Hillbilly Elegy: A Review (Review #1430)

HILLBILLY ELEGY

My Mom (RIP) always thought the term for poor white rural mountain folk was "hilly-billy". She probably thought this because she thought it would/should rhyme, in the same way she kept calling the 1970's sitcom The Brady Brunch vs. The Brady Bunch. That came to mind while watching Hillbilly Elegy, a film that attempts to tell what should be a serious story but that bizarrely ends up almost mocking the very people it is meant to ennoble. 

Shifting from 1997 and 2011, Hillbilly Elegy covers the memories of J.D. Vance (Gabriel Basso as an adult, Owen Asztalos as a child). As an adult, he is at Yale Law School, uncomfortably mixing with the elites and romancing pretty fellow student Usha (Freida Pinto).

As a child though, he grew up in Appalachia among what were once called "poor white trash". There's his unstable man-loving mother Bev (Amy Adams), his no-nonsense grandmother Mamaw (Glenn Close) and his longsuffering sister Lindsay (Haley Bennett). Bev is volatile to say the least: one moment cheerful and loving, the next moment hysterical and violent. 

The past comes to haunt J.D. when on the cusp of having a second interview for a major law firm, Lindsay calls asking he come back to help with Bev, who has overdosed again. As he makes the mad commute between New Haven, Connecticut and Middletown, Ohio, he recalls the life he led among the poor kinfolk and the tough love Mamaw meted out while attempting to hold on to his future. Eventually, J.D. finds a delicate balance between his hick past and posh present.

It's a strange thing that while I figure both the book and film adaptation meant to be respectful of poor whites, the final result of Hillbilly Elegy ended up making the Vance family look freakish, comical, garish. The entire family came across looking like caricatures of "poor white trash" versus fully-formed albeit economically disadvantaged people. The worst of the lot is Adams, who gave perhaps the worst performance of her career in some misguided effort to win the Oscar she has continuously failed to.

She was comical in her hysterics, the wild shifts and overall broadness of her performance. Scenes that were intended as shocking or heartbreaking instead became hilarious in a bad, almost camp way. There's a sequence where she angrily beats J.D. so psychotically that he fled the car to the nearest house and resulted in the police handcuffing her. Instead of being horrified by this, the overall effect is one of laughter.

To be fair to Adams, director Ron Howard made her do things and crafted scenes that I doubt any actress could have made work. We see Nurse Bev's "descent" into drug use by seeing her roller-skate down the hospital hallway and giggling while Bananarama's Cruel Summer is playing. 

With this sequence, you begin to wonder if it's Howard and screenwriter Vanessa Taylor who are the ones that are high. You watch this sequence in almost stunned disbelief, marveling how experts could see this and not think it wouldn't look funny at the least, an almost literal fever dream at worst.

Adams clearly wants an Oscar win after six failed nominations, but she really should pray she doesn't get a nomination because it would then put her at seven loses, tying her costar Close for most nominations without a win. Adams' scenery-chewing would normally make her an also-ran for awards but the sheer desperation in her performance may elicit almost a sympathy vote.

Hillbilly Elegy may get Close an eighth nomination and maybe her very first win, but it would be a de facto Lifetime Achievement Award because like her fellow frustrated nominee Adams her Mamaw is more oddball than realistic. At the end of the film, we do see footage of the real Vance family, and to her credit Close captures the mannerisms of her real-life counterpart.

That's just the problem though: Close gave a technically strong performance, but Mamaw still came across as caricature than character, let alone real-life person. The large glasses and clothes look closer to a spoof than a serious drama. I left Hillbilly Elegy thinking Close looked more hilarious than heartfelt, as if in this case she knew what to do but could not make herself be. I was thoroughly unimpressed, and my sense is that she, like Adams, could get nominations out of this but even then, Academy members would genuinely pause to ask, "Do we really want them to win for this?"

Asztalos did what he could with the role, attempting to make J.D.'s early life one that audiences would care about. He was better than Basso, whose J.D. came across as blank at best. Asztalos had some good moments, such as a long argument with Mamaw about a calculator, but Hillbilly Elegy opted to sacrifice subtlety about J.D. and the Vance family.

There's almost an arrogance, intended or not, about J.D. We see this when he is with Mamaw. He wants to see Meet the Press. She'd rather watch Terminator 2: Judgment Day. As directed by Howard and scripted by Taylor, it makes clear that J.D. is "intelligent" and his family are "hicks". HE wants to be informed and pursues knowledge of the world. His family wants to be entertained. The film makes it almost as if he is a lotus blossom growing among the muck of yahoos.

Hillbilly Elegy is misguided, as if made by people who look upon the subject as coming from another world. Perhaps in that way, it is not too far off the mark.       

DECISION: D+

The Wife: A Review (Review #1195)

THE WIFE

It was not meant to be.

The Wife may be remembered as the film that earned Glenn Close her seventh Oscar nomination, giving her the dubious honor of being the most nominated actress yet to win an Oscar as of this writing. The Wife is a showcase for Close's extraordinary talent and deserves better than just being a footnote to her also-ran record.

Joan Castleman (Close) has been with her husband, celebrated author Joseph (Jonathan Pryce) for thirty-plus years. One night, a hoped-for call comes in: Joseph has won the Nobel Prize for Literature. While both are elated, Joan's elation is mixed with slowly-building regret and even anger.

As the Castlemans, along with their son David (Max Irons) go to Stockholm to accept the prize, they are also joined by Nathanial Bone (Christian Slater). He, like David, has not had success as a writer. Nathanial wants to write Joseph's biography, which Joseph and Joan won't agree to, especially since both do not want Joseph's numerous affairs exposed.

That's not the only thing neither wants exposed. The Wife both in present-time and flashbacks to 1958 when writing student Joan Archer (Annie Stark) and her married professor Joseph Castleman (Harry Lloyd) met and had an affair slowly reveals that it was Joan, not Joseph, who wrote the novels. Bone suspects as much but cannot prove it, with Joan not giving an inch. She, however, grows to no longer be willing to go along with things, especially after Joseph comes close to yet another infidelity in Stockholm.

Things ultimately explode the night of the Nobel Prize ceremony, where David confronts his parents about Bone's contentions and Joseph's praising of Joan rub salt on the wound. Joan finally lets out her decades of frustration, and in their confrontation Joseph suffers a heart attack. Flying back to America, the Widow Castleman tells Nathanail if he publishes his suspicions, she will sue. She also tells David that she will tell all to him and his sister, who has just given birth.

The Wife answers a critical question that the viewer has: why would Joan start, continue and go along with this subterfuge for decades? It begins with a small but critical role for Elizabeth McGovern as Elaine Mozell, the rare female author from the college where Joseph teaches. Despite Joan's talent, 'a writer needs to be read', and Elaine points out that the publishers, the critics and reviewers, the editors and agents are all men. As such, Joan might get published but would be ignored by both the influence-makers and the general public.

This is also compounded by Joan's own conflicting emotions: guilt over the affair that cost Joseph's first marriage and separation from his other daughter, the desire to be read even if through a front, the manipulation from Joseph that he was a form of inspiration to her work and perhaps just the knowledge that once the deception started, they were tied to it.

The Wife does not reveal this instantly, but takes its time to build up to the surprise carefully in Jane Anderson's adaptation of Meg Wolitzer's novel. Once we know the truth, or at least begin suspecting it, we see how Joan starts taking stock of things. She sees that she took the avenues available to her, but that the end result has been a fraud to so many, not just the readers but her own children.

We have an upending of the traditional idea of 'the wife' as supportive and loyal to her husband and a rebuke to the 'behind every great man there is a great woman' notion. The personal and professional sacrifices Joan makes drives The Wife to being a strong portrait of a woman.

Close is absolutely brilliant in the film, communicating so much with a glance, a look, a change in her voice. In her calm denial of Bone's allegations, in her sympathetic support for David, and finally in her quiet yet strong rage at essentially being mocked (intentionally or not) by Joseph at his Nobel speech, Close is compelling, sympathetic, heartbreaking and in her own way triumphant.

As much as The Wife is Close's show, director Bjorn L. Runge also got strong performances from the rest of his cast. Jonathan Pryce was excellent as Joseph, his mix of obliviousness and self-righteousness making Joseph into an almost sympathetic villain. He didn't play Joseph as a monster, but as a man of occasional decency who was too wrapped up in himself to accept the damage he did. Slater is a surprise in his small role as the sleazy biographer, more than holding his own against Close, with whom he spends the bulk of his screen-time. In his efforts to shake the truth out of her, Slater is a menace without being menacing.

Irons could have been the weak point, but he rises above the cliche of 'the angry son who couldn't measure up to his father'. The role would be the limiting thing for him because it is a cliche, but Irons has a strong moment in the end when confronting both his parents, the decades of frustration about  his stalled career and disconnection from his parents finally released.

It's a pity The Wife got only a limited run, for it's a film that should be widely seen. It's also a pity that Close lost again, for The Wife would have been a strong performance to win regardless of Close's dismal Oscar record.

This is not the place to say whether she should have won for The Wife or whether The Wife is her best performance ever. I have found that Glenn Close rarely if ever gives a bad performance.  This is the place to say that The Wife is a strong film, well-acted with a story perhaps more relevant today given the climate.

DECISION: B+ 

Dangerous Liaisons: A Review

DANGEROUS LIAISONS

I was obviously too young to see Dangerous Liaisons when it premiered, this wicked tale of French decadence and sexual one-upmanship not being considered proper family viewing.  Of course, I'm also from an age when parents didn't take their children to films unless they were family films (or marketed as such, thus explaining why I suffered the traumas of both Gremlins and Indiana Jones & The Temple of Doom).  Back when I was a child, if your parents wanted to go to the movies, they either hired a babysitter or left you with relatives for a few hours while they went out.  Nowadays, parents opt to take their children no matter how young with them to see a movie the parents want to see, even if it's to see things as varied as Fifty Shades of Grey or Insidious or Deadpool.  With that, something like Dangerous Liaisons is downright virginal. 

Dangerous Liaisons is a sharp, intelligent film about the dark side of love and seduction, how the players can get played themselves, and how love can be deadly to those who fall into it.

The Marquise de Merteuil (Glenn Close), a sexual adventuress, wants revenge on the Comte de Bastide, the lover who jilted her.  She asks her equally nefarious 'friend', the Vicomte de Valmont (John Malkovich) to seduce her ex-lover's fiancée, Cecile (Uma Thurman), recently out of the convent, as a way of punishing and humiliating him.  Valmont finds the whole thing rather boring and beneath him, stating that seducing a convent-educated girl who knows nothing of the world (or the pleasures of the flesh) would be far too easy.  He has his eyes on a real challenge: seducing Madame de Tourvel (Michelle Pfeiffer), a respected and respectable woman known for her fidelity and piety.  To have such a truly noble woman, a woman whose reputation is above-board even among the decadent French, as one of his many, many lovers is for him the ultimate challenge.  A secret deal is arranged: if Valmont succeeds in seducing de Tourvel (with written proof of their liaison), Merteuil will indulge Valmont with the pleasure of her company.

Now the two begin their wicked, wicked work.  Valmont takes advantage of the fact that de Tourvel is staying with his aunt, Madame de Rosemonde (Mildred Natwick) and takes a very different approach to his efforts at seduction.  Rather than use his usual tricks, he will seduce her with sincerity and piety.  Valmont professes love to de Tourvel, declaring that his love for her has redeemed him from his former past.  No dice, de Tourvel essentially says, for she has been warned about Valmont.  He is frustrated in his efforts, and gets his manservant to seduce de Tourvel's maid to get at Madame's correspondence.  Valmont learns who has been doing the warning: it is Cecile's mother, Madame de Volanges (Swoosie Kurtz), Merteuil's cousin.  Enraged by this, he opts to seduce Cecile as payback, and does so quickly.

De Volanges notices that something is amiss with her daughter, and asks Merteuil for help.  She knows nothing of the fact that Merteuil has been playing a wicked game of her own.  Having failed to get Valmont's help initially, she opts to take matters into her own hands by bringing the Chevalier Danceny (Keanu Reeves), a poor music teacher and intellectual, into the de Volanges residence.  Soon, her machinations get them to fall in love.  Merteuil then sweeps in and suggests that a 'dangerous liaison' between Danceny and Cecile has begun.  That is what sent them to take refuge with Madame de Rosemonde.  Now, after Valmont's seduction, Merteuil sweeps in and gives Cecile her own womanly advise: to take as many lovers as she can, and let Valmont be her 'tutor' in the art of pleasure.

Valmont continues to whittle down de Tourvel's resistance until she has fallen in love with him and sleeps with him.  However, Valmont has done something he has never done with any woman before: he has fallen in love with de Tourvel as well.  This does not dissuade him from going to Merteuil for her to keep her side of the bargain, but after learning that his feelings run deeper for de Tourvel than she hoped (and perhaps with anger that he doth not have those feelings for her), she refuses to sleep with him, using the lack of written proof as pretext.  It is clear (except perhaps to Valmont) that her refusal comes more from anger and jealousy than from the strict rules of their bargain. Merteuil has wasted no time for her own pursuits, having seduced Danceny into being her newest lover.

The war between Valmont and Merteuil continues, and she taunts him by subtly suggesting that should it be known that he has fallen in  love with someone, his reputation as a lothario will be wrecked.  In his mixture of emotions, Valmont dismisses de Tourvel with the constant refrain of "It is beyond my control".  Guilt-ridden and hurt, de Tourvel retreats to a convent and becomes violently ill.  Merteuil continues to refuse Valmont, and has gone further by informing Danceny of Valmont's seduction of Cecile.  Angered, he challenges Valmont to a duel...and wins.  As Valmont lays dying, his final requests are that Danceny tell the dying de Tourvel that she has his heart, and for him to make public the correspondence between him and Merteuil, revealing all their schemes.  When the truth is revealed, particularly the fact that she had a firm hand in de Tourvel's death (she essentially dying of a broken heart), she is socially ruined.  Attending the opera in her finest, the theater first goes silent at her appearance, then one "boo" turns into mass hisses from the theater at large (even the orchestra joins in).  Humiliated and socially disgraced, the Marquise de Merteuil removes her make-up, and as the screen fades to black, we can see tears slowly coming down her face.

Beneath the lavish costumes and sets of Dangerous Liaisons is a seedy story of two reprehensible people done in by the one force they deny: love.  Despite themselves, Valmont and Merteuil have discovered what love is, and both are destroyed by it.  Valmont is destroyed when he falls in love, Merteuil when she denies it.  It's a universal story, and one of the things that make the film work is the cast.

Glenn Close is brilliant as the Marquise de Merteuil because we see that behind her elegance and sophistication is a deeply hurt and angry woman.  She is frustrated by the strictness of French society on women and has decided to use the only weapon she has at her disposal: her body, keeping her heart locked.  It is Merteuil's hubris, her contempt for the emotions and feelings of others that ultimately bring her down, especially when she discovers that she is as vulnerable to love as those she plays with.  Close brings both the wickedness of Merteuil and her deep vulnerability to her performance, and it is a showcase for her range.

Malkovich is a surprise choice for the rakish Valmont given he isn't what can be called traditionally handsome.  That, however, is part of the brilliance of his performance.  It would be easy to believe that a gorgeous-looking man (say a Ryan Phillippe or a Channing Tatum...assuming Tatum could actually act) could be a seducer.  It is harder to think the more plain-looking Malkovich could be.  The fact that he could do it, and do it so well, is a credit to the fine actor that he is (making the failure of the Academy to not nominate him for Best Actor while giving Close and Pfeiffer two of the film's seven Oscar nominations all the more bizarre).

Pfeiffer is equally brilliant as the virtuous Madame de Tourvel, making her strong moral character's fall and tragic end all the more heartbreaking.  Pfeiffer is a beautiful woman, but I think her performance here should silence any critic who thinks her beauty alone is what carries her career.

Stephen Frears (who also was overlooked Oscar time) directed his cast (including Reeves and Thurman, who were newcomers, along with a small role for future Doctor Who Peter Capaldi) so well.  He kept things going smoothly where the film doesn't feel like a stuffed costume drama or a slog.

Dangerous Liaisons (which was remade and updated as Cruel Intentions) is still a strong case on the evils of using sex as a weapon against others, especially when said weapon is outdone by a more powerful one: love.  Love and Sex don't always go together, and today even less so.  While the film can be appreciated for its ancien regime setting, the core of Dangerous Liaisons is in the cruelty of people who toy with other's affection...and how payback can be quite brutal.    

DECISION: A-

Albert Nobbs: A Review (Review #398)

ALBERT NOBBS

After I finished watching Albert Nobbs, I wondered if the fact that the main character was a woman passing as a man would have made any difference to the story itself.  In other words, if Albert really HAD been a man, would it had made the story more tragic?  I think if we got rid of the gender-bending aspect of the story, Albert Nobbs would have been a somber character study of a deeply repressed man.  However, because the main issue is that Albert is really a woman in drag, it gives the story an added but not overwhelming twist.

Albert (Glenn Close) is the model of efficiency and discretion as a waiter at a Dublin hotel which I imagine has seen better days.  While its clientele has the occasional Viscount, it isn't exactly the Irish version of the Ritz or Waldorf (or my idea of posh, the Doubletree--what can I say, I'm middle-class).  Albert is a quiet man who keeps to himself a lot, but he is secretly squirreling away his money.  He dreams of opening up a tobacco shop and is coming closer to having enough to buy one.

However, there is a hitch, one that we discover when painter Hubert Page comes late one night and is told to share a room with Albert.  Hubert (and the audience) discovers that Albert is really a woman!  Hubert appears more amused than shocked by this discovery, but Albert is all but falling apart.  Hubert's nonchalant manner is quickly uncovered (no pun intended): he shows Albert that he has larger breasts than he does.  That's right: Hubert is ALSO a woman!

Albert is both horrified and intrigued by Hubert's successful cross-dressing.  However, there are other things going on at Morrison's Hotel.  Maid Helen Dawes (Mia Wasikowska), a vivacious, flirtatious young thing, has fallen for Irish rogue/handyman Joe Mackins (Aaron Johnson).  He is a man who lives by his wits and loves in a fly-by-night manner, and soon Helen falls under his spell.  Joe wants to go to America but doesn't have the money for voyage even in steerage.  With the promise of taking her with him, Joe gets Helen to agree to be courted by Albert.

Albert, becoming entranced with the idea that he might have a new life with a new wife (not unlike Hubert, who amazingly is married to a biological woman), had settled on Helen.  Helen isn't at first keen on any of this, but she can be bought with nice things.  Albert also has an ulterior motive: marriage will keep his cover. 

Helen, however, gets knocked up.  Despite this, she still rejects Albert's proposals, and we end Albert Nobbs with him gone, Hubert's wife dead of typhoid, and Helen an unwed mother.  Still, we do end with a faint glimmer of hope. 

If anything, Albert Nobbs is a showcase for the formidable acting talents of both Glenn Close and especially Janet McTeer.  Close plays Albert as a person (it is hard to say 'man' or 'woman') who is so afraid of being discovered that he decided long ago that it was best to work at being inconspicuous.  Sometimes, I will grant, that Close's blank, almost mummified facial expression forces one to suppress the giggles, but I will say that this might have been the intention.  Close's performance is excellent: she plays Albert as not just a woman passing for a man (and being mostly successful), but as a person who has locked herself into a fantasy world.  When we see how she imagines the tobacco shop, there is a light in the eyes that expresses so much of the yearning for happiness she as Albert has long denied herself.

It really is McTeer who runs away with the film.  She is more mannish in her behavior as Hubert.  While Close's Albert at times both physically and vocally on occasion appears to be a woman, McTeer's body movement and voice is more convincing in her efforts to be masculine.  She moves with no feminine grace but with the confidence of a working man, and while it is clear she's a woman, McTeer never drops the pretense that in Hubert's mind, she is a man. 

We see this perfectly after Hubert has lost his wife.  Nobbs goes to their home to see if they are still alive.  To see what being a woman is like, they don dresses for probably the first time in years if not decades.  The scene plays almost as if they, dressed as women, are in drag then rather than wearing trousers. 

It is also in this scene where McTeer, describing the loss of his Cathleen, gives Hubert a sadness that makes the scene more powerful.  It is a simply brilliant performance.

As one who reads this site knows, my love for Mia Wasikowska knows no bounds.  She is simply one of if not the best young actress working today, and in Albert Nobbs we see more of her range.  Her Helen is a shameless flirt, a bit of a gold-digger, but one who is also not immune from falling for the wrong guy when the better prospect is staring her in the face (sometimes literally).  I've heard her with an American accent (The Kids Are All Right), a British accent (Jane Eyre), and now an Irish accent.  She IS our generation's Meryl Streep and hope she soon has a star-making breakout role her talents demand.   She has us run through a range of emotions: fondness at her joie de vivre, dislike at how she manipulates Albert, sadness at how she is manipulated, and sorrow seeing her with a child, no husband, and close to being thrown out.

Johnson has earned my dislike for Kick-Ass (though I congratulate him for getting the accent right--like Wasikowska).  Still, we knew from the get-go that Joe was going to be nothing but trouble, and his performance was exactly what was needed: someone who could charm the pantaloons off a girl but whom we should have known was simply too selfish to be any good.

Director Rodrigo Garcia kept the story flowing (even if at times the film could have benefited from having a little bit more lightness rather than being so heavy in its somber tone).  In the technical aspects the set designs and costumes were good in the Downton Abbey-like atmosphere they created, but given how Morrison's was, I did wonder whether the Viscount (Jonathan Rhys Meyers) was slumming it a bit to be staying at a place that didn't look all that posh. 

Albert Nobbs is a sad film, and I think it was meant to be that way.  This tale of woe of a woman who has dived into her 'role' as a man so deeply that she thinks of herself as "Albert" and "Albert" only does have one or two curiosities.  For example, how is it that no one ever wondered how Albert might be a little strange?  Furthermore, the character of Cathleen is confusing.  How did Mrs. Page NOT realize Hubert was a woman?  She either was a lesbian, extremely understanding, or just incredibly stupid to never know or realize that Hubert had bigger breasts than she did.  The character of Viscount (who to put it delicately, appears to be a fan of Oscar Wilde) appears to be more a nice cameo than anything important to the plot. 

However, I found Albert Nobbs entertaining and a thought-provoking film about a person's true identity: their gender or how they see each other.  Granted, whether "Albert" actually fell in love with Helen or with the idea of Helen is never answered, but despite the flaws it has, Albert Nobbs is a great showcase for talented actresses Close, McTeer, and Wasikowska--no matter what they wear.

DECISION: B-