Rachel…Hitched
The theater began showing Hotel For Dogs. We checked our stubs, we asked the other two people in the theater…there had been a mistake. Upon informing the theater, we were given free passes for next time, and they re-started what we’d come to see, which was Rachel Getting Married. The free passes were the best part of the movie, and I wish we’d seen Hotel For Dogs instead.
It is not unusual for a movie to introduce us to a tragically dysfunctional family. It is not unusual to have other than a happy ending, or for a movie to show us characters we can’t possibly like or sympathize with. It’s a little unusual to have random appearances by Robin Hitchcock and bellydancers. It is, however, VERY unusual to have all of this happen in a plot that goes nowhere, in a story that never shows us the reason why it’s one worth telling.
The only reason I am not horribly depressed by the idea of knowing Anne Hathaway has a Golden Globe, is knowing at least she tied with Meryl Streep. They’re recongizing her for not being perky and doe-eyed in the same way they are recognizing Amy Adam’s continued perkiness and doe-eyed innocence in Doubt.
When I went to my senior homecoming dance with four other couples, we went to a four-star restaurant before the dance. One guy, wanting to impress his date, paid the strolling violinist $50 to play us Ave Maria. I have no idea whether that guy succeeded in getting any tail that night, but, I do remember that the violinist then refused to leave, and was cloying and annoying and disruptive of our dinners until the guy gave him more money to go away. I was reminded of this anecdote while listening to the score of Rachel Getting Married, only there was no opportunity to pay the violinist to shut the fuck up.
As a writer, I found myself very disappointed that the film focused so little on the tall, African-American groom, meeting this messed-up family for the first time the day before he marries into it. What is this poor guy’s reaction? Does he have second thoughts? How does he process this? How will it impact their marriage? We don’t know, but it would have been an interesting thing to explore as he was the only character in the mix I felt truly sorry for. I felt sorry for the actor, too, because apart from the marriage ceremony, his only other big scene was one where he loads a dishwasher. But hey, the economy is bad, I’m sure he appreciated the work.
The film would have worked infinitely better had Hathaway’s character not survived a car wreck at one point in the movie. There could have been some relief, possibly some character growth, maybe even a reconciliation of a life’s ending with a life’s beginning. But no. She and her whole damned family, and the annoying violinist, are there with us until the bitter end and nobody is the better for it. My advice is, when you get your invitation to Rachel Getting Married, send regrets.
The Wrestler
When I was a bar musician, I met a few long-haired, burned out guys who spent years touring and partying, only to end up in their 50’s, bulging out of their spandex pants, playing Gimme Three Steps in biker bars and pretending it’s just as swell. They’d unplug their amps at 2am and go back to their trailer parks. I never thought much about what their existence was like offstage, after the smoke had cleared and the shouting crowd had gone home.
The only thing I’d heard about The Wrestler was that it’s another case of, extraordinary performance in a mediocre movie. Now that I’ve seen it, I can’t agree. It is a poignant, special movie with one extraordinary performance and at least two damned good ones.
I never got into the WWF in the 80’s, but I’d seen enough of it to remember the Hulk Hogans and Sgt. Slaughters of the day. It didn’t matter to me while watching The Wrestler that I don’t like or follow wrestling, because Mickey Rourke’s Randy the Ram Robinson easily could have been one of the guys I played the Mesa Lounge with in 1991 — doing what he’s always done, because he loves it, and can do nothing else.
There aren’t very many truly good roles for women once they hit 45, which Marisa Tomei will this year. Actresses can play young and lovely for only so long, before there’s this 15 year gap and then they have to start playing somebody’s grandma. Tomei’s presence in the movie, an aging stripper who is berated by onlookers for being too old, could easily be a metaphor for what happens to actresses, which is every bit as sad and unfair. She may be the stereotypical stripper with the heart of gold, but she works hard for the money…SO hard for it, honey. I will never look as good as her 44-year-old self, twisting around a stripper pole and bringing the sexy despite the fact that doing so demeans her…this role took chutzpah and I applaud her.
There are cringeworthy scenes here which are not for the faint of heart. I have not researched whether or not Mickey Rourke actually let someone go after him with a staple gun, but if he did…whoa…Sean Penn might have to do more than just yell this year if he wants his statue. I still need to see Milk for comparison’s sake. Mickey Rourke used to be a great looking guy, and now he’s nearly disfigured and unable to speak a complete sentence, as he left acting to be a professional kickboxer for so many years. The fact that he allowed himself to simply BE, with no sugar coating, no glossing over…the vulnerability is heartbreaking.
During one scene, Evan Rachel Wood in a sincere performance as the estranged daughter explains that the relationship is broken beyond repair. We come to realize it is Randy who is broken and unable to be fixed. The false, for him, is the only truth he’s capable of. An addict to the adoration, perhaps the most heartbreaking line in The Wrestler occurs as he strides confidently into the stadium for his rematch amid a cheering crowd, mumbling something just loud enough for us to realize that he really does know the difference between real and fake, but doesn’t care anymore.
Now hearing Bruce Springsteen’s song in its proper context, I don’t understand how it could have been looked over at Oscar time. I suspect what will happen to The Boss after the snub is a lot like what happens in The Wrestler. He’ll go on doing what he loves, what he’s good at, consequences be damned, for the rest of his life.
It’s Not You, It’s Me
If you are a housewife within spitting distance of 40, wait 10 years before watching Revolutionary Road, or it’ll screw you up pretty good. If you are in my mother’s generation, you will see snapshots of your childhood and wonder how your parents felt.
Everything you hear about the fine acting in this one is true. I have thought well of Kate Winslet since Sense and Sensibility, but it took The Aviator to convince me that DiCaprio was any more than a smug pretty boy. Both are in fine form here, and their chemistry is undeniable. Michael Shannon, another Oscar-nominated actor this season, isn’t anyone I immediately recognize but I thoroughly enjoyed him as the insane guy who tells the truth a bit too much for polite company. How unfortunate for Mr. Shannon that he is up against Heath Ledger. Any other year, he might win.
The only true issue I had with this film is that I’ve already seen it on AMC; on TV it’s called Mad Men. The only difference here is that Winslet’s April is more extreme than her January Jones counterpart, and DiCaprio is less likable, and way less suave than than Don Draper. I love Mad Men and continue to watch it willingly and without discomfort, yet Revolutionary Road hit a nerve. I have more thinking to do about how and why my reaction can be so vastly different between two such similar pieces of entertainment.
Many of us have been through those breakups where you hear from your soon-to-be ex, “It’s not you, it’s me.” I’ve heard that before, but have never said that before. Now, I find myself in a situation where that’s exactly how I feel about Revolutionary Road. I might have liked it a lot more, had I not been a 38-year-old housewife in life evaluation mode as my youngest prepares for school in the fall. It probably is the picture it’s intended to be, for many who see it. Alas, Revolutionary Road, it’s not you, it’s me.
Hellboy 2
In a year that also gave us Iron Man and The Dark Knight, it’s kind of hard to address Hellboy 2: The Golden Army with a straight face. When your 4-year-old, who has seen the movie before, is able to recount the plot in accurate detail, you know you can let your brain take a 2-hour lunch break. This movie requires that I put my “Movie Snob” on the shelf for its duration because Hellboy 2 is not meant to be taken seriously. And for once, that’s kind of refreshing.
Entertaining, it is…but only when you suspend your expectation for anything approached as seriously and with as much care as Iron Man. Fun, it is…but only when you realize that not only is nobody going to match Heath Ledger’s acting in The Dark Knight, but nobody is even trying. Say what you will, but Hellboy 2: The Golden Shower Army accurately gauges its place and purpose, and I have to respect that.
Needing to see this film because it was nominated for an Oscar in the category of Best Makeup, I dreaded the experience more than I disliked it, even if it’s clearly a “boy movie.” Who can keep from chuckling at a lovesick amphibian singing Barry Manilow? That Red Man, he gets ahead, man. And if you suspend all logic and laws of physics, it’s an amusing ride.
The one interesting thing about Hellboy 2 was seeing Kath & Kim’s Selma Blair in a role as a strong, smart, nurturing woman, 180 degrees different from the useless bimbo she plays on TV. I can’t decide whether this means she does an extra good job on TV, or whether it means she’s being underutilized on TV. I suspect it’s both.
The makeup, I’m guessing, was nominated for its deft combination of rubber prosthetics and actual makeup. I shudder to think about how long it would have taken poor Ron Perlman to get all those layers of red stuff off. I don’t think the makeup here is anything that’s going to outperform the age makeup for Brad Pitt in Benjamin Button…but I can at least appreciate where they were coming from.
The Visitor
The Visitor is a surprising movie, and in my opinion, better than at least one of the nominees for Best Picture I’ve seen so far.
Richard Jenkins, a well-recognized character actor, plays the classic curmudgeon. At least, this is how he is first introduced. Slowly, he is drawn into an unusual situation, and as it unfolds, you find yourself being drawn in as well.
Jenkins received an Oscar nomination earlier today, and I submit that it is well-deserved. This is an actor whose forte has been understatement, so in that sense, this was a terrific part for him; however, here the acting is in his transformation from antisocial introvert to living, feeling example of humanity…and he is brilliant in this progression. We see him dismiss a student with a late paper, we suspect, heartlessly; we wonder at his no-nonsense, nonchalant firing of a piano teacher; then later we see the same person with his zany African drumming and finally, his meltdown in front of an immigration official. I would not have initially guessed so, but, the guy has range.
Cleverly titled, the film’s finish leaves you wondering who the visitor is. Is it the young immigrants, who are surviving in our country as illegal visitors? Is it Jenkins, who visits his friend of 10 days as faithfully as a relative after apprehension by INS? Is it the young immigrant’s mother, who visits Jenkins to find out what has become of her son, and inadvertently helps him start living his life again? Are we the visitors into this particular story and set of circumstances?
These characters, while typical, are likable. It’s not often that you find yourself caring what happens to all the characters in a movie, but with this one, it’s inevitable. The filmmakers have created people who, while recognizable, you can sympathize with for one reason or another. Maybe you’ve drifted along in life after losing someone. Maybe you make one dumb mistake anyone could have made, which has major consequences later. Maybe you meet someone unexpected who helps bring out your best. Maybe you’re trapped in an uncomfortable conversation with a neighbor. Maybe you’re just in the wrong place at the wrong time. These are things that happen to all of us.
One could argue that Jenkins’ character might have easily solved a conundrum by proposing to Mona Khalil, yet he does not. He has grown, certainly, but not so much that he can venture that far out of his comfort zone. We suspect he may have regrets later, though these events have indelibly changed him.
Other films with messages are less subtle…even Wall-E, the animated movie, was really preachy this year. The Visitor does not judge, does not sermonize. What it does is simply tell us a story…these people, in this situation, in this place, in this moment. I really respect a movie that gives its audience enough credit to let us draw our own conclusion.
I wish this film had been in wider release, because I truly enjoyed it. I said in my review of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button that it would receive many Oscar nominations over other, more deserving choices. Perfect example. If Button is overrated, (and I honestly believe it is), then The Visitor is its counterpart, deserving of more appreciation and a wider audience than it has enjoyed.
The Fabric Surprise
I love doing business with eQuilter.com. They donate 2% of your purchase, before tax and shipping, to a charity you choose from their list. They wrap each order in tissue paper and enclose a personal note. It’s a first-class operation. So why have I always been too scared to risk A Fabric Surprise?
A Fabric Surprise is a 3-lb bag of bolt ends, adding up to usually over 10 yards of fabric, randomly selected, and bundled. Virtually every online quilt store I’ve ever done business with (Blue Bamboo and Keepsake Quilting to drop just a couple) offers some version of the Fabric Surprise. You pay somewhere between $15 and $25 to get this 3-lb bag of fabric, not having any idea what’s in there.
There are some fabrics and designers I adore, such as Michael Miller (for his bright, sprawling patterns and his Fairy Frost line), Hoffman (Hoffman Bali are the best batiks on the planet), Kona Bay (the best Asian patterns anywhere), and Moda (their jellyrolls are awesome, and their Moda Marbles have been well-used in my quilts).
You do this quilt thing often enough and you start to recognize designers whose names you keep seeing on the selvage (fabric edge). I use brights and jewel-tones and batiks most of the time, so that’s how I’ve become comfortable with these designers. For what I do, they’re reliable. So when searching fabric on eQuilter, I’ll browse their lines first.
There are other designers and styles I can’t stand. Thimbleberries, Civil War repro fabrics…pretty much anything that’s standard pastel, muted, earthy…or traditional. I was at Sun Valley Quilts, one of my favorite stores, last June. I told the saleslady how much I appreciate them, being from Pennsylvania. She knew immediately what I meant. “A lot of Thimbleberries out by where you are, eh?” I answered her that actually, the reason I’ve never put a quilt in a show before is because it’s pointless to compete against Amish ladies. Three other women within earshot groaned with sympathy. Pennsylvania is famous among quilters, but for quilting in the traditional sense. That’s admirable and respectable, but far from what I do.
So, I have never mustered the courage to order a Fabric Surprise, because somewhere in a warehouse lurks a stack of Thimbleberries bolt ends which would sit, unused, in my dining room if they ended up part of my surprise. Until… (ominous-sounding…dun…dun…DUHHHHHH!)
A relative gave me some money for Christmas. I was on eQuilter nearly immediately to take advantage of the ridiculous year-end bargains you can often get. While shopping, it hit me. As I’m spending gift money, and I already know this company is top notch and would never deliberately fill my Fabric Surprise full of country ducks, why not make 2009 the year I venture out of my comfort zone, shake it up, try out the Fabric Surprise, and make a pact with myself to use everything I get, even if there are a couple of Thimbleberries in the stack?
The thing that surprised me most about the Fabric Surprise was how much more I looked forward to this shipment than any other. I was like a teenager about to go to a dance, hoping for the best but without any idea what to expect. Even the kids got caught up in the enthusiasm, and have started asking daily, “Is the Fabric Surprise here yet?” As soon as I had taken the risk, it wasn’t dread, it was GLEEFUL anticipation, because after all, I love fabric. One of the quotes I use on my FaceBook Profile is from one of the senior, most experienced, most gifted ladies in my quilt guild who says “there’s no such thing as an ugly fabric, just a misunderstood one.”
Today, I got my Fabric Surprise. Twenty-six fabrics are involved. Two are solids, three are large-scale florals (one pretty garish but two, if I’m being honest, are lovely), and to my delight I immediately noticed two Michael Miller jewel patterns. One is the bolt end of a fabric also in my order, so cool, I get more. Three are black and white; there are two separate stacks that coordinate very well if not in colors I’d have chosen. One depicts ropes, another waves, which will fit in well wth my collection of pirate fabric. One fabric has multicolored spools of thread on it, one has varieties of Chinese footwear on a blue background, one is a Valentine fabric with little red envelopes and hearts. The fabric that will challenge me the most is a red, white, and blue fabric with American flags and Elvis Presley in his Army uniform, though I smiled anyway when I saw it. No Thimbleberries in sight. (This time.)
I may report back later in the year with how well I’m doing on my quest to use every fabric…but overall, this was a satisfying experiment which I intend to repeat. Not even the whole Barack Obama thing taught me as much as this one little bundle of cloth…”fear of the unknown” doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Taking a risk pays off sometimes; even if it’s not a 100% success, success is possible. And that’s awesome.
Golden Globes 2009
How much in FCC fines will NBC have to pay for Darren Aronofsky’s “rude gesture?” Will Sacha Baron Cohen be invited to Madonna’s next dinner party? And when will I stop being impressed by Tina Fey?
Last night’s Golden Globes held more than a few upsets but also had predictable moments.
My favorite lines of the night came from Ricky Gervais (“Good on you, Winslet! I told you…make a holocaust movie, you’ll get your award, so there you go.”), Colin Farrell (“I have a cold. It’s not that other thing.”), J-L0 (Mama’s talkin’! Shhhh!), and Tina Fey (“Suck it, suck it hard!”).
The Awkward Turtle Award goes to Emma Thompson, David Duchovny, and Cameron Diaz. They tried to joke, it fell flat. Bummer.
The Worst Speech Award: Tied, Colin Farrell and the British chick who was onstage with Johnny Depp. But in fairness to that chick, I wasn’t paying attention to anything but Johnny Depp.
Too Cool for School Award: The Bruce, wishing Clarence Clemons happy birthday. The guy just oozes cool, he can’t help it. He seems like the next inductee to the Saints of Cool, which already contains St. Eric Clapton and St. Jack Nicholson.
Most Conspicuous Absences: Sean Penn and winner Gabriel Byrne, who clearly didn’t expect to win.
Most Touching Moment: Chris Nolan accepting Heath Ledger’s posthumous Globe. Robert Downey, Jr. getting misty-eyed. And the whole room in standing ovation.
Most Unexpected: Kate Winslet, who should have split the vote and not won anything, winning BOTH of her awards. This will shake up the Oscar Predictions like nothing else. Though I was nearly as surprised as she was, I am pleased for her.
One source I read today referred to the Steven Spielberg speech as a Worst Moment, but I SO disagree. I loved it, especially the story about CB DeMille and the toy train set. It’s kind of scary to think that Spielberg has been in movies for 40 years, because it shows his age and reminds us that old directors don’t die, they just cut.
How wonderful to see John Adams winning so many awards, and one of my favorites, Mad Men, getting a Globe for Best Drama. And congratulations to Slumdog Millionaire, which I believe is deserving of everything it wins.
All things considered, though, the stars were not as drunk or as fun as usual. There were no classic moments that will make this broadcast special, other than it was nice to see the Globes back again after the writers’ strike cancelled the show last year. The few shots we were permitted of the room looked as though hardly anyone spent any time sitting down, or being quiet…a rowdy room. I wish we had seen more of that rowdiness onstage.
Golden Globes 2009 Red Carpet
OK I never do a Red Carpet because I tend to disagree with the powers that be pretty much 90% of the time when it comes to what’s hot and what’s not. This year, though, my experiment is to hang it all out there and see what REAL PEOPLE think.
First off…Nobody is talking about the fact that Sting’s face looks like a vagina. Sting is only one of the hottest-looking men on earth, so this is incredibly upsetting. Maybe he’s going through yet another midlife crisis. I dunno. All I know is I was not pleased to see the unkempt shrubbery. This was the worst fashion faux-pas of the night, hands down.
It seems that everyone agrees Renee Zellweger forgot the lining part of her dress. I guess it’s interesting to think of movie stars as regular people who latch their bras, too, but that doesn’t mean we need to SEE it. And as much slam as I’m reading on Mickey Rourke today, I wish people would cut the poor guy a break. He’s been out of this whole scene since the 80’s, so wouldn’t know what else to wear. A guy who thanks his dogs and cusses during his speech…whatever else you say about him, he was the most REAL person in the room. And I hand it to him for that.
Regarding pantsuits at awards shows when you’re female, there’s a right way and a wrong way to do it.
I watched the E! pre-show with Ryan Douchecrest. Two funniest things here, and I’m not even talking about Megan Fox’s admission that she is a trannie…the camera ABRUPTLY cuts as soon as it’s evident Tom Cruise is there with his MOM, not Katie H…and then Douchecrest chases Brangelina on the Carpet and gets snubbed. That. Was. Awesome!!! (Note it’s the only time all night they didn’t use the little arrows pointing to where people were on the Carpet…).
Here are examples of people Yahoo Buzz put on the WORST list who I’d have put on the opposite list: Miley Cyrus (I don’t like her at all but she looked really nice, I thought!). Anne Hathaway just needed a necklace and it would have been perfect. I agree that Mary-Lousie Parker could have done something different with her hair, but does she really deserve to be on the Worst list just for bad hair, when the dress was gorgeous?
Here are example of people Yahoo Buzz put on the BEST list who I’d have put on the opposite list: Why would anyone put Angelina’s garbage bag on a “Best” list? Especially when it looks exactly like the dress she wore to the Critics’ Choice? I don’t know what the hell that was on J-Lo, but it was NOT one of the best dresses of the night…it was a big scarf. Heidi Klum, black bubble wrap and a big gross flower…ew. And, OK, double standard here…if Mary-Louise Parker and that very cool dress can make the Worst List just for bad hair, then why oh why isn’t Drew Barrymore on the Worst List for this hairdo? Dress by Galleano, hair by Eggbeater. At least the LA Times agreed with me on the matter of Eva Mendes and the dress that threw up on itself…the classier version of which was Kate Beckinsale’s impersonation of a callalily. Freida Pinto, the gorgeous star of Slumdog Millionaire, wore a baby-poo gown with pleats and gathers in all the wrong places. I have no explanation for how Jenna Fischer ended up on the Best List with her drapery and lack of bustier. And…who told Amy Adams that her jewelry matched the outfit? Methinks there will be one out-of-work stylist today…
I think everyone knows what my FAVORITE fashion moment of the night was…can I get a Johnny Depp hair flip, please? I sure needed my fix!
Slumdog Millionaire
The old man at the front of the house leaned in as he tore my ticket and whispered with a wink, “best movie in the house, sweetie.” Grandpa knows his stuff, because everything else I see this season will be trying to measure up to Slumdog Millionaire.
My initial reaction after this was to call my travel agent and cancel that dream vacation I’ve been planning to Mumbai. This was an anti-commercial for American tourism there. My mother, however, who has been to India, says that the depiction is sadly accurate. I had never thought about, and was surprised by, the number of Indian-Americans living in our metro area (the theater was full of them) and had to wonder what their reaction to this was. When seeing a brutally honest characterization of Mumbai, one can’t help but instantly understand some of the problems that would have surely followed last year’s earthquake there. The churning nature of the place makes the city its own living, breathing character in the movie.
I read no reviews of this film prior to seeing it. I knew that it was a love story taking place in India, where a young man goes on a gameshow to try to catch a girl’s attention, and that class issues are central to the story. This is all true, however to say that this is all the movie is would be unfairly oversimplifying Slumdog Millionaire.
It took me overnight to begin writing this review simply to calm the whirling vortex of adjectives. Terrible, wonderful; terrifying, hopeful; beautiful, ugly; violent, gentle; simple, complicated; desperate, calm; truthful, deceptive; pre-destined, accidental; colorful, barren…I found myself in the ladies room before the next movie trying to collect myself because I was crying and wasn’t even sure why…was it because after everything that happened in this film (and there’s a lot), truth was all that remained? Or was it, pure and simply, emotional overload?
This film is disturbing and has much violence involving children. You may ask why this is necessary. It is not merely necessary for plot explication, but it is a realistic depiction of what life is like for orphans living in the slums of Mumbai. As Americans this shocks us because this kind of life, to us, is incomprehensible; even the homeless here have better lives than what you’ll see. But as you’ll see, despite the moral corners these children must cut to stay alive, they have an admirable persistence (a formerly common virtue in our country which has all but disappeared). At one point a child crawls through the bottom of an outhouse, and out from under a heaping pile of human waste, in order to get a movie star’s autograph. It is far from secret how passionately I love Johnny Depp, but there are some things not even I would do to get his autograph.
What a gifted director Danny Boyle is, to draw such effective performances out of little children. How adept he is, to be able to capture the color, the chaos, the opulence juxtaposed directly with the appalling poverty of Mumbai in such an absolutely haunting way. What a humane performance by Irrfan Khan, how perfect Anil Kapoor’s gameshow host, and how amazingly well the two young actors Dev Patel and Frieda Pinto demonstrate simultaneous innocence and world-weariness. This is, quite simply, a masterpiece. Once this movie had finished, not a soul moved to leave the theater until the credits had finished. I’ve never seen that happen before.
I predict Oscar nominations for Best Picture, Best Director, Best Score, Best Cinematography, Best Screenplay, and while I have more movies to see, have the preliminary belief that Slumdog Millionaire could and arguably should win in several of these categories. It’s a long shot for a Best Costumes nomination in a year that also contains The Duchess, but that wouldn’t surprise me, either. If Slumdog Millionaire leaves you with any one realization, it’s that anything could happen…but then…perhaps it is written.
Doubt
The Devil Wears a Nun Suit Doubt will make former Catholic School students squirm in their seats, remembering the corporal punishment and the scary nuns and the forced dancing in the gym to dorky samba records. It will make everyone else squirm for other reasons.
There is a popular card game known as “I Doubt It” (which our family calls “Bullshit”) which is basically a bluffing game. Imagine that game where the stakes of the game mean something different to every player. It would change the game quite a bit. Doubt explores that studio space.
This picture had to take place in the early 1960’s, because that was the last time when the majority of people were free from cynicism and were more willing to believe the best about people than the worst. The clothes and cars and references to the JFK assassination don’t establish the time period half as well as the outmoded school intercom and a nun’s crusade against the evil of the ballpoint pen. The use of pathetic fallacy was effective in the film, though the editing was oddly spliced in places.
When asked after the movie whether I believe Meryl Streep will win Best Actress, I responded that because the last two roles I have seen her in have made her so thoroughly evil (this, and The Devil Wears Prada), I have to watch Mamma Mia just to make sure Meryl can still play someone likeable, that evil for her is a demonstration of range. All of the hype about her performance is deserved, but I have to say I still find myself wanting to smack that doe-eyed look from Amy Adams’ face. Phillip Seymour Hoffman is adequate and likeable here, which makes one question whether you should believe someone because they’re likeable, or whether believing someone you can’t stand (like Streep’s character) is even possible.
Not the most entertaining of movies, Doubt does accomplish what it sets out to do, which is to ask questions about right and wrong; discretion and its use in concert with big-picture, peripheral considerations; feminism and the patriarchal leadership of the Catholic church; racism; proof versus gut feeling and the importance of each. While the picture stays true to its name and never does settle the main concern one way or the other, I found the stronger lesson in the character played by Hoffman. In the words of Kenny Rogers, you gotta know when to hold ’em, know when to fold ’em, know when to walk away, and know when to run.
Doubt will not be a serious contender for Best Picture, but rather, is a case of one standout acting performance and an above-average ensemble in a mediocre, uncomfortable movie.
HeidiWrites 