The latest film from director Sebastian Lelio, Disobedience offers much promise, but fails ultimately to deliver in many ways. Ronit (Rachel Weisz) returns to her hometown of London after learning of the death of her father, Rav Krushka, a prominent rabbi. She stays at the home of her old friend and mentee of her father's, Dovid (Alessandro Nivola), and his wife, her old friend, Esti (Rachel McAdams). When they were much younger, Ronit, Esti, and Dovid were apparently very close, and the film gradually reveals that Ronit and Esti were once lovers. For a reason that is never revealed, Ronit left London for New York ostensibly to pursue a career as a photographer, but there was evidently some calamitous event that precipitated this decision. Eventually, as the film meanders into the second act, Ronit and Esti's former passion blossoms, leading them into a brief affair and a tumultuous climax - or, at least it builds to a climax. As to whether there is any true pathos, I'm afraid the film misses the promise of its second act. The film opens with Rav Krushka giving a sermon in a synagogue in which he discusses the importance of a relationship between a man and a woman. He collapses just as he starts getting more passionate about heterosexual relationships, signaling his imminent demise. During this prologue, I was intrigued by the introduction of the many prominent themes of the film, namely sexuality, homophobia, and Judaism. The fact that he dies while expressing these views so passionately is a metaphor for the archaic nature of such beliefs. Perhaps a bit heavy-handed, the scene does set the tone effectively for the "disobedient" behavior we're about to enjoy. After this prologue, though, the film slows considerably to the point where there is little reason to want to pay attention. The color palette is rather gloomy throughout the entire film, focusing on black, brown, and grey - no color. I suppose this choice was to underscore the gloominess of the situation, but I found it hard on the eyes. It's difficult not to compare this ashen palette with the glorious photography of Call Me By Your Name, which is without question one of the most beautifully shot films of the past twenty years. Yet, Disobedience's drab colors only reinforce the drabness of the story and characters. The only character who felt like an actual person and for whom I had at least a mild interest was Esti, played admirably by Rachel McAdams. Truly caught between two worlds, Esti is an Orthodox Jew married to a rabbi who has forced herself to deny her true sexuality and personality. Her pain felt palpable, and I empathized with her. Ronit, however, was about as fascinating as watching water boil. Her character did little besides whine, smoke, and attempt to look cool by adopting an aloof smugness. She doesn't really do anything, and I never found her motivations believable, much less clear. The daughter of a rabbi who has abandoned her religion is an appealing trope, but not executed well here at all. Equally dull is Dovid, whom the writers clearly could not decide whether to portray as a hapless goody-two-shoes or a complete dirt bag who forced a woman to marry him. Unevenly written, he's also flat-out boring. His decision in the final sequence, which I won't reveal, makes little sense given his actions up to that point of the film. There is one long, long, long sex sequence in the middle of the film in which Ronit and Esti finally fulfill their passion. It was perhaps the most graphic sex scene I have ever seen: it actually shows mutual masturbation, cunnilingus, and snowballing. Yes, snowballing. The "dribbling," let's just call it, kept going and going and going. I could hear people recoiling in the theater; as for me, let's just say I didn't touch my Coke for the rest of the movie. I'm all for sex in a movie (I'm a Ken Russell fan, for crying out loud), but this was too pornographic. It actually surpassed the infamous peach scene in Call Me By Your Name. I see no reason to depict fluids in a movie, especially so realistically. Besides grossing me out, it actually annihilated what I believe was the true intention for the sequence: to depict a beautiful moment between two women who love each other deeply and have been forced apart because of culture. I'm paraphrasing, but the late, great Australian author Colleen McCollough had a simple rule for writing sex: if you want to make it romantic, focus on the emotion; if you want to make a horror scene, focus on body functions to the most clinical detail. Although she was referring to literature, this same principle can be applied to film. The sex in Brokeback Mountain is sexy because we can't see every biological detail of Jake Gyllenhaal's and Heath Ledger's bodies; instead, we feel the palpable tension and attraction the men share. Disobedience has almost no passion, but leaves absolutely nothing physical to the imagination (and I mean nothing). The film briefly picks up in the second act when Esti is caught kissing Ronit and her life seems to spiral out of control. One old bitty tattle-tales to Esti's school where she teaches young Jewish girls, and her job appears to be in jeopardy. Her husband (and Ronit's old buddy) learns of the affair, too. For a moment, the film picks up some momentum as the conflicts explode. The film does not sustain this momentum, though, and instead piddles out into a didactic and even more boring third act. I hate being told what to think when watching a movie, and the final monologue Esti has when she asks her husband for her freedom was so on-the-nose politically that I found it underwhelming. Real people's speech is messy and imperfect; Esti's monologue is so perfect that it feels like it came straight out of a play written by an undergraduate women's studies major. I love me some girl power, but this speech was just silly and felt completely out of character. That being said, I appreciate what Lelio was trying to accomplish both in the final monologue and with the film itself, even if it bored me to tears. It's important to note how rare it is to see mainstream A-listers like Weisz and McAdams starring in a Jewish lesbian romance, and for that I give the movie a little more credit than it probably deserves. But only a little. Grade: C-
The blog is back! So sorry for the long interim, but my blu ray player stopped working on Halloween only to come back to life miraculously just a few days ago. Given I was in the middle of purchasing a new player, my relief at my current one resurrecting itself is almost inexpressible. In celebration of my player's return, I watched a film I have not seen in at least five years, but one that never ceases to stir me: Martin Scorsese's The Age of Innocence. Based on Edith Wharton's novel, this adaptation is superb and easily my second favorite of all time (only Ken Russell's Women in Love surpasses it, but that is for another post).
I must confess that I am a Whartonion, to coin a new phrase: she has easily been my favorite author since I was in high school, and this adaptation of her work is actually a most personal film for me. The memory of viewing it religiously in high school, absorbing its vivid sensuality and lush symbolism with determined focus, is still fresh; I remember how deeply this film affected me, especially as a teenager with health problems, because of its unflinching plunge into a world of aching rigidity and cruel gossip. Having been the target of such exploitation myself (as recently as this summer) for issues beyond my control, I can truly say this film - and the book to an even greater extent - encapsulates the emotional turmoil of codes and rumors and ignorance and cruelty, above all, better than any other work of art I can think of. This film left such an impact on me in high school that I soon read the novel for the first time as a teen and have treasured it ever since. In fact, I wrote my MA thesis on Wharton, with one chapter discussing The Age of Innocence. Not only shaping my world views and emotional experiences, this film also germinated my studies and career, for which I am indebted to Scorsese for creating such a faithful and impactful adaptation. For those who are unfamiliar, The Age of Innocence, set in the 1870s, tells the story of Newland Archer, an aristocrat who is not quite part of the leisure class because he has do something as vulgar as "work," who is engaged to May Welland, only be to swept off his feet by her exotic, older cousin Ellen Olenska, who is trying to divorce her philandering husband, a Polish count whom we never see. The title is ironic, and Newland and Ellen's love is never consummated; truly, the torture of this film comes from seeing these two people who share such an intense connection never allowed to realize it fully. It is actually difficult for me to put into words precisely how raw and agonizing the emotions of this film are. Scorsese himself has actually called this one his "most violent film," and it is not difficult to see why. Does the film have people getting shot in the head or being beaten to death and buried alive in the desert? No, but to associate only physicality with violence is ignorant at best and is a complete misunderstanding of the very nature of violence. Violence is raw, cutting, and scarring; it can be physical, certainly, but emotional violence leaves scars far deeper than a punch or bullet can. Newland's internal violence, which the audience experiences through him, is so suffocating that one can actually find breathing difficult while watching this film. Although most people may assume Goodfellas or Casino is Scorsese's most violent, neither of those films reaches the depths of distress or melancholy that is realized so beautifully and hauntingly in The Age of Innocence. How is The Age of Innocence more disturbing than Goodfellas, you ask? The fact is that despite the world in Age belonging to a very specific time and era, the truth beneath its setting is applicable to any time. The film is all about how it feels to succumb to others' expectations for you and to disregard - or even suppress - your own desires for your own life. It's about learning everyone around you has gossiped about you behind your back. It's about giving in to habit and normalcy at the expense of sacrificing your own self merely to maintain propriety. These experiences apply to anyone in any time, and they certainly resonate with me. Newland's world is lush and gorgeous; indeed, the film itself is a visual feast. Like a strong perfume, though, his world is too beautiful, suffocatingly beautiful. The novel is full of death imagery, and Scorsese leaves much of this dialog in the film. The contrast between the extravagant wealth and "polite" conversation and the actual meaning behind these words is startling, especially when compacted with Elmer Bernstein's magnificent score. Truly, this is a film that demands re-viewings; it is impossible to absorb all of the details of this film in only one viewing. Tonight, after watching this film countless times for more than 15 years, I still caught new things. That is how much skill went into this film. The production design is peerless in both its beauty and its authenticity; the music is gorgeous; and the acting is perfect. If you ever want to measure Daniel Day-Lewis's talent, simply watch both of his Scorsese films. The gulf between Newland Archer and Bill the Butcher (Gangs of New York) is so vast that it is difficult to believe they're played by the same actor. In The Age of Innocence, Daniel has increasing difficulty speaking, becoming more tight-jawed as the film progresses. Michelle Pfeiffer is in one of her best roles as Ellen, and Winona Ryder complements as the seemingly oblivious May. Sadly, The Age of Innocence may be both Scorsese's best film, yet also his most underrated and overlooked film. Criminally ignored by film critics and even dismissed by so-called Scorsese aficionados (the ones who only think of Scorsese as a master of blood and guts; those folks are also called "idiots"), The Age of Innocence receives little attention, which has led to some unfortunate consequences. One cannot even purchase a 35 mm print of the film - not even the editor Thelma Schoonmaker. Yet, if one looks closely, one can see the similarities between Goodfellas and The Age of Innocence: both films deal with entities that have specific codes of conduct - and thinking - that must be followed in order to survive in their respective worlds; when someone challenges this order, he or she must be axed, which is what happens to Ellen Olenska. I cannot say enough good things about this movie, and it has been difficult for me not to write about the book in this post. My only suggestion is that you watch this film, then watch it again, then watch it again until you finally grasp the enormity of its messages and veracity. Grade: A+
