C'mon C'mon

So, Who's Watching Jesse?

or

"I Don't Like Feeling This, But I think He's Spoiled...or I Am"

Radio producer Johnny (Joaquin Phoenix) has a full schedule of recording kids' questions that will make up one of those radio essays that show up all the time. He's a good listener, but his interactions are generic, asking open-ended questions to get a response. But, he gets a cry for help from his sister Viv (Gaby Hoffmann)—he hasn't heard from her for a year since their mother's death following an extended term of dementia and on the anniversary of it, they're talking, catching up. Viv's husband, a musician, has moved to Oakland for a job, and he's not coping, suffering from extreme bipolar disorder and she feels the need to help before something really bad happens. Johnny asks what she's gonna do with her kid (Woody Norman).

 

It's only for a week so Johnny flies from New York to Los Angeles and he'll stay with the kid, Jesse. Jesse's high maintenance and Johnny's low output—but he is a good listener. It's just the kid never stays in place, has a lot of energy, has a lot of questions, and although Johnny's moody, he's not always in the mood. He's never had kids, and in his "big" relationship, she left him. Now, he just sort of records...

Then, there's Jesse. He has a lot of questions, but most of them he keeps to himself because he's scared of them. He acts out, pretends he doesn't care, and plays "the orphan game," where, instead of being Jesse he pretends to be an orphan asking to be taken in. He's smart as a whip, but doesn't have any friends. He knows that Johnny's only temporary, but he misses his Mom and wonders why she's in Oakland and he's with Johnny. He asks Johnny why he and his mother don't get along. But, Johnny is better at asking questions than giving answers. Then, Johnny shows him his recording equipment.

"It's really cool in here!" he says, referring to the space in his head between the headphones. And, it is. It's also isolating, which can be good for concentration, but bad for interaction. But, during the "getting-to-know-each-other" phase, it comes in handy. And then Johnny's called and told he needs to do some recording in New York. "Would you like to go to New York?" he asks Jesse. "Yes" is his reply.

 

It's a bit of an open-ended question.

But, not to Viv. "You do NOT ask a child if he wants to go to New York without asking his mother first!" But, the ex is not improving, and without any other choices, and with Johnny's advocacy, she relents and Johnny takes Jesse to New York City to stay in his apartment, go to his recording sessions, and hang out, under Johnny's supervision. But, New York is a city that never sleeps and neither, evidently, does Jesse in New York. The city energizes him, makes him hyper and a little unruly, and Johnny snaps at him a couple times. This sends Jesse into a tail-spin—he's the farthest from his mother that he's ever been, he's spending time with strangers, and nothing is familiar. And Jesse's a little kid, and hasn't had the experience of handling his emotions for very long. It's difficult.

I loved C'mon C'mon, but then there is no way that I couldn't. Its elements are hard-wired into my DNA. My mother died of Alzheimer's. I know the pressures of dealing with lack of identity from them, and letting go of reality to keep them safe and happy...but more safe than anything. It's straight out of Lewis Carroll living with that disease and more times than you'd think you find yourself doing something counter to what makes sense. Because it's better for the person you love that you do.

And I did radio work and audio post-production for many (many) years, and I, too, thought it was "really cool" to live in the space between headphones. I became hyper-aware of sound, of it's qualities, it's speeds, it's up-ramps and fades, it's colors and qualities and textures. I took an audio recorder everywhere—on trips, on errands—trying to find that perfect sound (tough to do, as you never record what's making the sound so much as you're recording the space that it's in). Acoustically perfect rooms—with "dead" ambience—made me uncomfortable (nothing strange there, it does everybody, especially when you become aware of your own pulse!). I was much more comfortable being in "that" space.

And I was lousy at expressing my emotions. I suppressed them...until they exploded. Couldn't regulate them; I didn't think you had to. But, personality and mental status are like old cars. They don't work very well without some maintenance work. And sometimes—like with Alzheimer's—you have to let go of reality and look at the world objectively instead of subjectively, because sometimes the subjective is just plain wrong. And full-on brain repair? That's expensive. Maintenance is better. You get a lot more mileage that way.

Oh. And I love New York, too.

So, this one was as familiar and as comfortable as an old sweater and ratty slippers and there was no way that I could not be tickled by it. Sometimes you're challenged by a movie, sometimes you are taken someplace new—or some thought new—that you realize why you love movies so intensely. Sometimes, you're just moved by the proximity to life that art can achieve, even when presented in unfamiliar ways (like in black and white, for instance). Or the beauty of the image in a frame thoughtfully composed, but still giving you all the information you need.

That is being objective, though. Subjectively, I think it's one of the best movies of the year and I can't wait to show it to other people.