{film} the descendants

I didn’t know much if anything as to what The Descendants (2011) was supposed to be about when it was released end of last year. I didn’t connect the director Alexander Payne with Sideways (2004) or About Schmidt (2002), etc. I thought it was a mainstream Hollywood film wrought with conflict and humor that would ultimately dance its way to an easily happy ending. My mistake for interpreting its Award Nominations and Wins with such an idea. For some reason, I didn’t follow curiosity over the trailers’ ambiguities with movie reviews at Roger Ebert’s site, or The New York Times. Carl V over at “Stainless Steel Droppings,” mentioned the film was more Art House than Hollywood, and I knew I would see it. And to be truthful, the experience is easier when your expectation is that the film is traditional Hollywood fare. As A.O. Scott notes, “the most striking and satisfying aspects of The Descendants are its unhurried pace and loose, wandering structure.” If you are not into unhurried and wandering, the film will drive you up the wall. As it is, The Descendants requires the attentive viewer who engages in helping the film create greater meaning and in ultimately interpreting its full story.

Matt King’s wife had a boating (race) accident which throws her into an irreversible coma. He must not only come to grips with the loss of her, he must find ways to tell their daughters, family, friends–and the man with whom Elizabeth King was having an affair–a revelation provided by his eldest daughter who caught her mother in the act. Ever the “back-up” parent, Matt must now deal with the knowledge he is now the only parent–of daughters. The eldest, Alexandra (“Alex”) at 17, her mother’s daughter, is brought home from boarding school; where she is tucked away to be rehabilitated from drug- and alcohol-abuse, and promiscuous behavior. The youger, Scottie at 10, is essentially ignored and left to the endemic that is the sexuality-obsessed female grade-schooler of today.

Matt King isn’t just your average citizen of non-paradise, but a successful real estate attorney, heir of Hawaii’s last queen, and current sole trustee of a 25,000 acre tract of virgin land on Kuau’i. He and the cousins are concurrently trying to figure out to whom to sell, before their hand is forced by a rule against perpetuities.

The Descendants moves through the slow disintegration and death of Matt’s marriage, his wife’s condition, the land that is his legacy–paradise, childhood, wildness and beauty. Simultaneously and just as quietly, it follows the slow healing of a father’s relationship with his daughters, the legacy of memory and culture, of family, of love.

The focus of the narrative does not move from Matt King (George Clooney) as central protagonist. It only shows and reveals that which is of import to Matt’s story and progression throughout the film. While no other character is unremarkable or forgettable (quite the opposite), the story is, for all its scope, quite singular in focus. The film moves away once, and it is pre-opening credits with Patricia Hastie as Elizabeth King vibrant with life and joy, presumably moments before she is thrown from the boat. Otherwise, every meeting with a new or other character is subject to the movement of the plot (and its segues). The youngest (Amara Miller) will be introduced and established, and then disappear or become hardly consequential until 20-30 minutes later. The eldest (Shailene Woodley) comes on screen, and spends a good amount of time satisfying the plot, but she is as easily set aside when necessary. None of the transitions feel forced or callous, but noticeably different–especially considering how much characterization is built in mere moments and via brilliant acting.

The Descendants spends an inordinate amount of time on medium close-ups. It is kind of uncomfortable. The audience is not allowed very much distance or objectivity. You cannot sit far enough away. The Descendants is unapologetically subjective and determined to make things personal with the audience. No pretending we cannot relate on some if not most levels of what is going on. The portrait is necessarily intimate, as are the subject-matters and their implications for the characters and the audience.

Matt King: [voice-over] Paradise? Paradise can go f* itself.

The film also differs in that the people are normal and relatively unlovely by Media standards. This is likely the most frumpy and average you’ve seen Clooney in recent years (if ever). The only other beauty is the eldest Alexandra. And notably the film spends most of its footage with these two. Is it that Shailene Woodley was so riveting because she is a talented actress, or because our eyes ached for someone pretty? likely both. That they cast Amara Miller for Scottie is both culturally fitting, but also the not wiry or pale is marvelous and refreshing. Man I love her lack of self-consciousness, and her dark curly hair and those freckles! When Matt King’s opening voice-over criticizes the mis-portrayal of Hawaii as paradise, he is questioning everyone’s misperceptions of flawlessness: the islands, individuals, careers, marriages, family, childhood, legacies–everything. Flaws or break from “type”needn’t make a person, place, or thing unlovely. In fact it creates depth and saves the characters and film from the vapid.

Matt King: What is it that makes the women in my life destroy themselves?

Parallels are drawn between what is endangered.  The slow and inevitable death of the wife, who is regarded as wild and strong and irrepressible, and the virgin land. Because of the eldest’s acknowledged doubling with her mother, and her ability to mature morally (as the film progresses), we have hope of her temperance, which would ultimately mean her survival; thus we can have optimism regarding potential solutions for the land. That the youngest is no longer excluded in her connection to the land (will get to enjoy its familial legacy) and female companionship (a maternal sister), she is redirected from a destructive path. The father has decided to be a good steward rather than the distanced owner. Roles and responsibilities can be re-constituted and explored. There is time for change. There is time to revisit our choices, our pasts, presents, futures.

What it means to love is necessary explored in endangered (and even lost) relationships. To be a descendant necessitates a relationship, and it implies a legacy. The Descendants interrogates relationship and it interconnectedness. What is one’s rights and responsibilities when it comes to a legal contract, a marital one, a parental, a sexually intimate, a friendship? How does ownership and stewardship differ? The intertwining is necessary because the treatment of one subject does affect the others. How we believe it should be and how it is is laid bare. How and where do we assign value?

The Descendants visits the collision between wholeness/brokenness, old-fashioned values/cultural depravity, respect/vulgarity. It hosts a world of motherless daughters (even Elizabeth’s mom is essentially absent), where mothers are essentially memories/ghosts–a criticism I find intensely interesting. “I don’t want my daughters growing up entitled and spoiled. And I agree with my father – you give your children enough money to do something but not enough to do nothing.” Matt King says this at the beginning of the film, acquainting us with his life as he knows it. And it seems wise. But it implies an understanding he doesn’t really have. He has been the “back-up parent” and workaholic; living on cultural assumptions. The film is a study in how men have yet to adjust or confront current conditions and challenges. No, Sid, he can’t exchange his daughter for sons, however fatherless, they too, appear to be. Instead he must re-evaluate his beliefs, his understandings, and his decisions; regardless of the wide range of emotion and circumstance that gets him there. As Roger Ebert observes, director and co-writer Alexander Payne has a “special affinity for men learning to accept their better feelings.”

George Clooney. Most, including me, would say Clooney gave an incredible performance. As the film is intensely character-driven, the success of the film hangs upon its actor’s abilities. Clooney proves more than capable to emote during those long close shots.

And George Clooney? What essence does Payne see in him? I believe it is intelligence. Some actors may not be smart enough to sound convincing; the wrong actor in this role couldn’t convince us that he understands the issues involved. Clooney strikes me as manifestly the kind of actor who does. We see him thinking, we share his thoughts, and at the end of “The Descendants,” we’ve all come to his conclusions together.

Dana Stevens (for Slate) wonders if Clooney was a casting misstep. “Clooney, like Angelina Jolie, may be becoming a prisoner of his own Olympian looks and fame—even shambling around in shorts, flip-flops, and a goofy floral shirt, this man is self-evidently not a schlemiel.” Stevens’ concerns go further, and I quote it because she may have a valid point.

The script (co-written by Payne, Nat Faxon, and Jim Rash) vaguely alludes to the character’s shortcomings as a father and husband without ever fleshing them out. If a woman’s going to cheat on George Clooney with the likes of Matthew Lillard, we’d better have a good idea of why. Was Matt a workaholic, as he claims in his opening voice-over? (We certainly don’t see him spend a lot of time practicing law.) Was he a sexually withholding husband, as his perpetually angry father-in-law (a terrific Robert Forster) obnoxiously insinuates? Virtually every moment of the film is spent in the company of this character, yet we come away not really knowing who Matt King is—not because, like Paul Giamatti’s romantic misanthrope in Sideways, he’s richly self-contradictory, but simply because he’s underwritten.

We do see Matt working throughout, and he does have offers by his eager cousins to put off the sale a little longer in order to deal with the wife’s death, but Stevens does rightly observe the stereotype with which Matt’s character is culled, but never confirmed outright. Still, I felt the character too familiar to be underwritten. Was it because I was engaging in the gaps? Upon closer examination, every character is a caricature, a representative, a shadow of a familiar. Everything we learn about Elizabeth that is beautiful and not is through other people and setting. She is completely drawn via others’ actions, memories, conjecture. They (and audience) assign her value. Should Matt be exempted as the central figure? The script announces its intentions to play with expectations, thus assuming it has expectations to play with. What do you think (if you’ve seen the film)?

i feel as though this screen -still is even more vivid than I remember.

The cinematography. Director of photography Phedon Papamichael (also of Sideways) does not afford Hawaii any special glamour. He doesn’t even deepen the focus or enhance with a heightening contrast when the family is surveying their tract of land. We notice what Matt King notices. There are a few vistas (when necessary, in flight, etc.), but for the most part, the setting gets the same treatment as the human landscape, close, unflinching, and normalizing.

If you are a fan of good performances and beautiful settings and understand going in that this isn’t necessarily going to be your typical polished Hollywood offering, I suspect you will find much to like. I have actually grown to appreciate the film more after a little distance, and the end scene was worth the price of admission to me.–Carl V.

The ending. The narrative does not undergo a perfect framing. For instance, there is no closing or summarizing voice-over narration by Clooney/King. There is one, in a way, by Morgen Freeman and March of the Penguins. The excerpt was functional in that it was incredibly appropriate. There is no ‘the end,’ but a continuation; the optimism is tenuous, but present nonetheless. Other frames, like the introduction to a conflict and its eventual “resolution” do not keep an order of appearance and disappearance: land sale, coma, troubled Scottie, troubled Alex, etc. to better Alex, better Scottie, land, death. The escape from structure into wandering makes for an uncomfortable unpredictability that fits all too well the film’s themes.

There are times when you laugh or gasp in disbelief at what has just happened — an old man punches a teenager in the face; a young girl utters an outrageous obscenity; Mr. Clooney slips on a pair of boat shoes and runs, like an angry, flightless bird, to a neighbor’s house — and yet every moment of the movie feels utterly and unaffectedly true.–A.O. Scott.

The lack of affectation is uncomfortable, and carried off better than many an Art House effort; I’m especially grateful in its avoidance of resorting to mockumentary or the hand-held camera.

The Descendants(2011), directed by Alexander Payne; written by Payne, Nat Faxon, Jim Rash; based on the novel by Kaui Hart Hemmings; director of photography, Phedon Papamichael; edited by Kevin Tent; produced by Jim Burke & Payne; starring: George Clooney (Matt King), Shailene Woodley (Alexandra King), Beau Bridges (Cousin Hugh), Robert Forster (Scott Thorson), Judy Greer (Julie Speer), Matthew Lillard (Brian Speer), Nick Krause (Sid), Amara Miller (Scottie King), Mary Birdsong (Kai Mitchell), Rob Huebel (Mark Mitchell) and Patricia Hastie (Elizabeth King); released by Fox Searchlight.

Running time: 115 minutes. Rated R for for language including some sexual references.

Links & Reviews:  IMDb, Wiki, film site. Carl V. (“Stainless Steel Droppings,” Jan 2012) “The Descendants“; Dana Stevens (Slate, Nov 2011), “The Descendants: George Clooney’s immense likability, and other reasons Alexander Payne’s new film fails to deliver.”; Roger Ebert (Nov 2011) “The Descendants“; A.O. Scott (The New York Times, Nov 2011) “For One Man, Hawaii Is a Land of Problems.”

[film] Hesher

Oh, the joys of reviewing a film you would only recommend to a select few. Shall I lead with who those few are, or aren’t? Those who like a good Indie-flick where you have to work as much to define the narrative and characters as the skilled actors do. And fans of Joseph Gordon-Levitt will not be dissuaded from seeing Spencer Susser’s Hesher, though  some should consider the incredible vulgarity the anarchistic Hesher spews. To say he is obscene is a profound understatement—I am not being modest here.

Fans of Joseph Gordon-Levitt will not be disappointed by this versatile actor who is riveting as Hesher. His character is a bit of a Coyote figure. He comes from nowhere and enters T.J.’s life like a communicable disease. He is unpredictable, plays a bit of a trickster, injects an unexpected sense of rationale occasionally, and spares the odd moment for tenderness. The other characters are inexplicably drawn to him; as are audience members—such is Gordon-Levitt’s ability—to create a character this obscene and yet hold their attention. Or is that he is just some horror so fantastic we just can’t look away.

T.J. (Devin Brochu) mistakenly reveals Hesher to a housing development’s security, thus leaving the mysterious transient without a roof. So Hesher moves into the emptiness of T.J.’s home without invitation. He not only moves into T.J.’s home, but takes to following the boy. When not standing by, he carries out the socially unacceptable response to T.J.’s problems. At first I thought he was an imaginary character, a T.J. as Max and Hesher as a monster escapee from the island scenario. But he isn’t

The stellar casting of Gordon-Levitt and Brochu continues with Rainn Wilson as Paul Forney (T.J.’s father) and Piper Laurie as Madeleine/Grandmother (Paul’s mother). Paul and T.J. are grieving for a wife and mother. Paul has retreated into a depression and the grandmother does her best to nurture her son and grandson, but neither adult seem to be of much help to T.J. who is oft left to his own devices and thus vulnerable to a bully at school. As Peter Travers in Rolling Stone notes, “Wilson makes Dad’s emergence a subtle marvel.” Paul rises to consciousness in a comic and tragic way that slowly unfolds as life and feeling begin to return to the household.

The wonderful Natalie Portman rounds out the cast as Nicole, a grocery check-out clerk who also unexpectedly enters into T.J.’s life and remains as a young boy’s crush. She is the character who is determined to live and love despite the struggles of (financial) survival that living by the rules/expectations provide. Nicole’s attempts usually come with a vocalized explanation, a reason why she had to try, and with an understanding that there could be failure. In a way that isn’t only visual, she is a yin to Hesher’s yang, two halves that understand each other.

Hesher insinuates himself into the Forney household, finding a gentleness with the grandmother without surrendering his foul mouth at the door. But the dad takes increasing notice of him, especially as T.J., after a spree of vandalism with Hesher, begins to mimic Hesher’s irreverence and rage. T.J. begins to fight for himself and while it is fear-inducing, I think it also a somewhat cathartic experience. The film escalates into a tumult (yes, there is even rain) and the coming down works to collect the pieces of a nightmare waking. The dad becomes more relevant and Hesher less so, and T.J. has a “goodbye” moment  with his mother and the past. But then Hesher must return, because while he appeared out of nowhere at the beginning we need him to help provide a sense of closure? I mean, the family would have eventually found healing without him, right? Now Hesher’s needed presence and their subsequent actions need explaining.

It is a strange (and not completely believable) turn that Hesher would appear beholden to T.J. He claims it is because of the grandmother, but the sense of honor is fittingly unpredictable (?), the gifting at the end? The roof is funny, yes, but not enough to recover the Hesher Gordon-Levitt so brilliantly creates.

That the film paces a traditional narrative arc, whether we can comprehend the narrative or not, suggests some intention, some attempt to make a point. The profound realization may be as the tagline’s suggests, “Sometimes life gives you the finger and sometimes life gives you Hesher.” A story to make you feel better? I know you lost your wife and mother and the happy life you were living, but it could be worse… I know you hate the state of cultural norms, but it could be worse… Or is it closer to what the grandmother says, “Life is like walking the rain. You can hide and take cover or you can just get wet.”

Hesher didn’t seem to know how to end itself without something hokey, which is too bad; but it was consistent with the indecipherability and its vulgar metaphor. Hesher is obscene and when critics note a lack of definition to the roles and narrative in the film, they know what they are talking about. My above speculation is just that, speculation.

Hesher in the way it’s filmed isn’t inspiring enough to worry about, but the acting is. Ebert is true in his observation that “Rainn Wilson and Piper Laurie are good actors, and so for that matter is Joseph Gordon-Levitt, and here we can see what good actors do with inexplicable situations and undefined characters. In a way, this is pure acting, generated from within, not supported by a narrative framework.” The “pure acting” is perhaps the real redeeming aspect of having sat through the film. Goodness knows the metaphors do not reveal anything new—except for maybe achieving new low. (Losing a family member is like losing a left nut?)

Hesher (2011)

Directed by Spencer Susser

Produced by Natalie Portman, Spencer Susser, Morgan Susser, Lucy Cooper, Johnny Lin, Scott Prisand, Win Sheridan

Screenplay by Spencer Susser, David Michôd

Story by Brian Charles Frank

Starring : Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Rainn Wilson, Natalie Portman, Devin Brochu, and Piper Laurie

Music by Francois Tetaz

Cinematography Morgan Susser

Editing by Michael McCusker, Spencer Susser

Running time: 100 minutes

Rated R for extreme profanity, violence, and sexual situations.

IMDb page; Wiki link, which has a synopsis of the film to spare necessary viewing.

Roger Ebert’s (May 2011) Review. Stephen Holden’s NY Times (May 2011) Review : “Burn This, Curse That, Wreak Your Havoc”

TiMER

What if you could be signaled the very minute you made eye contact with your soul mate for the first time—not in a wholly biological way, that is. What if there was technology, a timer, that could be implanted into your wrist that counts down the days : hours : minutes : seconds until the day you are to meet your soul mate? And what if, when your eyes met, an alarm in said timer chimed a loud reassuring yes (or a terrifying yes)?

In TiMER such technology exists. It is fairly new, but has rapidly become a raging success, proving an accuracy too good to pass up. Unfortunately for Oona (Emma Caulfield) her TiMER has yet too show a time. Her soul mate hasn’t had his or her TiMER installed and the film begins with her dragging her 1 month relationship into a shop to remedy the problem of his “virgin wrist.” When that doesn’t turn out well (again), she is near the end of her rope, and a series of conflicts send her over the edge and into a heated affair with a younger man who has 4 months left of waiting for his “one.”

(upper l) Michelle Borth (Steph), Desmond Harrington (Dan), John Patrick Amedori (Mikey), Emma Caulfield (Oona), and Writer/Director Jac Schaeffer.

Jac Schaeffer writes and directs her way through 99 minutes exploring via multiple characters and cleverly plotted scenarios questions like : If you could know who your soul mate was, would you? And what effects does the knowing and not knowing have on your life? What is the guarantee worth and how does it affect your behavior? There are several combinations, choices, outcomes, and intersections; some predictable, many often painful; all interwoven into a highly palatable story.

TiMER is Streaming on Netflix (presently) and I believe it makes many “favorites of sci-fi” lists. It is a wonderful romantic film, quirky indie comedy, and family drama embraced by the science fiction that is quickly (and not necessarily satisfactorily explained) during the opening credits. The music in the film is charming; some of the repetitive elements (Oona waiting here and there,  or running circles) and the sharp wit (via the step-sister Steph) as well. I couldn’t say much about the film wows, except for the agility in the writing and the smooth delivery. The acting is good, the characters engaging (if not sometimes bitchy or coarse), the story entertaining, and the discussions after worth a bottle of wine with friends and/or your significant other.

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*you’ll note that the MPAA rating for the film is R, there is coarse language and sexual content.  If you’ve an audience member younger than 15-16, I would suggest screening.

TiMER (2009)

written and directed by Jac Schaeffer.

Produced by Jennifer Glynn, Rikki Jarrett, Jac Schaeffer

Editing by Peter Samet

Starring: Emma Caulfield, Michelle Borth, John Patrick Amedori, Desmond Harrington, JoBeth Williams, Kali Rocha

Music by Andrew Kaiser

Cinematography : Harris Charalambous

Running Time 99 minutes.

Rated R for language.

wiki page. IMDb link

Neil Genzlinger’s NY Times Review.