Monthly Archives: August 2017

  • A Ghost Story

    David Lowery (2017)

    The title is as simply explanatory as the title of David Lowery’s Ain’t Them Bodies Saints (2013) was baffling.  The two films have things in common, though:  both are love stories, set in Texas, with Casey Affleck and Rooney Mara in the leads.  The third major presence in Lowery’s latest is a house – where the Affleck-Mara couple live and which, after he’s died in a car accident, the ghost of C (Affleck) haunts, persisting there even once M (Mara) has moved away.  A Ghost Story was filmed in a few weeks, in the late summer of 2016, for only $100,000.  In keeping with its small budget, it’s getting noticed thanks principally to its central image.  C’s wraith appears in the simplest and most primitive of ghostly forms – a white sheet with two eyeholes.  I found A Ghost Story increasingly exasperating but I’m glad I stayed for the Q&A with David Lowery that followed the screening I went to at Curzon Soho – and not just because there were some good, unusually succinct questions.  Lowery was personable, articulate and candid about the development and making of the film.  He didn’t change my mind about it but he clarified a good deal.  If I’d left without hearing him, my feelings about A Ghost Story would be more negative than they are.

    C’s death occurs only ten or so minutes into the film but these are enough to give real substance to his life with M.   A musician, he is sometimes preoccupied with composing, sometimes happily relaxed in her company, as she is in his (it’s not clear what her work is).  They disagree about leaving the house – she wants to but he’d rather stay.  M recollects moving from one place to another when she was young and that she always used to leave a secret note buried in the house she was leaving.  Giving the characters initials instead of names, as the cast list does, is, as usual, irritating in the sense that it implies they’re something more – or less – than individuals.  That contradicts what the actors achieve here in their short time on screen together.  (C and M don’t, of course, use the initials as a form of address – they, quite believably, don’t call each other anything.)

    A scene of the couple in bed together, caressing one other before falling sleep, includes the first of several long takes in A Ghost Story.   It’s also the best such take, conveying a warmth and intimacy between C and M that makes the death that follows more shocking and whose residue lasts throughout the film.  Another long take comes in a hospital morgue.  After M and a nurse have left, the camera stays on the corpse, now covered by a sheet, until C’s ghost sits up and rises from the trolley on which his body was lying.  The impact of this is, if anything, reduced by the length of the shot.  Even if the viewer isn’t already aware, through prior knowledge of the film, of what’s about to happen, s/he is naturally primed to expect something to happen:  the longer the image on screen stays the same, the less surprising the change that eventually occurs.  A long-take sequence that shows a woman – presumably a friend and/or neighbour – calling in at the house while M is out, writing a note and leaving it with a chocolate pie is puzzling.  The woman (Liz Franke) doesn’t reappear.  It’s hard to see what the real-time description of her visit brings to a dramatic film (as distinct from, say, an installation in an art gallery, which A Ghost Story occasionally suggests).

    There may however be a whimsical explanation for that sequence – in the chocolate pie.  Soon afterwards, this supplies the longest take of all, as M eats the entire pie and takes some nine minutes (nearly a tenth of the film’s total running time) to do so[1].  Rooney Mara’s conspicuous consumption made for some entertaining conversation in the Q&A – to everyone’s relief, Mara didn’t have to repeat the take – but it appears to show nothing that abbreviation would have missed.  After not long at all, the scene is impressive only in its refusal to stop.  Once you’ve seen this marathon sequence, you wonder if David Lowery wanted to anticipate it in the earlier one of the woman caller – as if warning us that the wretched pie itself has supernatural properties:  the power, whenever it’s on screen, of transfixing the camera.

    More problematic is the incoherence of the ghost’s existence though, from what he said in the Q&A and has been quoted as saying in interviews, this isn’t a problem for the writer-director.  How well you get on with A Ghost Story depends a lot on how much you’re able and willing to suspend not so much disbelief as thought:  David Lowery is banking on the audience accepting that, because this is a supernatural piece, anything goes.  Although the film’s glacial pace and meditative ambience may be commercially heedless, Lowery isn’t above exploiting spooky screen conventions to suit his immediate purpose.  Things go bump in the night while C and M are in bed and they get up to investigate.  This is effective in fooling the viewer into expecting a more familiar haunted house film than the one Lowery delivers but he doesn’t subsequently explain the cause of the sounds.  At one point, C’s ghost launches into traditional poltergeist behaviour – smashing plates and so on – but this spectacular outburst is a one-off.  Here too, there’s an immediate impact, not least because the activity is witnessed by the two young children of the house’s new tenant (Sonia Acevedo), but what is its motivation?  The Wikipedia plot synopsis explains that C is ‘deeply aggravated by boredom and loneliness one night’.  He’d have much stronger grounds for such feelings in a later episode, when the house has different occupants, a party is taking place, and a character shown in the cast list as Prognosticator (Will Oldham) delivers a lengthy monologue about the futility of human existence and endeavour in a universe that is bound to die.  (Some of this – the stuff about making art in the vain hope of achieving some sort of endurance – seems to be Lowery speaking for himself.)  On this occasion, the poltergeist effects are relatively muted.  The other guests must welcome the onset of flickering lights in the hope that they’re enough to shut the Prognosticator up but it’s a mystery why C doesn’t put on a bigger show:  if post-mortem existence entails being stuck with windbags at parties  it must be a fate worse than death.  (Insult-to-injury bathos is in vogue this summer – witness the recent TV adaptation of The Handmaid’s Tale.  As if undergoing systematised sexual abuse in a theocratic dystopia wasn’t bad enough, the heroine also repeatedly had to play Scrabble.)

    C isn’t fated to haunt the house – he chooses to be there.  The ghost makes its way back from the hospital morgue and is seen approaching the house.  We know that C felt an attachment to the place that M didn’t share; we nevertheless suppose that C’s reasons for returning to the house must include wanting to be ‘with’ M.  Since his ghost can travel through space, why does it stay put after M has moved out – especially as C’s quest in the house appears to be to retrieve the note that M has left behind and secreted in a wall (and thereby achieve some kind of reconnection with her)?  A question along those lines was put to David Lowery after the screening.  In the course of the Q&A, we learned the following.  Lowery has often become attached to houses where he’s lived.  He loves the idea of time capsules.  The disagreement between C and M about leaving the house was inspired by an actual argument between Lowery and his wife.  His approach to writing the screenplay for A Ghost Story (which he completed unusually quickly for him) was ‘instinctive’.  He found he couldn’t take the Rooney Mara character further, then reached the point where he could no longer move the ghost forward in time so had to go backwards instead.  The contradictions and discontinuities of A Ghost Story, in other words, are meant to be ironed out and unified by the fact that they all express how Lowery’s mind was working as he wrote and directed the film.  It’s not surprising that he says he’s more satisfied with this movie than with anything else he’s so far done (though he’s only thirty-six and this is only his third feature).  It comes across as the personally meaningful picture he set out to make.   It doesn’t, however, convey many meanings to the audience – unless they’ve read about Lowery’s intentions beforehand.

    Years pass, occupants of the house come and go, C’s ghost remains on the premises.  It’s clear by now that his attempts to recover M’s note – something which the ghost appears to be ‘physically’ capable of doing – will be inexplicably (and conveniently) intermittent.  His latest attempt is interrupted by a bulldozer (the irrefutable demolition of the house has the unfortunate effect of realising the Prognosticator’s words).  A multi-storey building materialises on the ground where C and M’s home once stood.  On completion of the skyscraper, C’s ghost looks out from its top floor at the cityscape that has replaced the former green-belt.  The ghost jumps off the edge of the building.  After this ‘suicide’ it comes to on the same location in the nineteenth century – the prairie where a group of settlers are camped.  A little girl among them writes on a piece of paper and hides it under a rock.  She hums a tune that echoes music composed by C.  The ghost hears in the distance the whoops of Native Americans and turns back to find the settler family slaughtered.  He looks at the corpse of the little girl, which decomposes as the land around her changes.  This kicks off a re-run of the entire history of the site, which culminates in C and M’s arrival at the house and their life together there.  This doesn’t take long in screen time; you register the contrast between the rapid passage of the ages the ghost hangs around and the ‘eternity’ of the real-time, long-take descriptions of action during a few minutes.  But you register it as a cinematic device – one that undermines any feeling that the ghost’s death sentence is painfully long-lasting.  Similarly, the plunge from the skyscraper, as an isolated image, is compelling but it’s a highlight at odds with the film’s low-tech visual distinctiveness.

    Lowery says the look of the protagonist was his starting point – that he’d wanted for some years to make a film with a white-sheeted ghost at its centre.  He explained in the Q&A that this proved harder to achieve than he expected.   Casey Affleck is hardly a physical giant but a king-sized sheet wasn’t enough to conceal him entirely; there was much more work for the costume designer (Annell Brodeur) than is obvious.   The sheet conceals a helmet and layers of undergarments that were necessary in order to keep the eyeholes in place and for the outfit to drape satisfactorily. The ghost’s appearance occasionally calls to mind a hatless Klansman but otherwise has charm and magnetism, especially at first.  The figure’s stillness – its inability to make its presence felt to M – is poignant as it watches her cry, play C’s music (written by Daniel Hart), even eat the chocolate pie.  There’s a strong sense that it’s C’s ghost rather than M who is the more bereaved.  Another ghost haunts the house opposite (with David Lowery under a floral-patterned sheet).  The tweeness of subtitling the two wraiths’ signs to one other is largely overcome by what gets said between them – particularly when C’s ghost asks who the other ghost is waiting for and the reply is ‘I can’t remember’.  The eventual collapse of both apparitions, leaving just a piece of fabric on the ground, is effective.  The flowered sheet (containing the spirit of an old lady, according to Lowery in the Q&A) gives up the ghost when she decides whoever it is she’s waiting for isn’t going to come.  C follows suit when he finally extracts M’s note from the wall and reads it.  We don’t see what it says but we already knew the film would end at this point.

    It’s not Rooney Mara’s fault that her role is underwritten but I wasn’t sure if it was intentional that her acting blurs the boundary between the living and the dead in the way it did for me.   Mara is fine in the pre-mortem introduction but her grieving M has a marmoreal, sleepwalking quality.  A Ghost Story marks Casey Affleck’s first appearance since Manchester by the Sea and can hardly fail to be of interest to anyone who admired his work in Kenneth Lonergan’s film as much as I did.  In Lee Chandler, Affleck and Lonergan created the most memorable character in American cinema of the present decade (and, to my delighted surprise, were both rewarded with Oscars).  You could say that A Ghost Story is the second consecutive Affleck film in which he’s played someone existing in an afterlife.  On this occasion, though, it’s difficult to say how good he is – once he’s under the sheet.  An actor can be eloquent on screen in spite of his face being invisible:  John Hurt in part of The Elephant Man and Michael Fassbender in most of Frank are examples that come to mind.  But Hurt and Fassbender could use the rest of their body and had lines to speak; Affleck isn’t allowed either of those opportunities.  Anthony Lane in the New Yorker, who remarks how expressive Affleck is in A Ghost Story, may well be seeing things in his movement that I’m missing.  I can’t help wondering, though, if the impression of expressiveness partly depends on unconsciously imagining Affleck’s face beneath his disguise.  We know, from the few minutes he has in the film sans sheet how much Casey Affleck communicates when we can actually see him.

    3 August 2017

    [1] Online articles reveal a difference of opinion about the length of the sequence:  some say it’s nine minutes, others that it’s only four.  A possible explanation for this difference is that the shot changes halfway through.   The scene certainly feels longer than four minutes.

  • The Big Sick

    Michael Showalter (2017)

    ‘An awkward true story,’ announces the poster for The Big Sick – a little awkwardly.  The true story is that of Kumail Nanjiani and Emily V Gordon, the married couple who wrote Michael Showalter’s comedy.  The Big Sick is based on the early history of their relationship.  A serious illness that really did strike Gordon down figures prominently.  Her alter ego, renamed Emily Gardner, is played on screen by Zoe Kazan.  Kumail Nanjiani plays himself.  The film is too long (124 minutes) and the excessive length could have something to do with its real-life basis.  Gordon’s recovery from illness may well have seemed a long haul to her and Nanjiani but the cinema audience receives it – and the halting resumption of their romance – as conventional devices to delay the necessary romcom happy ending.  In spite of this, The Big Sick is absorbing and perceptive and, except for its title, one of the year’s most appealing films so far.

    Like Get Out, another good new American film of 2017, The Big Sick has at its centre an interracial romance.  Unlike Jordan Peele’s horror comedy, Showalter’s film is hardly alarming – and subversive only from the point of view of traditional Pakistani Muslims, which Kumail’s parents (Anupam Kher and Zenobia Shroff) are.  The family came to America when Kumail and his elder brother Naveed (Adeel Akhtar) were boys but the parents cleave to customary cultural expectations of their sons.  Naveed has acceded to an arranged marriage, in which he’s now content.  Visits to the family home in Chicago of a succession of potential Pakistani brides for Kumail are a running joke in the film.  Each time he goes to see his parents, so does the next candidate to be his wife:  his mother unfailingly pretends that the young woman’s call is a chance drop-in.  Kumail is exasperated but he’s to some extent a closet rebel.  During family meals, he’ll excuse himself between main course and dessert for a prayer session.  Alone in his room, he looks at his phone instead of praying but he doesn’t openly argue with his parents’ religious orthodoxy.  As well as failing to get married, he’s proving a disappointment to them on the jobs front.  He writes and performs stand-up comedy, driving an Uber cab on the side to pay rent on a tiny apartment.  (His flatmate is Chris (Kurt Braunohler), an ever-hopeful, always hopeless fellow stand-up.)  In one of his onstage routines, Kumail lists, in descending order of desirability, the occupations that Pakistani parents want to see their children in – doctor, lawyer, ISIS, stand-up comedian.

    It’s during a club performance that he first encounters Emily.  She calls out – according to Kumail, heckles him – from the audience.  They have a drink afterwards and go back to his place.  She’s a graduate student in Chicago and preparing for exams, a main reason why she repeatedly tells Kumail she doesn’t want a serious relationship at present.  They’re in one, however, until Emily discovers a cigar box containing photographs of all the prospective brides lined up for Kumail.  He truthfully assures her that they mean nothing to him but admits he’s also keeping Emily a secret from his parents and is uncertain whether he and she can have a future together, in view of his family situation.  Emily walks out on him.  The next time Kumail sees her, several weeks later, she’s in a hospital bed.  On the eve of her exams, she falls ill with a mystery virus.  One of her friends contacts Kumail, asking him to visit Emily in hospital.  The doctors are anxious to put her in a medically induced coma; in the absence of anyone else to sign the consent form, it’s Kumail who uneasily does so, before contacting Emily’s parents.  They hotfoot it to Chicago and a series of hospital vigils begins.  These are doubly tense, thanks to Emily’s serious condition and the fact that her mother, who knows the circumstances of her daughter’s break-up with Kumail, is predisposed against him.

    Up to this point, the film has had plenty of acute charm and witty lines.  Once The Big Sick goes into hospital, it achieves something more difficult.  The tone naturally alters but, rather than inserting a slab of sentimental drama to follow the predominating comedy of the earlier stages, the direction and script mix funny and serious convincingly.  Michael Showalter is much helped in this by Holly Hunter and Ray Romano, as Emily’s parents, Beth and Terry.  Hunter and Romano create persuasive eccentrics and have crack comic timing; they’re wonderfully entertaining.   Beth and Terry are something of an odd couple geographically and culturally – she’s from rural North Carolina, he’s a New Yorker.  It transpires there’s been bad blood between them since Terry was briefly unfaithful.  After the ice between the Gardners and Kumail has begun to melt, each of Beth and Terry has a one-to-one scene with him.  Credible as the outpourings that can occur talking with someone you hardly know and don’t expect to see much in future, these scenes are among the best in the film.  They include such cherishable exchanges as:

    Terry:  Let me tell you something.  Love isn’t easy.  That’s why they call it love.

    Kumail:  I don’t really get that-

    Terry:  I know.  I just thought I could start saying something and something smart would come out.

    Beth and Terry are splendid individual creations but The Big Sick is too simply approving of Emily’s background and ‘freedom’ in order to oppose it to Kumail’s lack of the same.  Although it’s refreshing – and pleasing proof of the freedom of expression that Kumail Nanjiani has actually achieved – to see this kind of cultural critique on the cinema screen (and doing well at the box office), the constraints and anachronisms of Kumail’s heritage are pushed too hard, in efforts to generate both comedy and conflict.   A few things register poignantly, especially a scene in which one of Kumail’s brides-in-waiting (Vella Lovell) tells him how wearying she finds the arranged marriage set-up.  She makes it clear too that she’s genuinely attracted to Kumail but he still says no.  There’s some forced and implausible plotting in this aspect of the film, however.   It’s surprising that Emily, as a psychology graduate student, is stunned by the revelation of Pakistani marriage customs and Kumail’s divided feelings about his family (they infuriate him but he loves them nonetheless).  The rift between Kumail and Emily may well reflect the experiences of the real Nanjiani and Gordon; in the movie, the motivation for it seems insufficient, a convenient contrivance.

    Kumail Nanjiani, a well-known name in American television but new to me, evidently loves the stand-up world where he earned his comedy stripes.  I’m not sure if the unfunny stand-up stuff in the film is always meant to be so; at any rate, the script tends to be funnier outside the club spotlight.  (The several Islamist terrorist jokes in the script are uncomfortable but they’re good.)  Nanjiani, the embodiment of the film’s unassuming wit, underplays charmingly:  he conveys Kumail’s emotions gently and makes them genuine – and you can see this is down to acting skill rather than because he’s re-enacting autobiography.  It’s a tribute to him and Zoe Kazan, given their different starting points, that they seem on the same performing wavelength.  Kazan too is emotionally believable:  you miss her while Emily’s unconscious (which she is for a fair amount of screen time).  In the supporting cast, Holly Hunter and Ray Romano are outstanding but Adeel Akhtar does well again, in spite of a skinny role.

    The Big Sick develops a leitmotif of endings being threatened and somehow avoided.   This begins at an early stage.  After she and Kumail first have sex, Emily rings for a cab to take her home from his apartment:  the phone of the nearest Uber driver goes off, next to her in bed.  She tells him a number of times subsequently that it’s over but it’s not.  Then they really do part, until she’s ill; then it looks as if her life may be about to end.  A similar pattern emerges in Kumail’s family relationships, once the tensions between him and his parents have burst into the open:  they disown him but he refuses to be disowned.  Kumail is an unusual and winning combination – an apparently unassertive fellow who doesn’t take no for an answer.  Once Emily’s out of hospital, the dynamic changes somewhat.  It’s up to her, the reluctant one, to get the relationship with Kumail properly restarted.  At the very last moment she does what she has to do.  He’s moved to New York and is performing in a club there when a young woman in the audience heckles him … This moment-of-reunion-that-will-last-a-lifetime is a generic requirement – so is the reconciliation between Emily’s parents that wraps up their subplot neatly.  But there’s enough talent, truth and originality in The Big Sick to send you out of the cinema in a very good mood.

    1 August 2017

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