May December

Watching Me Watching You

or

Persona Non Grata

 

It's a little bit of an invasion, really. The actress (Natalie Portman) "doing personal research" on your life. Seems there's going to be an "independent" film about the notorious past of you, Gracie Atherton-Yoo (Julianne Moore), and the notorious affair with a 13 year old friend of her son's, got pregnant, was tried very publicly for child-rape, was convicted and sent to prison where she delivered their child, and, when released, married her now "of age" lover, Joe (Charles Melton). They've tried to live a normal life, but it's practically impossible, with the tabloids, the photographers, the neighbors. And with those who'd rather not forget. 

 

Now, 20 years later, "this film" is being made (an earlier, exploitative TV Movie was made years ago without their participation or consent), and the Atherton-Yoo family is co-operating with this one in the desperate hope that it might make the film more sympathetic...or at least do no harm.

 

Do no further harm.

So, the family has welcomed this woman, this actress Elizabeth Berry (Portman) to their home, and at a busy time: "the twins" (Gabriel Chung, Elizabeth Yu) are graduating high school, and that will leave Gracie and Joe, for the first time, empty-nesters. Their first daughter—you know, that one—(Piper Curda) is coming home from school for the first time since she left for school. For family. Special occasion. And...she's there. The actress.

But, the actress is just clueless enough that when she arrives at their doorstep for a meet-and-greet dinner that she (helpfully, of course) brings in a package she found left at the door-step of the house. That package is just another poop-a-gram from a harassing neighbor (or maybe it's not even a neighbor—they get them every week). She'll learn. It's her job to. Still, it's not a good start.

And Elizabeth is good at first. She hangs back, observing, talks to the sympathetic friends, makes notes, preliminary research. She witnesses son Charlie at dinner get a little belligerent and leave the table. Things are kind of tense. Elizabeth is sensitive to this and worries about her presence and reassures them that she is doing the research because she wants to portray them honestly and make it a "human story" (what else would it be?). She asks Gracie how they met, and when dinner's over, gets Joe's side of it and asks if she can visit him at his work. Then she starts to do some digging.

She interviews Gracie's ex-husband, the one she cheated on. She goes to the pet shop where Joe and Gracie were working and talks to the manager there, asking if she can go into the back-room where the two were caught, and when the manager goes back out front to check on a customer, Elizabeth tries to re-enact the scene where it happened. She goes to the lawyer who represented Gracie, and meets, by accident, the son who was friends with Joe (but is no longer) and he has issues.

But, he's not the only one, apparently. Elizabeth goes to visit Joe at work and she's deliberately provocative, almost like she's re-enacting what might have led up to the affair at the pet shop. She speaks at daughter Mary's drama club and (of course) the first question from the students is about filming sex scenes and Elizabeth's answer makes Mary more than uncomfortable. Then, she asks Gracie to show her how she does her make-up.

It's one of two sequences that director Todd Haynes sets up in front of a bathroom mirror. But, there's no mirror. Elizabeth and Gracie stand side-by-side playing as if a mirror was before them, but they're facing forward on screen, with us sitting in the place of the mirror. It's as if one isn't necessary because at this point, the two women are becoming reflections of each other. 

We've already seen Elizabeth going through old tabloids, studying pictures of Gracie and imitating her poses, the way she folds her hands, the way she holds her mouth. Gracie acts differently around Elizabeth and is more capable of holding things together because that's the image she wants to give Elizabeth—it's how she wants to be portrayed. But, it's a tough act to pull off. In private with Joe, she is more flinty and breaks down often. But, with Elizabeth, she's thoughtful, calm, and nurturing.

And, at the same time Elizabeth is learning to "play" Gracie, she is "playing" Gracie, complimenting her, ingratiating, trying to get on her good side (even while not knowing that that is precisely the side Gracie is giving her). The two women start to meld into each other's psyches, becoming a third person, the "best" Gracie each can achieve. Both are acting "towards" that version, it's "the job," one for the family, one for the film.

There's an amusing story in the "Trivia" section of imdb's listing for May December that "Julianne Moore (Gracie) did not notice Natalie Portman (Elizabeth) was improvising by mimicking her mannerisms in some scenes until later into filming." That's amusing if it's true, but Portman is doing it so subtly—even while her character is doing it more blatantly in the film—that Moore probably caught on when she was looking. Portman usually saves the mimicry for when Moore is out of eye-line and it's slightly spooky. But, then Portman's actress is "spooky," doing things for verisimilitude that most actors (I hope) wouldn't do.

It's one of Haynes' most subtle films about the act of watching and being watched and how scrutiny changes things and not in an altogether good way. Layers and layers of scrutiny abound until the whole thing feels like it's under a microscope, at a time when we are all voyeurs, while simultaneously wanting our 15 minutes of fame...until we get it.

Knife in the Water

Knife in the Water (aka Nóż w wodzie) (Roman Polanski, 1962) It all starts out as an idyllic getaway, built on brio and deceit. Andrzej (Leon Niemczyk) and Krystyna (Jolanta Umecka) are driving—she's driving, he's watching her driving—until, finally, he takes the wheel because he doesn't like the way she negotiated an obstruction. Grumbling, he gets behind the wheel and almost runs down a hitch-hiker (Zygmunt Malanowicz), who's standing in the middle of the road, trying to get a ride one way or another. Andrzej berates the kid for being an idiot, but the kid is blasé about it and so non-confrontational, Andrzej gives him a ride...at least to where they're going—a marina where they have a sloop they're going to take out for an overnight sail, just the two of them. But, in the unpacking of the car and the preparation, the kid is just kind of hanging around with vague plans to camp out in the woods, and helps when he's asked. So, Andrzej invites him aboard.

 

The sailing's going to be rockier than expected.

Andrzej makes it clear that the kid is not getting a free ride. He's going to have to work. He's going to have to help and that "two men on board, only one can be the skipper." Sounds reasonable enough. The kid doesn't know to sail and doesn't know how to swim and has about the same amount of use on the boat as ballast. So, he gets to swab the deck and be mocked by Andrzei when he doesn't take to it immediately. Krystyna has no such ego involved, and is more like the kid in terms of any power struggle on the boat—she cooks the meals, she does the clean-up. Andrzej, well, he's the captain. He steers...everything.

But, even Andrzej isn't totally in control of the boat: sometimes the wind dies and they're stuck in place; they run aground and have to tow the boat by rope out of the shallows; a squall will force them into the cramped interior.

And there's another element in the power dynamic: the boy has a knife. It creates a fascination for Andrzej, watching the boy idle his time stabbing at the boat between his fingers in an ever quicker and more dangerous rhythm. Andrzej can't help himself but try at the little trick. But, the boy is very attached to the knife; on the road it is an essential tool for building shelter. It's a tool. Not a toy. But, It's one more element of a power struggle between three people, all with their strengths and weaknesses and all in uncharted territory despite being in familiar surroundings.

This is Polanski's first film, and his dynamics of power, which inform his films again and again, are present from the first. There is nowhere to hide on a boat and so lines must be drawn and advantages used. And when disaster strikes, suddenly the dynamics change and the group splinters in interesting ways that leave everyone changed and more than a little adrift.

It's a fairly simple film, but Polanski manages to maximize what he's able to do with it, despite and—one has to acknowledge—because of the claustrophobic nature of the setting. One only has to look at Philip Noyce's Dead Calm—despite taking place on a much bigger boat—to see the influence it has on that film, and no one can do a film about close quarters, whether on a boat or not, without taking some notes from his work here.

Knife in the Water was a game-changer, not only for its director (who completely dubbed the dialogue of the hitchhiker), but also for the Polish film industry—which, under a communist rule had exerted some influence over the film's story. It was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Foreign Film, and was quite successful in the West—even garnering a cover on Time Magazine—and easing the restrictions on subject matter in Polish films, which, by and large, had mostly focused on war themes.

 

And it demonstrates Polanski's fascination with the simultaneous occurrences of the polarities of existence, of "the best of times, the worst of times" and how even the idyllic can become the stuff of nightmares.

Everything Everywhere All at Once

The Cosmic Comedy

or

"It's Going To Be So Hard To Explain This To You!"

 

For the longest time, the IMDb description for it was "a woman tries to do her taxes." Not something to create a surge at the box office (although I found I couldn't get a seat in a theater for it this weekend).

 

Oh, Everything Everywhere All at Once is about that. But, it's a lot of other things, too.

 

The best way I can describe it is as a negative. Imagine the pitch to Michelle Yeoh: "So, Michelle (I can call you Michelle?)...what kinds of movies HAVEN'T you done? And do you want to do them all in one movie?"

 

That makes it a little bit easier to categorize it than by the seemingly infinite series of hyphenated genres I was coming up with by the end of the thing. Or, by the seemingly infinite number of references and "inside" jokes that permeate through it.

 

No, EEAAO* is it's own thing. Let's create a new genre: Dizzying.

Evelyn Wang (Yeoh) is having a crisis.  Well, okay, several crises in various stages of resolution. It's a mid-life crisis—she's a Chinese immigrant, caught between languages and cultures and married to a man, Waymond (Ke Huy Quan and yes, he was Short Round), who is cheerily ineffectual, whom her father (James Hong) warned her not to marry. She has a daughter, Joy (Stephanie Hsu) who's adolescent and gay—not culturally...cultural. She helps run the family laundromat and they are late on their taxes and there are questionable deductions that are being spotted by the sharp-eyed, sharp-tongued Mrs. Deirdre Beaubeirdra** (Jamie Lee Curtis), who wants all the documentation by the end of the day. The laundromat had a water leak and it's stained one of the ceiling tiles, and her father—the one who disowned her?—has just moved over to the U.S. from China and is living with them, and Evelyn is planning a birthday celebration for him. Plus, she doesn't know...or hasn't noticed...that Waymond has just filed divorce papers.

 

Life happens, am I right?

And whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger. But, instead of having a nervous breakdown, Evelyn has an intervention of sorts. At the headquarters of the IRS, a suddenly very focused Waymond tells her to put on some ear-buds that look like blue-tooth, and gives her a list of instructions to do if things go awry. And while listening to her auditor drone on and on about documentation and receipts, Evelyn suddenly has her attention pulled away...that blue-tooth thingy beeps and, soon, following those written instructions, her attention isn't alone.

As any nerd will tell you, there is a multiverse of possibilities created every time we make a decision in our lives, and Evelyn has been visited by the Waymond of the Alpha Universe to implore her help in a desperate crisis. The Alpha-Evelyn of that Universe is dead, having developed a technology that allows jumping between universes and employing the skills of other similar entities in alternate realities. In other words, Evelyn can download the skills and experiences of those other Universe-Evelyn's in order to defeat the purposes of an entity called Jobu Tupacki.

Why isn't the Alpha-Evelyn doing this? She's dead because she jumped Universes so much her brain fried. Why is this Evelyn being tasked with it? Because of all the Evelyn's in all the Universes, she is the biggest failure, and so her potential is much bigger and she's in less danger of having her brain crisped. So, with the help of Alpha-central and the control room that is feeding her instructions and coordinates—all while they are being attacked by this Jobu Topacki, by the way—she is able to tap into this seemingly infinite number of Evelyns and their skills and experiences.

And they are legion—there's the Evelyn who is a master of martial arts (and a separate one who has learned the mastery of "pinky-fu"), the Evelyn who's an expert at sign-twirling, the master chef, the singer, the actress, the dominatrix, all the Evelyns that have ever been, in all walks of life and forms and sexual orientations, all available to be used, perused and abused, depending on what's available and whether she can perform the actions necessary to receive them. All in the service of circumventing the all-powerful Jobu Topacki.

And the film-makers, Dan Kwan and Daniel Scheinert (call them "Daniels") have a seemingly endless supply of ideas and references to call upon, be it "The Twilight Zone" and Brainstorm and The Matrix and The Wizard of Oz, the malleability of Charlie Kaufman, and the anything-goes zen of "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy", the movies of Stanley Kubrick and Wong Kar Wei, Disney/Pixar cartoons, horror movies, teen angst meltdowns, Amy Tan, martial arts, pop-culture, even Japanese porn, in a story that boils down to a domestic drama where the stakes are literally life and death. All done as a comedy; I haven't giggled so much in a movie in years.

Nor have I been as thrilled with the inventiveness of cinema at the hands of film-makers who never let go of the fact that they can do absolutely anything to tell a story. In a way, they have spoiled the multiverse pool for everybody else using the concept for the rest of time. It may even become its own genre after this.

The cast, of course, is perfect. Michelle Yeoh has always been a deft performer, only held back by the reticence of her characters who express themselves more in action. Here, she has a chance to do everything, titularly, and she is amazing, conspiring with film-makers who have  built a love-letter to a performer who has always been superb, but rarely allowed to stretch things to show just how superb she can be (Jackie Chan was the original choice to star and the film-makers sagely changed tacks to create a film of more depth). Quan is a revelation, utilizing his child-star enthusiasm with a more mature presentation, but still keeping that playfulness and total commitment. Stephanie Hsu is a genuine find and traverses seamless transitions from drama to comedy and back with the mastery of an old pro. Speaking of whom, James Hong is here—it is always a pleasure to see him—and, having done literally everything in his 78 year career, this is a welcome opportunity to see a master, still in his prime at 93. Then there's Jamie Lee Curtis, giving a comedic performance (that at times allows her to show her inner "Jason") that is sometimes horrific, sometimes buffoonish, always funny, and always recognizably human. She's a treasure. They all are.

It's a tough movie to sum up, or even let go of, to put "30" to it and not have it careening through your head, assaulting your synapses and simultaneously tickling and tugging your heart, but I think the best to do so is in this distillation of its after-glow penned by Jake Coyle of The Chicago Sun-Times: "And though Everything Everywhere All at Once (a movie that very much lives up to its title) can verge on overload, it’s this liberating sense of limitless possibility that the movie leaves you filled with, both in its freewheeling anything-goes playfulness and in its surprisingly tender portrait of existential despair."

 

*Now, that I think about it—they didn't make a joke about "Old McDonald's Farm" in it. Maybe they did. I may have to see it a fifth time before I catch it.

 

** And I just realized while typing that that it's a reference to the song, "The Name Game"--this movie is DEEEP.