MY MOVIE SHELF: Rabbit Hole

The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015.  Remaining movies: 164  Days to go: 158

Movie #219:  Rabbit Hole

God, I love this movie. Rabbit Hole might honestly be one of my all-time favorite films, and that’s not a distinction I make lightly. In fact, I usually refuse to make such a distinction at all since I love so many films for so many different reasons. And yet, if it hadn’t been for Nicole Kidman’s Best Actress nomination for her performance as Becca, I probably never would’ve seen it. Rabbit Hole was a small film, barely distributed, barely marketed — especially not in smaller cities — but an Oscar nomination bears a certain distinction. I don’t have the resources — or lately the time — to attempt an Oscar Death Race, but I do take pains to see all the nominated films in major categories (Best Picture, Best Director, plus all the acting and screenplay categories), and that’s how Rabbit Hole and I came to be acquainted.

The story is of Becca and her husband Howie (Aaron Eckhart), who have suffered the unbearable tragedy of losing their four-year-old son. What I love most about the film, though, is how it handles that tragedy. Namely, it doesn’t exploit it, it doesn’t play up the maudlin nature of the tale, it doesn’t even show it. No, it plops the audience down right in the middle of these people’s fully formed lives eight months after the fact and lets them figure out for themselves, over the course of the film through pacing and dialogue, what exactly happened and how these two are coping. There’s no exposition, no ham-handed delivery, no shoe-horned revelations. When Becca’s sister Izzy (Tammy Blanchard) reveals she found out she was pregnant a few weeks ago and Becca asks why she didn’t tell her sooner, Izzy’s response is a familiar “You know why.” Nothing else needs to be said between the sisters, so nothing else is.

Everyone speaks in coded language, particular to these people and this situation, giving the audience the feel of being immersed into real lives in progress. It’s one of the most authentic and organic atmospheres I’ve ever experienced from a film. Even the reveal of how, exactly, their little boy died occurs within a well-worn argument, clearly traversed several times before, both vocally and as part of each individual’s internal monologue. External conflicts and difficulties are alluded to but not over-explained. And the trials of both Becca and Howie are made visible — almost tangible — rather than verbalized.

Rabbit Hole is the story of two parents who lost their child and who are struggling in different ways with their mourning. One wants to withdraw, to never discuss it, to never allow the pain to take over because it does her no good. The other wants to feel, wants to remember, wants to share his grief with his wife and let it wash over them both. As a result, they find a widening distance between them, despite their clear and obvious love, contentment and comfort level with one another. (Their intimacy and camaraderie — despite tension — is perhaps never more obvious than when Becca accuses Howie of trying to rope her into sex. He denies it, saying he was just playing some music. She responds, incredulous, “Al Green isn’t roping?! Al Green!?”) Becca was a mother and wants to take care of people. She cooks and provides and tries to mother her sister and resents the companionship and outreach of her mother (Dianne Wiest). She finds herself drawn to and ultimately connecting with Jason (Miles Teller), the boy who shares in her tragedy from another angle — similar, but not the same, with guilt that is just as debilitating, just as haunting, just as pointless and nonsensical, as Becca’s own. Howie, on the other hand, finds solace in socializing, in commiserating. He wants a connection with his wife, but since his wife is emotionally unavailable, he finds himself drawn to and connecting with a woman named Gabby from their grief support group (Sandra Oh). He loves his wife, though, and I love that the movie doesn’t take the easy route of infidelity, so often used to exhibit marital strife and dissatisfaction. He recognizes the internal struggle he is having, and the cause for it, and he rebuffs the idea of Gabby because, well, she’s not Becca.

The other aspect of Rabbit Hole I love so much is the origin of the title — a comic book Jason writes and illustrates about a boy whose scientist father discovers these portals to alternate universes. Then the father dies, and the boy goes through all these portals to find his father, only his father is dead, so it isn’t the same. Becca reads the comic and it gives her comfort and closure in a way that support groups and religion can’t. It gives her the idea that somewhere her son is alive, that “this is just the sad version of us,” that “somewhere out there I’m having a good time.”

The movie, it turns out, is about how life, whether you like it or not, goes on, and figuring out how to do that. It ends with Becca and Howie talking, making plans for the future — not years away, but weeks: a barbecue — and just going through the little steps, day by day, that will get them through the next thing and the next and the next. And that’s how they’ll go from now on. Really, that’s how we all go on.

MY MOVIE SHELF: Erin Brockovich

The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015.  Remaining movies: 279  Days to go: 270

Movie #98: Erin Brockovich

Really fun Soderbergh retrospective, but it really bugs me when "Erin Brockovich" gets so casually dismissed. http://t.co/d16xqfzw7l

— Joe Reid (@joereid) August 10, 2014

As if note-perfect star vehicles are so easy to make.

— Joe Reid (@joereid) August 10, 2014

That was Joe Reid, the Entertainment Editor for The Wire, tweeting truth about Erin Brockovich — one of Steven Soderbergh’s most successful, yet least revered, films. (And before you go noting that Soderbergh was nominated for a Best Director Oscar for Erin Brockovich the same year he won for directing Traffic, I’ll point out that politics and popularity come into play concerning Oscar nominations and wins a lot more than AMPAS would like you to believe, and that Soderbergh managed not to split votes with himself and lose out to Ang Lee (probably the most deserving nominee, for Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon) or Ridley Scott (for Best Picture winner Gladiator) in part because, given the choice, nobody would vote for Soderbergh’s direction of Erin Brockovich over his work on Traffic. It just wasn’t going to happen. Ever.) Erin Brockovich is — a lot like its title character — outspoken and flip and not overly artful, but, man, does it get the job done.

Julia Roberts is phenomenal as Brockovich — a tough, uncultured woman fighting to get by who elbows her way into a job, stumbles across some shady dealings between Pacific Gas & Electric (PG&E) and the town of Hinkley, CA, and by sheer force of personality and will, helps bring about “the largest settlement every paid in a direct-action lawsuit in U.S. history.” Say what you will, not every actress can play bold and brash the way Roberts can. Just as she did in Pretty Woman, she manages to portray someone who stands out and rubs everyone the wrong way and makes people uncomfortable, but who wins people over and clearly has a huge, loving, generous heart. That’s a difficult balance to achieve. And it’s right in Roberts’s wheelhouse.

Of course, Hollywood loves true stories like this, the little guy beating out the big, bad corporation, and the film is definitely engineered to be a crowd-pleaser. But what I love about it is how honestly it portrays the struggle of a single mother. Single mothers get put on pedestals when their child grows up to be a famous athlete or something, but a lot of times they’re vilified — never overtly, but politically and societally. Erin Brockovich’s story isn’t all that different from a lot of women’s: She got married and had a baby when she was young, her husband leaves her with a couple of kids and she has no education or work experience to get herself a job — not one that’s going to pay her enough to cover her bills, at least. She can’t afford insurance or child care, and she has no benefits. So how is a woman like that supposed to survive? The movie sets her up as someone to be admired for her perseverance and gumption and “bootstrap” mentality, but in the real world very few employers will give you a chance based on your word, and even fewer will see your value to a company when you don’t necessarily play by the same social rules as everyone else, even if you get more work done, and do it better, than anyone else on the team. People make their assumptions about you, and it’s really hard to change them. Even Ed (Albert Finney) tells Erin in the film, “Look, I’m sorry but you were gone for a week. I assumed you were off having fun.” She responds, “Oh, and why the hell would you assume that?” Unfortunately, we don’t always get to challenge someone else’s assumptions about us.

The movie doesn’t just deal with how hard it is to get and keep a job, though, it also addresses how hard it is to find and keep a relationship, and all the stigmas attached with it. Because Erin’s been divorced not once but twice, she’s clearly perceived by those around her as some sort of low-class floozy, as if she chose for her husbands to leave her. And when she meets George (Aaron Eckhart), he initially bucks the trend of men in her life by embracing her work and her kids, but when the pressures of the PG&E case take too much of a toll on her time and her health and her state of mind, he caves. He scolds her for her attitude and tries multiple times to guilt her into quitting, and when she asks him to stay to prove he’s not like the others, he leaves anyway. So not only is she at fault when she can’t provide for her family, she’s also at fault when the job that allows her to provide for them keeps her away from them too long. It’s a no-win game for her — for lots of women — but she’s forced to play it regardless.

Of course there are lots of references to her looks or her using them to her advantage, but whether you buy into that or not — whether you find her brazenness distasteful or not — you can’t argue with the passion with which she fought for her clients (featuring some nice work in small roles by Marg Helgenberger and Cherry Jones) and her obvious sacrifices in order to do right by them. Roberts never lets you forget that. “That’s my work, my sweat, my time away from my kids! If that’s not personal, then I don’t know what is!”

If I had to guess, I would say a lot of people remember Erin Brockovich for the lines. “They’re called boobs, Ed.” “That’s all you got, lady. Two wrong feet in fucking ugly shoes.” “Do they teach beauty queens to apologize? Because you suck at it.” There are some great ones, as well as quite a few powerful monologues, but the truth of the matter is there’s a lot more to it than that. This is Julia’s movie, through and through, and she owns every single scene with defiance and audaciousness and fierce commitment. No other Oscar nominee put that much vitality and magnetism into her role that year, which is why she won. Plus, she wore that gorgeous vintage Valentino with the pleated train. High class or less so, the woman knows how to own it.

MY MOVIE SHELF: The Dark Knight

The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015.  Remaining movies: 297  Days to go: 283

Movie #80: The Dark Knight

Funny story:  Somehow I’ve lost Batman Begins. I know for a fact I used to have it, because my husband and I had this big discussion about whether it and The Dark Knight should be shelved in their respective alphabetical locations — separated from one another — or if they should be shelved together. (Obviously, the correct answer is alphabetically and apart. If they wanted them together they should’ve named them accordingly. I am not a crackpot.) Anyway, so I insisted they be separated, but I never realized until just recently that Batman Begins was missing because, until I’d come up to The Dark Knight, I’d completely forgotten it existed. No disrespect to Katie Holmes.

I also never got around to buying The Dark Knight Rises, despite my undying love for Anne Hathaway as Catwoman (I AM NOT A CRACKPOT), because … reasons, probably. (You might say this would’ve been easily ascertained upon my next post, but since blu-rays are in an entirely different section of my shelving for sizing conformity, that’s not necessarily the case. After all, I still own the first two Toy Story movies from the DVD set I bought ages ago, but Toy Story 3 I have on blu-ray. Sadly, I can’t just upgrade all my old DVDs to blu-ray and be done with it, though it is in my Top 5 list of things to do once I win the Powerball. But I digress.)

Fortunately, it matters not that I lack Batman Begins and The Dark Knight Rises, because The Dark Knight is indisputably the best movie of the three. Batman Begins has all kinds of setup and mythology work to do with zen master / criminal Liam Neeson, plus there’s the whole problem of silly Katie Holmes being completely out of her element. (No disrespect to Katie Holmes.) The Dark Knight Rises has Bane with an even goofier voice than Batman’s, plus Marion Cotillard’s distracting forehead mole. (She’s lovely, really, and great in the film, but it drives me nuts.) The Dark Knight, on the other hand, has Maggie Gyllenhaal taking over the character of Rachel Dawes from goofy Katie Holmes, flat-out refusing to be part of Bruce Wayne’s (Christian Bale) revolving door of women, instead choosing to give her heart to the upstanding Harvey Dent (Aaron Eckhart), Harvey Dent being charismatic and clever until he becomes terrifyingly broken and angry and insane, and Heath Ledger as The Joker, blowing all our minds.

Gyllenhaal is a strong presence, and she holds her ground well against Bale’s multiple identities and Harvey’s charming arrogance. She also portrays Rachel as a powerful prosecutor and a woman with more courage and resolve than anyone else in the film. Eckhart, meanwhile, is solid in his role as Dent — a decisive man with both a purpose and a playful side — but it’s his transformation into Two-Face that is mesmerizing, and not just for the unbelievable effects work they did on him. Ledger, though, is a force of nature.

There have been plenty of thinkpieces about the seeming abandon with which Ledger inhabits his role, and I agree with all of them on his brilliant and riveting performance. It’s so far beyond what anyone expected he was capable of, I think, that it worsens the pain of his untimely death even more.

The Joker is a menacing madman, sure, but what I find most fascinating is his genius and calculating nature. The Joker doesn’t just go around wreaking havoc — there’s a method to his madness. This is possibly best evidenced (if most subtly so) by the way he always makes up a new story for how he got his scars, knowing that people will be curious but  also knowing it should be a sufficiently crazy story to ensure people of his insanity — as if he’s not actually crazy at all. He kills at will, but not randomly. He murders his disciples as he sees fit, to further his cause and to cut any and all ties to himself. He kills others as a means to an end, attempting to provoke or evade his enemies. He goes after Rachel and Harvey to corrupt the seemingly incorruptible — to make a point, to send a message, not just for kicks.  And he manipulates people to kill innocents to underline that same message, that people are inherently selfish and will always act in their own interests over those of the greater good. Indeed, the movie gets a fair amount of side-eye about its use of invasive surveillance for “the good of the people,” but the part I find most fascinating is the stand-off between the two ferries, in which neither group of hostages chooses to sacrifice the other in order to save themselves. In that one moment, writer-director brothers Jonathan and Christopher Nolan (the latter performing all the directing duties, but collaborating on the script) are saying The Joker is wrong, and that people do have it in them to be noble and to do what is right. Amid all the bleakness that can be found in these films, that’s an incredibly positive and powerful statement to me. Have faith in people, because most of them are worth it.

The Dark Knight is also pretty spectacular because of the supremely badass way the Batcycle evolved out of the busted up Batmobile and then managed to do all sorts of switching, changing maneuvers like a boss. It’s without a doubt my favorite gadget in a pretty fantastically gadget-heavy flick. There’s also the matter of Alfred (Michael Caine) and Lucius Fox (Morgan Freeman) being both supportive co-conspirators and sort of snidely disapproving fathers to Bruce’s schemes. They provide an amusing and centered perspective that counters the overwhelming self-seriousness of everyone else (no-joke policy or no, this movie actually has several remarks played for laughs). (Gary Oldman as Commissioner Gordon is also something of a co-conspirator, despite not knowing Batman’s true identity, but he’s a much more solemn and determined one.) And huge props are due to the set designers, who gave the Joker a semi-truck for a particularly exciting car chase scene. The truck’s trailer says “LAUGHTER IS THE BEST MEDICINE,” and there’s a spray-painted S at the beginning, so it says “SLAUGHTER IS THE BEST MEDICINE.” That’s some straight-up genius work right there, and if more Oscar voters had noticed it, maybe it would’ve won that prize.

All in all, I’m pretty satisfied that if I had to own only one of these Nolan-helmed Batman flicks, it would be this one. The performances and story are at their strongest, the stakes are their highest, and Bruce still doesn’t get the girl, but not for the reason he thinks. (No disrespect to Katie Holmes.)