Film

All or Nothing (2002)

Suffering comes to us all. For some it seems to be greater than others. This is especially true, it seems, when speaking about the poor, who have less means to bathe themselves in comfort and hide from the harsh realities of life. Mike Leigh’s All or Nothing is populated entirely with poor and suffering people. Three families in an apartment complex are at the center of the story. Everyone in them is struggling to get by, and each has their own sets of problems. There is a harshness to their realities that is palpable, both in dialogue and setting. Words are not minced with these people. They tear each other down with just about everything that comes out of their mouths. Yet none of them seems to have any idea of the effects they might be having on others.In this oppressive climate are the three families: Maureen and her daughter Donna; Ron, Carol, and their daughter Samantha; and Phil, Penny, and their two kids Rachel and Rory. Many shots throughout most of the film isolate the characters from one another – tons of close-ups with very few two-shots. Even at times when there are two-shots, such as in Phil’s cab, they are non-traditional, with characters that aren’t even looking at one another. The people in this film are isolated from any real human relations, even from those with whom they should be most at ease.

The three families end up providing us with different responses to those periods of suffering we find ourselves in at times. Once Donna turns up pregnant, the already shaky relationship with her mother could go either way. In large part, it depends on her mom’s response to the situation. Will it be delicate or harsh or somewhere in between? In the home of Ron and Carol, their daughter Samantha is screaming for attention, going anywhere for it – whether it is to the oddball Jason or the abusive Craig. Whenever she approaches her parents though, they seem to be caught up in their own world of drinking and self-absorption. However, the film finally settles in on Phil and Penny, and as they go through tragedy, we see old wounds raised to the surface. The emotions are raw, the hurt is strong, and the tears flow.

Each of these situations presents in its own way, a response to the unideal situations in our lives. In some ways, they are cautionary tales, helping us to see so easily the kinds of things these people do to hurt each other, often unintentionally. Ultimately the film honors selflessness and humility, as characters are humbled before one another in light of changed circumstances and new information. Phil’s comments near the film’s conclusion illustrate this beautifully. He could easily take a hard line after all the hurt and sort of make this a farewell to his old life. In the same way, Penny could be so overwhelmed with hurt by his words that she not hear where he’s really come from and throw him out. However, both of these characters humble themselves before one another.

And on that final sequence of scenes: The scene immediately preceding the big blow-up was so heart wrenching, as Phil reaches to put his arm around Penny and she pushes him away. And that scene is filmed so perfectly, because he’s allowed to hold it there for a moment, making the viewer hope beyond hope that resolution will come. And just as that thought really begins to take hold, wham, it’s cut off. But that leads to a conversation that is so rich, so real, and such a great payoff after the harsh and largely ambiguous presentation up to that point. I found myself yearning for these two to connect with each other, and in contrast to the many isolated close-ups throughout the film, this scene culminates in two people as close as possible to one another, face to face, heads touching, looking into each other’s eyes. There is real connection there.

It’s a beautifully acted, beautifully executed film that deserves attention and reflection. The dialogue is just right. The characters are real, flesh and blood, human beings. I have had arguments like some of these, not with the words or the topics necessarily, but with the rhythms of language and emotion. This being my third Mike Leigh film (Secrets and Lies, Topsy-Turvy), I guess its time I give him a bit more attention than I have to this point.

Crimes and Misdemeanors (1989)

In Crimes and Misdemeanors, we have a story about morality, guilt, and the human condition. It tells the story of Judah Rosenthal (Martin Landau), an accomplished ophthalmologist and community leader. He runs in the same circles with the rich, and sometimes even the famous. He is widely respected, adored by his wife and children, having seemingly anything a man could want. This is, of course, the perfect set-up for his downfall. For, in fact, everything is not well. He has been unfaithful for going on two years now. And having just ended the relationship, his old flame Dolores (Anjelica Huston) now wants to get even. She wants to tell his wife. She wants to blackmail him to leave his wife for her. She is quite emotional, and takes to disrupting his “regular” life more and more often. To what lengths will he go to keep her quiet? What will a man do to protect his reputation and the comfortable life he has been living? If he goes too far, does that old life even exist for him any longer?These are the questions that plague Judah’s experience throughout the film. As the film moves along, and things progress, that final question grows in importance. Finally, when he has Dolores killed, we see the significant consequences this has on his life, his conscience, and what it will have on his family. Surely, now, he will confess. But he doesn’t, and time passes, and feelings dull, and we see the rationalization take place that we all know too well. We know it because we do it. Maybe it’s not for a murder, but it takes place in our lives every day in the smallest of ways. This film is pinpoint accurate in its depiction of the human condition. If left to our impulses, we will make every effort to save ourselves regardless of the claims of justice on our lives. How do we live with ourselves? We forget.

Writer/director Woody Allen is focused in this effort. He does not allow his character (Cliff) to dominate the proceedings with his self-absorbed, self-loathing introspection. But he does this great thing with his character of Cliff at the end of the film. As he sits there, contradicting Judah’s story and arguing for the happy ending that leads to justice, writer and director Allen is telling us just the opposite – that no, injustice takes place all the time. Rationalization takes place all the time. We humans just can’t see straight. Even those of us with the power to help people see clearly can’t see clearly ourselves. It’s significant that the touchstone in this film is the blind rabbi. He does not rely on his earthly sight to get through life. He has something deeper, more significant, and more reliable than that. He has faith – which is just the thing that Judah lacks.

This is such a well-written, well-acted piece that is filled with truth. Go see it now.

Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975)

Having seen this twice now, my admiration for this film is unquestioned. It tells the story of four people who go missing at Hanging Rock in South Australia at the turn of the twentieth century. An all-girls school travels to the mysterious rock for a picnic on St. Valentines Day -mid-summer for them. Against their better judgment, some go exploring on the rock and do not return.

The search for the girls spans several days. Nothing is found, neither clothes nor bodies. A week out, one girl is found, amazingly still alive, apparantly having had no food or water the entire time. Aside from some cuts and bruises, she appears unharmed, yet has no memory of her time on the rock.

The mystery is the center of this film, but what brings it to the level of greatness is its keen eye toward those affected by the mystery. The school is as foreboding as ever, and the principal, Mrs. Appleyard, appears to be progressively losing her grip on things. After the incident, some of the girls are understandably pulled from the school for safety reasons. Employees are having a difficult time coping with the loss. Yet we begin to see the cracks in Mrs. Appleyard, with her hair becoming disheveled to heavy drinking, and finally, looking like death itself, in her mourning clothes, as she is told about Sara’s accident. She becomes representative of the way this tragedy and ongoing mystery affects them all.

The look, the music, the dialogue, and the actors all provoke a profound sense of mystery about the proceedings. Director Peter Weir evokes mystery with all of these elements. As the images float across the screen, Weir often places blurred objects in the foreground, as if to obscure our vision slightly. It’s as if we don’t see all that is going on. Our view is limited. In the same way, Weir’s shots of the rock itself are either from miles away, or they are perspectival. We see what people on the rock see. We have no idea where on the rock they are, or where they have and haven’t searched. Maybe they don’t know either. Maybe that’s the point. As the old man states near the finale of this film: some questions have answers, and some don’t.

And this one doesn’t – Weir allows the mystery to linger for us. The tragedy of these people stays with us. They are constantly comparisoned with swans, and flowers fill the frames throughout. Just like the elegant birds and the stirking wildflowers, these beautiful and delicate young women have been taken from those who love them, and there just are no easy answers.