Daily Archives: Thursday, August 13, 2015

  • Love and Mercy

    Bill Pohlad (2014)

    The creative genius of the Beach Boys, Brian Wilson, was anxious from an early stage of the group’s career to work in a recording studio rather than perform to audiences.   The director of Love and Mercy, Bill Pohlad, and the screenwriter, Oren Moverman, respect Wilson’s preferences.  They quickly summarise the Beach Boys’ initial success – reconstructions of performances in live concert and on television, enough to give us our bearings – before concentrating on the protagonist’s private and unusually cloistered professional lives in the years that followed.   The narrative switches between the mid- and late-1960s and twenty years later, by which time Wilson – after a long period of halting creative activity, drugs, alcohol and food addictions, and nervous breakdowns – was under the influence of a psychotherapist called Eugene Landy.  This relationship began when Wilson’s first wife, Marilyn, enlisted Landy’s help.  By the 1980s, according to Love and Mercy, he was not only dictating strategies for improving and maintaining his patient’s mental health; Landy was also Wilson’s de facto legal adviser and commercial manager.  Oren Moverman’s screenplay is a reworking of a script by Michael Alan Lerner called ‘Heroes and Villains’.  That Beach Boys’ song may have been rejected as the title for the eventual film, in favour of one of Wilson’s later compositions, but the moral distinction of the main characters reflected in the title of Lerner’s script certainly holds good in Love and Mercy.

    Pohlad’s and Moverman’s juxtaposition of the youth and middle age of their hero’s life isn’t a novel idea.  What is surprising is that the twenty-something and forty-something versions of Wilson are played by two different actors, Paul Dano and John Cusack respectively.  (Once the central figure in a biopic has reached adulthood, you expect her or him to remain in the same body for the duration – however many decades the life lasts, however much aging make-up is required.)   Perhaps this isn’t so unexpected in view of Oren Moverman’s track record:  he co-wrote the screenplay for Todd Haynes’s I’m Not There (2007).  That film, however (although I don’t think much of it), has a thematic rationale for its multiple incarnations of Bob Dylan that hardly applies to Love and Mercy.  Paul Dano, chubbier than he usually is, somewhat resembles the young Brian Wilson; John Cusack doesn’t look like the older Wilson, or like Dano.  It’s clear from the start, even in the brief clips of the Beach Boys on stage, that Paul Dano has got Brian Wilson:  he’s alert and expressive in ways I’ve not seen from this actor before.  Dano is so engaging that at first you miss him whenever John Cusack is on screen instead but Cusack’s interpretation of Wilson gradually wins you over.  Once his psychological problems start to take hold in the 1960s part of the story and you fully understand his circumstances in the 1980s, it makes a kind of sense that Brian Wilson is literally a different man.  The question of whether there’s a spiritual continuity between two actors playing one person in the same film is always a particularly subjective judgment.  I’m not sure I did sense this kind of link between Dano and Cusack but that didn’t seem to matter – the Dano Wilson and the Cusack Wilson feel like complementary characterisations.  For example:  Dano animates Wilson’s creativity, a quality that’s inevitably submerged in the man Cusack is playing; Dano has relatively little opportunity to dramatise Wilson’s emotional neediness – an opportunity that Cusack is given and which he takes.

    There’s a third strong performance on the heroic side of the cast list – from Elizabeth Banks, as Melinda Ledbetter, the car salesperson who eventually became Brian Wilson’s second wife.  (They first meet when Brian buys a Cadillac from the showroom where Melissa works.)   The script presents Melinda as entirely admirable – loyal, loving, courageous in her resistance to Eugene Landy.  Elizabeth Banks does well to suggest what it costs Melinda to achieve this.  Banks is especially good at the nuances of smiling:  Melinda’s sunny expression is a mask and a shield as often as it’s an expression of pleasure or joy.   As the chief villain Landy, Paul Giamatti does a fine job.  Landy’s tyrannical domination of Wilson is manifested in increasingly extreme and outrageous ways:  the nasty wit that Giamatti brings to the role is always there – he also gives Landy a streak of growing desperation that strengthens the character.  Bill Camp is less successful as Wilson’s father Murry, the Beach Boys’ manager until they dismissed him in 1964.   In his important first scene – Brian, anxious to impress his father in spite of the rift between them, plays the evolving ‘God Only Knows’ on the piano and sings the lyric to Murry – I felt Camp needed to be either more remote or more deliberately hurtful in his response.  He doesn’t get a level of hostility that gives Paul Dano what he needs to react to.   It’s obviously not Camp’s fault that each of Murry’s subsequent appearances in the story is rather crudely conceived.  The writing of the smallish roles of the other Beach Boys – neither heroes nor villains – isn’t inspired either, although Jason Abel is amusing when Mike Love complains, in humourless exasperation, that on Pet Sounds ‘even the happy songs sound sad’.

    The studio sequences are absorbing and Bill Pohlad’s description of the creation of ‘Good Vibrations’ made me like it more than I ever have before.  Pohlad and Oren Moverman have an understanding of pop biopic conventions and audience expectations – by conforming to and departing from these, they make Love and Mercy distinctive.  We never hear a song in its entirety:  this is tantalising and sometimes frustrating but it chimes with the emotionally unsettled quality of the story being told.  The closing stages of the film are more conventional.  There’s a degree of anti-climax in that but it’s a relief too that the good end happily and the bad unhappily – in fact.  Because Brian Wilson is having such a traumatic time throughout, this is one occasion when you’re pleased to see closing images of the protagonist in real life and legends telling you he’s enjoyed a sustained renaissance as a singer-songwriter and an enduring marriage to the woman from whom, more than thirty years ago, he bought a Cadillac.

    15 July and 9 September 2015

     

  • The Long Goodbye

    Robert Altman (1973)

    I never really got the hang of the film – probably because (a congenital defect) I never really engaged with the plot – but it is immediately beguiling.  The movement of the images of Los Angeles in the late evening combines with the spaced-out voices of the prostitutes (that’s what I assumed them to be anyway) who share Philip Marlowe’s apartment block to create a texture that’s amusing, alluring and unsettling all at once.  Because I don’t much like private eye films anyway and the conventional landscape for Raymond Chandler adaptations has no emotive power for me, I’m easily receptive to the sensory scheme of the film – in which the coloured lights and freeways of LA and beautiful beachscapes replace black-and-white mean streets.  A large part of the pleasure of The Long Goodbye is seeing Altman apply his unique talents to a genre picture – and revivify it – yet it still feels ultimately like an exercise.  Perhaps this is partly because the film references are so salient and self-aware:  the picture begins and ends with ‘Hooray for Hollywood’ on the soundtrack; during police interrogation, Marlowe asks, ‘Is this where I’m supposed to say, “What’s all this about?”?’;  the Malibu Colony gatekeeper (Ken Sansom) does lame impressions of Barbara Stanwyck and James Stewart;  when the gangster Marty Augustine (Mark Rydell) orders his henchmen to strip, one of them mutters, ‘George Raft didn’t have to do this’.  (The henchmen include Arnold Schwarzenegger in one of his first roles.)

    Even so, the emotional heft and lift of the film are often potent.  The lighting, by Vilmos Zsigmond, is manicheistically expressive:  patches of sunlight deepen the stripes of shadow with which they’re juxtaposed.  The subdued, foolish nobility of Elliott Gould’s Marlowe – and his consciousness of his powerlessness – are touching and make the piece seem genuinely regretful.  Although Nina van Pallandt is evidently not a trained actress, the lack of sharpness of her line readings actually gives them a sense of surprise and her portrait of the femme fatale Ellen Wade an unusual freshness.  (There are other performers – such as Jim Bouton as the murderous Terry Lennox – whose acting, while different from what you expect, is striking mainly because it’s just bad.)  John Williams’s score is highly effective in its insistency.

    The conception and look of Roger Wade, the hard-drinking, blocked writer, are so Hemingwayesque as to make it difficult for Sterling Hayden to give him much life outside the idea.  Even so, he has a gripping set-to with Henry Gibson, as the unfathomably self-possessed and creepy doctor from Wade’s detox clinic, and Wade’s eventual disappearance under the Pacific Ocean seems mysteriously apt:  he has the look of a sea god.  There are also several sequences involving animals that are unaccountable and which stay with you.   At the start, Marlowe’s cat is hungry and his owner goes to the supermarket.  They’re out of the kind of food the cat likes; when Marlowe gets back to his apartment, he transfers the catfood he’s bought into the empty tin that contained the preferred brand.  The cat turns up his nose at this feeble attempt at subterfuge.    On his arrival at the Wades’ beach house, Marlowe is confronted by their Doberman – who continues to bark threateningly at him whenever they meet.  As Roger Wade wanders out to sea, his wife runs into the surf in desperate search of him, with Marlowe and the Doberman in pursuit.  The dog’s barking, prancing presence here is very touching, especially when he comes up from the waves with his master’s cane between his teeth.

    11 March 2009

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