MY MOVIE SHELF: Sense and Sensibility

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: 202  Days to go: 142

Movie #236:  Sense and Sensibility

Perfect, perfect, beautiful movie. Sense and Sensibility gets better each time I watch it, and I’ve watched it a lot. Although not her film debut, this was my introduction to Kate Winslet (though sadly also my introduction to her unfortunate and unflattering tight curls) and the solidification of my esteem for Emma Thompson. It was a return to my favor for Hugh Grant, whose films since Four Weddings and a Funeral had been disappointments. And it was a complete overhaul of my image of Alan Rickman, who went from suave villain in Die Hard to quietly suffering romantic hero here. Most of all, though, it’s given me a lifetime of breathlessly shouting “Willoughby” across a crowded room.

Sense and Sensibility is a tale of sisters — Elinor (Thompson) and Marianne (Winslet) — diametrically opposed in personalities by forever bonded by love. Elinor is the oldest daughter and assumes a lot of the responsibility of the family after their father passes away and they are forced out of their home. She is reserved and practical, and while she unexpectedly finds herself falling for her sister-in-law’s brother Edward Ferrars (Grant), she is bound by decorum and common sense not to make a fool of herself over him. She is disappointed, of course, when they part, but he’s made no declarations and no promises, so she has no choice but to carry on with her life.

Marianne, on the other hand, wears her heart on her sleeve. She is all passionate enthusiasm or crushing disappointment, depending on circumstance. She understands the conventions of society, but when it comes to matters of the heart, she has no respect for them. To her, to hide one’s feelings is to lie. So when she meets the older, staid Colonel Brandon (Rickman), she makes no effort to hide her disinterest, and when the dashing John Willoughby (Greg Wise, who Thompson was smart enough to take up with and eventually marry for herself) emerges from the mist like a hero straight out of a romance novel, again Marianne sees no point in hiding her infatuation. When a mysterious scandal sends Willoughby to London, however, and Marianne meets up with him some time later at a ball, she is devastated by his cold regard. Further, when it is revealed that he has abandoned his intent to propose to her in favor of marrying an heiress, Marianne’s depression and despair engulf her.

Over the course of the film, both sisters suffer for their loves and both learn from the other. Elinor finally is able to express her grief over the loss of Edward, in a scene as heart-wrenching as anything Marianne could conjure, and Marianne learns to respect the steadfast constancy of Colonel Brandon, whose affection for her is no less ardent, and whose commitment to her is far more reliable. And while Marianne’s new romance is calm and caring, Elinor’s emotional outburst and learning that Edward is, in fact, not married to the former Lucy Steele (Imogen Stubbs), who married his brother instead, is a moment of raucous laughter and tears combined. It’s a heartwarming and wholly satisfying end.

The primary characters are all fabulous, and the supporting characters are great as well. Mrs. Dashwood (Gemma Jones) has an incredible collection of hats. Charlotte Palmer (Imelda Staunton) is a bouncy, twittering nightmare, while her Hugh Laurie as her husband, the biting Mr. Palmer, makes me cackle with glee at his open contempt for her gossiping frivolity. Fanny Dashwood (Harriet Walter) is essentially perfect as the snobbish and selfish and greedy antagonist to her husband’s half-sisters. And the fact that Margaret Dashwood (Emilie François) doesn’t have her own spinoff of pirate adventures makes me want to write one myself.

Emma Thompson is basically my hero, and I love that she adapted this screenplay herself. It’s sharp and affecting and expertly paced. Ang Lee’s gorgeous direction makes it easily one of the most beautiful, best films of its release year, and it frustrates me no end that Thompson’s screenplay was the only one awarded an Oscar. In my heart, it deserves so much more.

MY MOVIE SHELF: Love Actually

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: 205  Days to go: 209

Movie #172:  Love Actually

Last year Love Actually turned 10, and I found out there are a lot more mixed feelings about the movie than I ever would’ve predicted. Is it a Christmas movie or is it not a Christmas movie? Is it ridiculous or whimsical? Does it not have enough sex in it? Honestly, it’s much ado about nothing as far as I’m concerned. I consider it a Christmas movie, but I could actually watch it whenever, and it’s clearly a whimsical film, filled with playfulness and hope and small fantasy elements. And I actually think the implications of sex and the disappointing denials of sex make the film a more powerful statement overall. To paraphrase a certain lovesick guy impersonating a Christmas caroler, to me, it is perfect.

An ensemble film that traces the lives of several loosely connected Londoners in the weeks leading up to Christmas, Love Actually delves into the ways love is held, lost, denied, promised, hoped for and realized. It’s silly and funny and lovely and heartbreaking and great, all rolled into one, but while the aggregate is fantastic, Love Actually excels in tiny moments. Here are my favorites:

Nobody talks about Love Actually without talking about Emma Thompson’s devastating portrayal of Karen, opening up her Christmas gift to find the necklace she was expecting to receive from her husband (having chanced upon it in his pocket a week before), was instead a Joni Mitchell CD. Utterly humiliated and heartbroken, she still has to hold herself together in front of her children. It’s Christmas Eve and they’re about to go to the kids’ school play, after all; she can’t fall apart, can’t confront her husband (Alan Rickman), can’t curl up in a ball until New Year’s. She hides her shock and outrage, excuses herself for a moment, and quietly loses it in her bedroom. It captures perfectly that gut punch feeling of betrayal, that suffocation that comes over you. And the movie follows it up with another perfect moment, when she does confront Harry after the concert, she says it’s not just him who’s the fool because he’s made a fool out of her as well, “and the life I lead look foolish too.” That’s the line that gets me, for it carries the full weight of infidelity, when everything you know about your life can be rendered false in an instant. A heavy moment, and yet it doesn’t darken the film. Simply perfect.

Then there’s Hugh Grant as the new Prime Minister. The mutual attraction between him and Natalie (Martine McCutcheon) is sparkling, and I really enjoy his confusion at everyone calling her chubby. He’s even steely and resolute with Billy Bob Thornton as the U.S. President. But when he starts dancing around to “Jump” by The Pointer Sisters, I can’t help but squeal with delight. If there’s anything more appealing than Hugh Grant being a dick, it’s Hugh Grant dancing badly. I am not kidding.

My next favorite character is Colin Frissell (Kris Marshall), and I’m not kidding about that either. His entire scheme to go to Wisconsin to meet easy American girls and be the God of Sex he was always destined to be is hilarious and, in its fantasy-world way, kind of spot-on about how an ordinary guy somewhere can go somewhere completely different and become infinitely more interesting, almost on the strength of his accent alone. Okay, so if you do this you’re probably not going to meet January Jones and Elisha Cuthbert and Shannon Elizabeth and Denise Richards and Ivana Milicevic — all sexed up and ready to go since they’re “not the richest of girls” and have to sleep naked in a single bed — but it’s the hope fulfilled for Colin that makes it so great. And the best part? Screaming in Heathrow Airport, “and he’s got a big NOB,” (complete with hand gesture estimation of size).

And the pop-up live rendition of “All You Need Is Love” at the wedding of Juliet (Kiera Knightly) and Peter (Chiwetel Ejiofor) is splendid, but Juliet’s face as she realizes Peter’s best friend Mark (Andrew Lincoln) took video of only her, is surprised and flattered and also sad. And then Mark tears up and I just want to hug them both.

There’s also the porn stand-ins, played by Martin Freeman and Joanna Page, who spend all day in various states of undress, miming sex acts with each other, and yet they’re so timid and hesitant about feeling each other out on a personal level and eventually dating. It’s the cutest thing ever.

Or how Aurelia (Lucia Moniz) learns English for Jamie (Colin Firth) “just in cases.”

Or Bill Nighy as faded rock star Billy Mack, singing his crappy Christmas song, naked, on live TV, thrusting into his guitar.

Or stupid, stupid Sarah (Laura Linney) putting her brother in some assisted living center where he’s allowed to call her every hour of the day, as many times as he wants, and not allowing a moment to herself, especially when gorgeous, nearly-naked, understanding, patient and totally, uncomprehendingly into her Karl (Rodrigo Santoro) is right there in her bed begging her not to answer.

Or Daniel (Liam Neeson) bumping into Carol (Claudia Schiffer) and getting all tongue-tied because she looks just like Claudia Schiffer.

Or the jewelry store clerk (Rowan Atkinson) distracting an airport gate attendant so Sam (Thomas Brodie-Sangster) runs to tell Joanna (Olivia Olson) how he feels about her.

Or Joanna’s perfect rendition of “All I Want For Christmas Is You.”

Love Actually is a delightful movie that warms my heart and makes me feel good, and it has so many great moments to savor. It makes me deliriously happy. I honestly can’t think of a single reason not to love it to pieces.