Little Women (2019)

My little boy asked me what Little Women was about; he’s often curious about the movies I go see. I explained to him simply that it’s about four sisters growing up together during the Civil War. They help each other and others through hard times and celebrate the happy times. They play, laugh, fight a bit, and love each other to no end. He smiled and said that it sounds like our family. Perhaps that’s what Greta Gerwig, and Louisa May Alcott before her, had hoped for, that we would see the March family as our own, connect to their struggles, triumphs and misadventures. With the film’s PG rating, I half considered going again to take my son, but at 5 years old, movies without talking animals, robots or musical numbers aren’t likely to hold is attention. Maybe in a few years.

Never could I have imagined such a perfect cast for this story. Saorise Ronan leads the film as Jo, the second eldest March sister who dreams of being a writer and an independent woman, something very rare in 19th century America. In the present, she is living in New York, selling stories but comes home at the news of Beth (Eliza Scanlen), her younger sister, has fallen ill. The eldest sister, Meg (Emma Watson) has a husband, two little kids and quiet financial woes. Watson portrays this modest, yet happy lifestyle well, but with a twinge of longing for more. Amy (Florence Pugh), the youngest sister seems to feel left out at times and is often gone when life is at its hardest, either by inexperience or away with Aunt March (Meryl Streep). Timothee Chalemet plays Laurie, the rich boy next door who is often a playmate and potential romantic partner to the sisters as they grow up together. Laura Dern portrays the girls’ mother, a strong resilient woman who has to lead her girls alone while her husband, (Bob Odenkirk) is off at war.

I love how at times these actors are portraying children at play in one scene and grown women with children, personal, financial and professional problems in the next. It can often be hard to believe young people in their 20s portraying a young teen, but that rarely happens in this film. The magic is that they are so believable and recognizable in both instances. I loved Amy as a young, jealous sister, desperately wanting to keep up with Jo, and Pugh allows her to grow up gracefully while keeping that chip on her shoulder. Each actress does this with their characters so wonderfully.

One of my favorite, and most touching scenes happens towards the beginning of the film and helps set the perfect tone. It is Christmas morning and the girls wake to find a beautiful breakfast sprawled across the table for them. Before they begin, their mother returns from the cold to tell them that the woman down the road with five small children has no food for them and asks her girls to give their breakfast to her. There’s a moment of hesitation, they’re young, and looking at that food we can’t blame them. They all realize it’s the right thing to do. The image of them carrying picnic baskets together through the snow is wonderful, but the joy they bring to this poor woman and her children with so little is fantastic. You can feel the warmth of the kind act straight through the screen. You can imagine no greater joy has happened in that cold shack except that Christmas morning. And the girls are rewarded for their kindness.

This adaptation is so full of color, movement and life. We feel the exhilaration of the dances and galas the older girls attend. Meg’s wedding, while so modest by today’s standards, could be the envy of modern brides. It is so full of color, beauty and life. Moments of sadness are full of blue and gray shadows. The costumes, from modest coats and hats in the snow to beautiful ball dresses are all lovely and the color pallets seem to match the personalities of the character wearing it.

Gerwig writes the screenplay so that the saddest moment in the film as a focal point where the past and present timelines meet. It’s a wonderful trick to the writing and makes the idea of moving on even more poignant. This moment, which is no less devastating for those who already know that story, made the entire sold out theater I sat in cry together. It was a rare, beautiful moment. All around I could hear stifled sniffles and atmosphere was filled with silent, shared tears.

I could go on and on about Gerwig’s Little Women. I feel that its six Oscar nominations are not quite enough, I firmly believe Gerwig should have been nominated for best director. Best Picture, adapted screenplay, original score, costume design, supporting actress for Pugh and leading actress for Ronan are certainly nothing to take for granted. But instead of sounding too greedy, I must leave it at this: Never have I seen a movie that so perfectly describes the plight of these young 19th century women. Amy spells it out perfectly, how little rights and economic power she has and how marriage may not always be about love, but money and how complicated and heartbreaking that can be. Jo shows us this, as she struggles to be taken seriously as a writer while secretly longing for love. Meg shows us that while it is hard to struggle, love is worth it. And Beth breaks our hearts with her encouragement, music and kindness.

“Women, they have minds, and they have souls, as well as just hearts. And they’ve got ambition, and they’ve got talent, as well as just beauty. I’m so sick of people saying that love is just all a woman is fit for.”

The Artist

The fact that The Artist is a black and white silent film makes all the difference.  It was a unique kind of film experience.  Our eyes soaked up the perfect shades of grey and understood the first language we ever learned; body language.  Our ears were more relaxed, not searching words to decipher for meaning, but instead had music that perfectly lead us to the correct emotional state of each scene.  Without booming voices and today’s typical loud things that happen in movies (explosions, gunfire, screaming, Michael Bay-style annoyances), the entire theater experience was quieter than expected and I could hear laughter from rows away.  It was easy to see ourselves in the shots of audiences watching movies.

George Valentin (Jean Dujardin) is a silent film star in 1927 who loves the attention it brings him.  He is a bit conceited, giving his dog more credit than his costar and wife.  When a fan bumps into him with photographers all around, George plays along, sparking the question, “Who’s that girl?”  With her picture in the paper next to a star, she has more confidence and becomes an extra at Kinograph studios, under the name Peppy Miller (Supporting Actress nominated, Bérénice Bejo).  Little did she know she would be working with George and that he would help her find the one thing that can make her stand out from the other girls.  There is an obvious attraction between the two.

Problems arise for George, when he refuses to move on to talkies.  At first, he laughs, thinking a talking film is ridiculous.  When he understands the threat it presents to his work, he tries to fight it, by making his own silent film and making arguments against talkies in the papers.  Soon, he realizes it is too late.  We understand him to be a man stuck in one place as the rest of the world, including rising star Peppy, moves on without him.  That staircase scene helped illustrate that idea perfectly, no words needed.

With his Clark Gable style looks and Fred Astaire moves, Best Actor nominated Jean Dujardin feels perfectly natural in this silent era role as George.  All his “mugging at the camera” does not feel like mugging, but a perfect portrayal of emotions that can range so far across his face and movement.  When he smiles, it’s joyous.  His lowest moments can break our hearts.  Even when George’s guard is up, Dujardin has a way of showing how George truly feels.  This sort of silent acting is not miming, but a true art that has to reach deeper than superficial words, and Dujardin proves that he is a master.

I believe that music is much more important in a silent film.  It sets the tone and can replace the voices some may miss.  In one scene, you will see how orchestras used to play live at the front of the theater, providing live music to accompany the film.  Ah, how I would love to experience a silent film the old fashioned way.  The music composed for this film spans a wide range of depth, from toe-tapping jazzy to sweepingly dramatic.  And it all keeps true to the era portrayed.  If these points are taken into consideration, there is no competition against The Artist for Best Original Score.

Besides Best Picture, Original Score and the two acting nominations, The Artist was also nominated for Cinematography, Original Screenplay, Art Direction, Film Editing, Costume Design and Michel Hazanavicius for Best Director.  That is a big 10 nominations for a film that seems so out of the ordinary.   Only one other film has more nominations this year, Hugo with 11.

What surprised me the most about The Artist, is that even though there are some themes that hearken back to Singin’ in the Rain and Sunset Boulevard, it feels very original.  I was not able -nor distracted enough to try- to guess what would happen next.  The plot was driven by the characters, and they felt so real and compelling that the whole audience celebrated their triumphs and mourned beside them; even the dog.

The Artist gives me hope for the next generation of film making.  Taking a step back and remembering exactly why we love film, what originally made it so great, is one of the best ways to improve upon this art.  This is an amazing homage to an important era in film history that keeps the visuals and ideas simple.  But most importantly, it puts story and character first.

If The Academy is looking to award the most unconditional film that celebrates why people have always loved the movies, The Artist will win the Oscar for Best Picture.

The Tree of Life

I would dare to say that Terrence Malick’s The Tree of Life is like no other film you have seen or will see in years.  It tries to encompass all the mysteries of the universe and yet focuses, like a microscope, on one suburban family in the 1950s.  Their life is shown beautifully, through images that make up Jack (Hunter McCracken), the oldest boy’s, memory.  There is no concrete plot, but we are not lost, confused or wondering what the point of all these images are.  It’s shown how most people would look back and remember their own childhood, even if it was not as idealistic as young Jack’s.

In the beginning of the film, we are shown images of Jack in the present as a successful middle aged man (Sean Penn), mixed with the memories of the tragic death of one of his brothers.  We are shown the contrasting reactions from his mother (Jessica Chastain) and father (Brad Pitt), the typical comforts and unhelpful words of neighbors, “Life goes on.  At least you still have the other two.”  We see the wind billowing thin white curtains, the sunlight through a tree, empty rooms featuring a perfect artifact from a common home of the period.  Each shot is completely different from the last, yet continuity is achieved.

Then the film shows beautifully organic masses, meant to portray the creation of the universe.  This feels both calm and incredibly intense at the same time.  We watch computer generated cosmos open up, lava flow over the earth, even a few dinosaurs are shown.  It is very much like a combination of  2001: A Space Odysey and The Rite of Spring in Fantasia, only in breath taking high definition.

Throughout the film, you will hear voices, sometimes whispering.  Usually it is young Jack, wondering out loud in a bit of an abstract prayer to God, “I want to know what you are.  Why should I be good?  When You aren’t.”  Other times it is the voice of his mother, usually with some subtle advice on life, and all its complexities, “Help each other.  Love everyone.  Every leaf.  Every ray of light.  Forgive.”  The film is better enjoyed if you keep an open mind and soak these words in, rather than scoff at their attempt to be profound.

Jack’s childhood is shown from the day he is born until he is a young teen.  There is none of the usual narration, that would be too simple.  Instead of anything being told to us, we are shown everything.  His interactions have very little dialogue, not because it doesn’t happen, but because it is not needed.

Through what we are shown, we understand that his mother is kind, loving and very in tune with nature, whereas his father has a much harder exterior, demanding respect, that chores being done right, and becoming a model of tough manhood for his sons.  We see the boys and mother rejoice in freedom while the father is gone and cower together at his outbursts.  Generations today might regard Pitt’s character as a villain or an unfit father, but in a typical family from the 1950s, this was very much how most fathers behaved.  Jack seems to understand this is just how it is.

The entire film is photographed beautifully, earning the film a nomination for Best Cinematography.  It feels so naturally free form, continuing the ideas of the abstract universe this all takes place in.  For indoor scenes, there is rarely any lighting other than the sunlight coming in from the windows.  This always brings out the natural beauty of these people, and they are rarely given a typical Hollywood style close up.  The way the camera captures them makes them look so soulful and real, like you’re looking into an old family album.

Now, I do not think The Tree of Life will entertain everyone, though I believe its nominations for Best Director and Best Picture are well deserved.  Some people will be very put off by the non-linear plot, lack of dialogue or how Sean Penn was a big part of the advertising campaign only to be a very small part in the whole film.  However, I do encourage everyone to give it a try.  Clear your mind, let it open up to everything you see and hear.  You might not be able to figure out any mysteries of the universe through The Tree of Life, but then again, it might be a step in the right direction.

“Do you trust in God?  Job too was close to the Lord.”

If The Academy is looking to award the film that dares to be existentially artful, the Oscar for Best Picture will go to The Tree of Life.