Celeste and Jesse Forever

Written by Rashida Jones and Will McCormack

Directed by Lee Toland Krieger
Starring Rashida Jones (Celeste), Andy Sanberg (Jesse)
89 minutes; 2012

I saw “Celeste and Jesse Forever” at a matinee this afternoon.  There were 2 other couples, one woman by herself, and me alone of course in theater.  The women in the couple arrangements got up during the movie, left and came back.  In general, they were restless. “Celeste and Jesse Forever” is a movie about the heartache of breaking up despite having strong lingering feelings – either love, lust, anger, regret or all of the above – but nonetheless strong.  Were these women seeing parts of themselves in the movie?  The guys didn’t move.

“Celeste and Jesse Forever” meandered between irritating clichés and truthful moments.  Maybe 70-30, and you can fill this in for yourself after seeing the film.  It was a long, repetitive, winding road of a story – if it was a story at all.  None the less I liked the film.  The acting was superb and Rashida Jones shines as an actress and even more so as a screenwriter.  Bravo Rashida. 

The no-narrative narrative is a trend in filmmaking.  Examples include “Your Sister’s Sister”, “Pariah”, and “Tiny Furniture”.  The strict three act formula story structure is old news and that is a good thing.

Other things disappearing are actual film projectors and the fluttering sound coming out of projection booths.  Today was the first day of all digital projectors at the Lagoon Theater.  Hard drives are being sent to theaters now instead of reels of film.  No film projectors or the strict three act formula story structures any more.  Welcome the new day.

The most important ingredient of “Celeste and Jesse Forever” that makes this film worthwhile is a female centric view of a relationships, careers, and life.  Celeste did not need Jesse to complete her, nor did her world revolve around him.  However, she loved him dearly, took him for granted, lost him, and it hurt.  Celeste was fully human and not a one-dimensional supporting function of a male character.  She loved, lived, suffered and laughed.  How refreshing is that?

Your Sister's Sister

Written and directed by Lynn Shelton; starring Emily Blunt (Iris), Roaemarie DeWitt (Hannah), and Mark Duplas (Jack); 90 minutes; 2012

A wake or funeral is an overused but sometimes functional way to open a film.  In “Your Sister’s Sister” a one year anniversary memorial service opened the film.  Jack’s angry outburst at the overly pious and hypocritical comments that his brother’s were making is refreshing and forecast good things to come in this wonderfully cogent second feature by writer/director Lynn Shelton. 

However, I had to wait for the better parts of this movie to arrive.  The next hour is filled with clever, self involved, but sometimes entertaining talking.  The dialog and thought process of all the characters seems ten years younger than the character’s actual ages.  This generation disconnect is disconcerting.   They were thirty-somethings talking and acting like young twenty-somethings.

Jack and Hanna make love, or screw, or I don’t know what it was, to set things in motion.  I never dreamed it was a trap that later actually contributes something to the narrative.

Hannah and her sister Iris both need Jack in entirely different ways.  Their dilemma finally unfolds and thrashes about in the last half hour and is worth the wait.  Spending an hour with these characters is interesting.  The over written or over improvised chit-chat evolves into insightful conversation later in the film.  I don’t care if it was scripted or improvised – maybe it was scrimprovised, which isn’t really new but in the last two years it has risen to a polished art form.  I take that back.  I don’t want to kill something by calling it polished.

The cinematography and editing is functional and basic.  The transitional images between scenes of beautiful greeting card images are out of place and seem like an after thought.  I loved the minimal musical score.  There were no contemporary tunes or orchestras to dictate emotion.   The production design consisted of wardrobe and whatever nature stirred up outdoors.  I liked everyone’s messy hair.

The “mumblecore” filmmakers of 2008-2010 didn’t like the label “mumblecore”.  I don’t blame them.  It is a horrible word.  I call the recent and not so recent scrimprovised indie films mumble-heart.  These films are heart warming, heart felt, and from the heart – hence mumble-heart.  Nobody really mumbles but the word mumble has a carryover meaning and cache from the recent past.

“Your Sister’s Sister” is good hearted and from the heart.  The conundrum that Jack, Hanna, and Iris fall into is the result of mistakes, selfishness, dishonesty, but mostly caused by a desire to love someone and be loved.  Words became useless in the culminating final act after all the dirty secrets were scattered on the table and Jack hit the road.  

At this wonderfully crafted emotional roadblock in the film, we enter a non-verbal chapter and watch Jack, Hanna, and Iris ponder and work through broken hearts, on their own, to reach forgiveness.  The characters vent and regroup without saying a word.  Then comes the climax marked by verbal clarity and economy, which is a tribute Lynn Shelton.  She exercised supreme restraint at the end, when it was absolutely necessary to do so.

“I’m tired of being dead,” Jack says.  “I’m in love with your sister.”  Jack and Iris – two best friends who are in love and finally admit it – hug and kiss and exchange I love you’s.  “Come here you sperm stealer,” Jack says to Hanna.   This is heart warming and a near perfect ending.  It sounds terrible in my description here.  You had to be there to understand this, so I encourage you to see the film.  

Kid With A Bike

“The Kid With A Bike”

Written and Directed by Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne; starring Cécile de France, Thomas Doret, Jérémie Renier; 2012

“The Kid With A Bike” is constructed in a charmless and frugal manner.  The cinematography and look of the film is casual to a fault.  There are very few close-ups and little intercutting.  Medium range continuous takes are often used to record what is happening in front of the camera.  Medium continuous takes can be very effective sometimes (Woody Allen’s films) but the medium continuous takes in “The Kid With A Bike” seem like a default position, rather than a specific artistic choice.  The narrative takes huge leaps as if the screenwriters forgot to write some of the story and the director was left with nothing to do.  In this case the writer/directors are Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne, and they lacked an outside eye to say there are some huge narrative holes in the story.

For instance, Joanna, a stranger, decides to take Cyril on weekends as a foster child.  There is no reason given, nor do we see Joanna do anything to decide to do this.  Suddenly, with no rationale or transitional scenes she loads Cyril and his bike into her car and off they go.

Cecile de France played Joanna.  Her performance was flat and uninvolved.  Most of the actors appeared uninterested in their characters and uninterested in the film.

Cyril and Joanna don’t connect emotionally and they don’t even seem to like each other.  She takes no interest in him and acts completely bored in his presence.  There is no indication from either of them that they like or need each other, or that a friendship could develop.  They are both emotionally vacant as are all of the other characters in the film.  It’s hard to get involved in a story that is empty of emotion.

The narrative strategy is purposefully anti-motivation.  The characters make willy-nilly life choices and do things for no apparent reason.  This strategy is not successful enough to raise the film to a level of an artistic or philosophical statement.   It simply appears inadequate.

Why does Joanna take in Cyril as a foster child?  Why doesn’t his father want Cyril?  Why does Cyril stab Joanna?  These are just some of the unanswered and hard to understand issues that make it hard to engage in the story.

The story plows ahead with artistic determination like the makers granted themselves permission to do away with organic story development and replace it with contrived events.  This forcefulness makes the viewer an detached observer.

With a title like “The Kid With a Bike” I had high hopes.  I was kept at a distance however, both emotionally and intellectually.  I admire the themes and content and hope for the best as the film unfolds.  But ultimately I was denied access to the heart and soul of the characters and of the film.

“The Kid With a Bike” was almost a good film.  It felt and looked more like an exercise or an experiment that didn’t quite succeed.

Salmon Fishing in the Yemen

Directed by Lasse Hallstrom; written by Simon Beaufoy; based on the novel by Paul Torday; starring emily Blunt (Harriet, Ewan McGregor (Dr. Alfred Jones), Kristin Scott Thomas (Patricia Maxell), Amr Waked (the Sheik); 107 minutes

 This is an excellent film on many levels.  I enjoyed it and recommend it.  “Salmon Fishing in the Yemen” has a very low key to non-existent marketing effort.  It deserves a large audience.  It includes excellent acting, sophisticated themes, intriguing story, fully dimensional characters (except the Sheik) and humor.  It’s an enjoyable, adult film well worth seeing.

Jeff, Who Lives At Home

Written and directed by Jay Duplass and Mark Duplass; starring Jason Segel (Jeff), Ed Helms (Pat), Judy Greer (Linda), Rae Dawn Chong (Carol), Susan Sarandon (Sharon) 

Is there such a thing as destiny?

I got my coffee and chocolate chip cookie, stuffed them in my backpack and entered the theater just in time to see the Lorax tell people to turn off their cell phones and don’t talk during the movie.  There were only four of us in the theater and we all took the message seriously.  I checked my cell.  We were all evenly spaced though out the theater.  I got a perfect seat – middle back, no one in front of me and no one behind me.  It was just me and the screen.  I disappeared.

The Duplay brothers are accomplished and talented film directors and screenwriters.  They know how to make a well-written feature film with heart, honesty, and courage.  “Jeff, Who Lives at Home” follows “Puffy Chair” and looks into what it means to want to love someone and be loved.  It is a portrait of common lives, common aspirations and fate.  That’s what makes it so spectacular.  It’s common.

The Duplay brothers kept it simple.  They created an exquisite and timeless film that elevates the ordinary.

I love the easy going pace of this film.  It feels natural.  It’s all about destiny.  The whole story unfolds like it was supposed to unfold.

The dialog is real and seems like no one wrote it.  It didn’t try to impress or draw attention to itself.  It just is.  I don’t remember any specific lines.  Maybe that’s a good sign.

All the women characters are portrayed as fully dimensional human beings.  Hurray for the Duplay brothers.  (Examine the shameful “The Descendants” and “50/50” for examples of films that objectify women, blame women, and portray them as objects of desire or objects of disdain.)

For me, and probably me alone, a good film makes me want to run home, hug my kids, and tell my wife I love her.  “Jeff, Who Lives at Home” makes me want to do this.  It feels good to want to do this.  What more could you ask for from a movie?

One of my sons lives in Washington DC.  My daughter is on spring break from college in Sarasota, and my other son is busy right now in high school.  I can’t hug them so I called my wife at work to tell her I loved her.  She was pleasantly surprised and asked me if I had just seen a good movie.  It’s nice to know that someone gets you.  That is what every single character in this film wants – for someone to understand them.  Is it too much to ask?  No.  “Jeff, Who Lives at Home” is a celebration of wanting to be understood and loved.

You may have to suspend some of your disbelief during the ending of the movie that includes a water rescue. Think of it as a parable if you want, but don’t let this scene detract from the overall quality of this fine film.  Being in the right place at the right time is not so unbelievable.  It happens quite often.

Perhaps I was moved by the last scene because it brought back memories.  I’ve been in the right place at the right time to save lives.  Was it destiny that I was on the spot at a particular time in a particular place?  Maybe, maybe not.  I think it just happened the way it was supposed to happen.

My summer job in college was lifeguarding at Lake Josephine. For some reason, for the first time ever, I took one the boats with me to the far lifeguard tower for my thirty minute shift.  The boat wasn’t necessary at that end of the beach.  No one had ever brought a boat down there before.  I don’t why I did it except I thought it might come in handy for some reason.  I didn’t give it another thought.

Twenty minutes later a single engine airplane attempted to take off from the lake and crashed into the deepest part of the swimming area, into a crowd of swimmers directly in  front of me.  I jumped off the tower thinking the worst.  The crowd on the beach surged  forward en masse toward the airplane getting in my way.  I whistled and yelled at them to get back to shore.  They mysteriously obeyed like ordered from heaven, like splitting the Red Sea.   They retreated to shore.  I could now row out and do my job. 

The airplane was flipped upside down.  I saw two swimmers struggling in the water, arms flailing. I rowed to the first one, stern first, just like I was trained to do. I could hear people screaming on shore.  Other wise it was very quiet.  Nothing really existed except my boat and the girl I was trying to save.  The second girl was on my mind too.  One at a time.  Don’t think.  One at a time.

I pulled the first girl up, over the stern, and into the boat. Both of her legs her cut off - brown muscle, white bones, and red blood.  A thick slab of her skin hung over the edge of the boat.  I reached over and pulled in the rest of her mangled leg, no foot. I placed it close to her.  It was still connected.  Don’t think.  Her eyes her open, she was alert and speechless.  I knew I had to work fast.

I rowed to the other girl and grabbed her.  I didn’t want to lift her into the boat because I was afraid.  I asked her if she could hang on to the side while I rowed in.  She said she yes and I rowed to shore.

Another set of miracles saved both their lives.  Coincidences of nurses on the beach, and a nearby ambulance, and everyone working together certainly helped save both their lives. 

The ambulances left.  I looked at my boat.  The bottom was filled with her blood.  Now what?  It’s her blood.  It belongs to her.  I tipped it up on its side and rinsed her blood out of the boat and into the lake.  Out of the boat and into the lake, it drained away. 

Without the boat these saves would have been impossible.  The only time I, or anyone else, ever brought a boat down to the far lifeguard tower was on that day at that time.  Never before and never after.  Is there such a thing as destiny?