelievers have come around and are rooting for Ralph to win. Watching what he’s accomplished, and knowing the reasoning behind it, it’s impossible not to be swept up in the moment. Part of what makes the movie’s marathon climax so moving is the soundtrack. Gord Downie recorded a gorgeous, unusual arrangement of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah for the movie. It’s the thing I remember most about Saint Ralph after all these years. (And while we’re on the subject, if you’re a Leonard Cohen fan and haven’t heard Allison Crowe’s stunning version of the song, you should change that pronto. I think it’s even better than K.D. Lang’s beautiful version.)

For sports fans—and especially running fans—Saint Ralph is a sweet, funny little treat. And for everyone else, it’s always good to be reminded that people like Ralph exist. After all, as Father Hibbert says, “if we’re not chasing after miracles, what’s the point?”

Watchmen

Saturday, March 21st, 2009—Film

Watchmen (USA 2009, Action/Sci-Fi/Fantasy/Thriller), Writers: David Hayter, Alex Tse; Director: Zack Snyder

I met a guy with a dog named Knup (punk spelled backwards) who was reading the graphic novel, Watchmen, by Alan Moore. I took a glance at it after seeing the movie, and found that many of the moments were lifted directly from the comic. So I assume most fans of the graphic novel will appreciate the film adaptation.

Having never read the novel, I appreciated the movie but I’m not sure how much I liked it. I loved some of the ideas behind it, but felt like there were a lot of wasted opportunities to really explore some of the psychological, religious, political and societal issues that are raised. It was pretty cheesy, and there was some bad acting and far too much gory violence. (When fists start going through body parts, I start closing eyes.) The movie has a great soundtrack, but the music isn’t integrated into the film so much as it is featured in it; most of the musical sequences are clunky and self-conscious. Still, the themes the movie brings up are interesting enough to make me want to write a post about it, and to try to track down that guy and his dog to see if I can borrow the comic.

Watchmen is set in a 1985 America where Nixon is still in power, and costumed heroes are a recognized part of society—even if they have been forced into retirement by the government. The context is deeply rooted around America’s political past. An opening montage highlights the Watchmen’s activities, starting from when they came into power in the 1940s and following them through the Vietnam War, the Cold War, and the current threat of impending nuclear destruction—indicated by the Doomsday Clock that’s permanently set to midnight.

Soon after the opening montage, we see one of the Watchmen murdered. The assault leaves Rorschach (Jackie Earle Haley) convinced that someone has it in for him and the other remaining Watchmen, so he sets out on a mission to warn his former partners and find out who’s behind the murder.

One of the main disappointments for me was the wasted potential to explore the complex psychologies of the Watchmen. Rorschach is the only character whose backstory is satisfying and convincing. A lot of that has to do with the excellent performance Haley turns in. He’s the genius behind the Academy Award-nominated portrayal of tormented sex offender Ronnie in Little Children, and he’s equally good as Rorschach. Haley leaves you utterly convinced of Rorschach’s motives, and left me wanting to see a film entirely about him. Unfortunately, none of the other characters are given the same depth, either by the actors or the filmmakers.

Another disappointment was the fact that the movie never followed through on one of the story’s central themes—the superhero as “every man.” With the exception of Dr. Manhattan (Billy Crudup), none of the Watchmen possess super powers. (Although they would make kickass track athletes.) Instead, they’re “real” people living within the rest of society, if not quite fitting in.

Rather than believing in a higher power that will come to humanity’s defence, the Watchmen have to grapple with the notion that they’ve been left alone to do “God’s work.” There are many references to God in the movie. In reflecting on the disastrous state of humanity, Rorschach says “God didn’t make the world this way. We did.” But if that’s the case—and as the movie’s clever tagline asks—who watches the Watchmen? Does anyone, or anything, really care?

This sense of abandonment is highlighted by the fact that the god-like Dr. Manhattan, who has the power to create matter from nothing, is no longer convinced there is any value to life. I kept wishing the screenwriters had delved further into this topic instead of wasting time on cornball antics. I couldn’t have cared less about anything involving Silk Spectre (Malin Akerman) and Nite Owl (Patrick Wilson).

One of the other main letdowns came when we see Dr. Manhattan’s unique take on the world through Silk Spectre’s eyes. Dr. Manhattan is blessed and cursed with the ability to see the past, present and future simultaneously. This power supposedly gives him an omniscient perspective, one he feels Silk Spectre doesn’t even try to understand. But when she asks to see the world through his eyes, all we get are her own repressed childhood memories. Hardly universe-altering. If someone can see past, present and future simultaneously (assuming they have independent thought, which Dr. Manhattan appears to have throughout the film), I imagine it would be like looking through a kaleidoscope—an ever-changing landscape that’s coloured by the past, but changed by the millisecond as feelings and experiences alter the present and redirect the future’s path. The memory Silk Spectre dredges up just seems trite in comparison to the transcendental power Dr. Manhattan supposedly holds.

Which leads me to a real-life transcendental experience my sister recently told me about. There’s a fascinating neuroanatomist named Julie Bolte Taylor who went through a massive stroke many years ago. The stroke temporarily severed communication between her left and right hemispheres, and she was able to tune out the “brain chatter” from her left hemisphere—the one that controls language and logic, reflects on the past and projects onto the future—and focus only on the right hemisphere. Bolte Taylor describes entering a Zen-like state of Nirvana, where everything was connected by energy and she no longer felt limited by her body, or by her past and preconceptions. “Imagine what it would feel like,” she says, “to lose 37 years of emotional baggage! I felt euphoria.” Without the left hemisphere governing her thoughts, she was free to feel her emotions and instincts without censorship, in their purest form. (I highly recommend watching this video to hear the story in Bolte Taylor’s own words.)

This reminds me of Dr. Manhattan. He has transcended his physical form. And he can control energy. But he can’t feel it. He has broken everything and everyone down to the smallest level, so much so that his reality has become pointless. Rather than experiencing a conversation with his girlfriend, he simply informs her of the outcome and writes it off. He is so overloaded with ideas and notions about the past and future that he’s given up on living in the present.

All of the Watchmen do this to some extent. They can’t predict the future, but they’re so coloured by their pasts and busy anticipating the future that they can’t fully experience the present. That’s a problem everyone faces in today’s world; we couldn’t fulfill daily expectations without our left hemisphere. But for the Watchmen, who are imprisoned by neuroses and scars from the past, it presents an interesting notion—that connectedness and being in touch with one another’s energy could lead to a more whole, peaceful kind of humanity where life is truly valued and respected. At one point in the film, when Dr. Manhattan begins to find his way back to the others, he concludes that life is as much as miracle as “turning air into gold.”

Watchmen offers plenty to chew on. From what I’ve heard about the graphic novel, it’s much more intellectually satisfying than the movie. It says a lot that Moore refused screen credit. Still, many thought-provoking ideas are touched on, albeit lightly, in the film. And the visuals are stunning. I’d say see it if you can stomach blood and guts (highly stylized, of course) and are capable of hitting the mute button on your left brain for a few hours. And definitely see it if you’ve read the comic.

Tell No One (Ne le dis à personne)

Sunday, March 8th, 2009—Film

Tell No One (France 2006, Crime/Drama/Mystery/Thriller), Writer/Director: Guillaume Canet

A few weeks ago, when I was laid up with a cold, I rented a really great French film called Tell No One. I watched it, and then I did nothing else with it until now, which is a shame because it’s an excellent movie and has been showing at repertory theatres in the meantime. But it is available to rent, and will be coming back to the ByTowne next month. So you should make a point of seeing it, one way or another.

Tell No One was released in Europe in 2006, but it didn’t reach North American audiences until 2008. When the film begins, Dr. Alex Beck (François Cluzet) and his wife Margot (Marie-Josée Croze) are spending a blissfully romantic day in the country. By the end of the night, Margot is brutally murdered and Alex is unconscious.

Eight years later, Alex is still frozen in his grief. He never got over the loss of his wife, who was his greatest love and childhood sweetheart. Near the eighth anniversary of Margot’s unsolved murder, two bodies are turned up near the site of her death. And Alex gets an email with evidence that Margot is still alive—and instructions to tell no one. As Alex secretly tries to put the pieces together, the police become increasingly suspicious of him, not only for Margot’s death but also for the rising body count.

Tell No One is based on the Harlan Coben novel of the same name. I haven’t read the book, but I didn’t have to to know that the movie definitely stands on its own. It doesn’t suffer from the problem many adaptations do: taking the source material too literally and failing to translate onscreen. In the end, Tell No One is a simple enough story (if murder can ever really be simple). Its success comes in the way writer/director Canet lets the story unfold. The mystery itself isn’t particularly unusual or inspired. But the pacing throughout the movie is so spot-on that you’re intrigued to the very end.

Canet and Cluzet keep you aligned with Alex throughout the film, giving you a reason to care about what happens to him. Part of that reason lies in the fabulous job the filmmakers did in establishing Alex and Margot’s bond. Cluzet and Croze—a Quebec actress and one of the most appealing performers I’ve ever watched (see The Diving Bell and the Butterfly)—really make you believe in the couple’s love. The fact that you can feel Alex’s loss goes a long way to making you want to see his journey through to the end.

In this way, Tell No One achieves exactly what I criticized The Brave One for failing to do. There’s a certain quiet that director Canet lets happen between Alex and Margot, in the little looks and touches we see, and it allows their relationship to blossom on camera. In Neil Jordan’s The Brave One, it was too much, too soon for the lovebirds. But with Tell No One, it’s a case of never enough, never soon enough. Or, in the words of a much better writer than I: “You’re many years late/how happy I am to see you.”

Go rent Tell No One. You’ll wonder why you waited so long.

Revolutionary Road

Tuesday, February 10th, 2009—Film

Revolutionary Road (USA 2008, Drama), Writer: Justin Haythe; Director: Sam Mendes

Last weekend was an interesting one to watch a movie full of dysfunctional relationships and shattered dreams. It seemed nearly everywhere I went, people were coping with some kind of emotional turmoil—being jilted, avoiding being jilted, choosing between two lovers… Revolutionary Road was timely for me in that way. But one major difference between the people I was around this weekend and those in the movie is that the ones in real life were acting on their feelings. As awful as their emotions may have felt at the time, it’s always better to truly feel them than to live a life as sterilized and detached as the ones portrayed in Revolutionary Road.

The movie is from American Beauty director Sam Mendes and is based on Richard Yates’ 1961 novel about a dissatisfied American couple living in 1950s suburbia. Frank (Leonardo DiCaprio) and April (Kate Winslet) had high hopes when they bought their beautiful home on Connecticut’s Revolutionary Road, but their dreams were soon smothered by the weight of a mortgage, two children, and—most significantly—social expectations. In an attempt to escape their malaise and disappointment, the couple plans to move to Paris, where April will support Frank as he discovers how to fulfill his destiny as “a man.” But when they announce the news to their friends and co-workers, the response makes them question their decision, driving them even deeper into the dark hole they thought they had found a way out of.

Revolutionary Road has been out for a while now, so many of you may already have seen it. I’ve heard an awful lot about it, from friends and through reviews. The feedback has been mixed, but I have to say that any of the criticisms I’ve heard struck me as strengths rather than weaknesses. Some people have said that the movie felt staged, detached and full of pretense. Not to mention depressing. All that is true, but it absolutely suits the subject matter, and serves to create a wonderful tone that allows the tension to come to a slow, rolling boil before quietly spilling over.

The 50s, at least from what I’ve seen in movies from the period, were staged and full of pretense. What mattered most was appearance. People not only set aside their true feelings and desires, but they rarely took the time to discover what they even were. Revolutionary Road takes the viewer on a guided tour of emotional and psychic destruction, exposing what happens to people—as individuals, as partners, as families—when they are suppressed by convention, forced into gender roles, and detached from their dreams.

In convincing Frank to move to Paris, April—who once had high hopes of being a famous actress—tells Frank that their entire life in Connecticut is based on the premise that they are special. But, she says, “we’re just like everyone else,” a realization that hits home for her when she takes her trash can out and looks up to see identical bins lining the curb of every house on the road.

Frank and April’s struggle to find themselves leads to increasingly destructive behaviour, and you know it’s just a matter of time before their beautifully decorated lifestyle implodes. Thinking back on the movie, I’m reminded of a line from Tori Amos’ song Silent All These Years: “My scream got lost in a paper cup; you think there’s a heaven where some screams have gone.”

I wonder how many people peering through the windows of today’s quiet suburban homes feel the same sense of entrapment that Frank and April feel. How many people truly love what they do, or are excited to be alive? And how many escape to various imagined realities when their minds can’t bear the truth of their existence?

Mendes, Director of Photography Roger Deakins, and especially Winslet, create a tone that perfectly reflects the feelings of unrest and stagnation that arise when people are forced into a culture that is based on a fear of being different. Yes, Revolutionary Road is hard to watch. You’re supposed to feel temporarily numbed by the experience. And scared. And introspective. Hopefully it will inspire action, or at least self-discovery, in anyone who sees it.

The film’s closing shot is a quietly powerful testament to what can happen when people resign themselves to playing along, rather than trying to make what they want of their lives. They slowly tune the world out and fall into a vacuum, detached from everything around them and from who they really are. Watch Revolutionary Road. Take a lesson from the strangeness you feel. And enjoy some fabulous craftsmanship while you’re at it; it’s not every filmmaker who can create such a powerful mood.

The Wrestler

Friday, January 2nd, 2009—Film

Milk

Sunday, December 14th, 2008—Film

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