Film review: EVERYBODY’S FINE (2009). (Netflix allows all of a 2,000 character review, which to me is like a long tweet, and doesn’t even break a sweat, so permit me to vent my spleen here……..as follows……)
Leaving behind the world of the Fokkers, and the smash box office and cash flow that has provided, our protagonist, Robert De Niro, sets about making a serious movie here, for which we can only applaud. He loses his wife, and after months or solitude, embarks from his modest, neat, well-tended (“I didn’t know your mother did so much work.”) Elmira NY home on a cross-country trip to visit each of his four grown children, with stops in NYC, Chicago, Las Vegas and San Francisco. Everything about the film very good: the acting, the cinematography, the script. (We especially liked how the telephone line theme – connection, communication -- is employed top to bottom, and in different ways, plot, dialogue, graphics.)
Except one thing. The tone. More oppressive than the oppression it purports to stand against. The father figure here vacillates between decidedly unappealing sad sack “pitiable” all the way up to and through “villainous.”
Why? Because, as a factory worker (he put the coating on telephone lines), he dreamed of a better life for his children, and apparently, pushed them a bit. (How exactly, or how bad, we’re never told, we’re left to dream it. After all, your imagination will make it much worse than it might have been in reality – same way you dread going to the dentist, the reality isn’t as bad as the dread.) But in the esoterica of political correctness law, section 101022.subsection A123B22, this makes De Niro not as bad as a serial killer, no, but worse than, let’s say, a drunk driver.
Why? Because the innocent have been slain. By asking his children to dream and achieve, he has killed or nearly so that beautiful pristine spirit that is resident onboard each and every one of us. So Dad is insufferable because he wants his four children to do better in life than himself. “Mom was nice, she listened to us,” the message from the kids said. “You were hard, you pushed us.” So, after having to endure this indignity, how did they turn out? The kids themselves in this movie are a bit of a mixed bag: the eldest is a successful NY artist with a drug problem. No. 2 is a mega-successful ad agency owner. No. 3 is a percussionist, not a conductor (after seeing him rehearse, in sad sack mode, out behind the concert hall, during a break, De Niro asks him what seems like 22 times, “are you sure you’re not a conductor, I thought you were conducting” --- just to be sure you, the viewer, can plainly see what an ass he is, only trouble is, in straining so hard here to bend your mind for you, the filmmaker loses his credibility, even the believer here knows he’s being manipulated). No. 4 child purports to be a successful and wealthy Las Vegas showgirl, but in reality, is a restaurant hostess with child and no husband (but in a thoroughly modern touch, has instead a girlfriend, another sidelong blow vs. the male in our society, who needs ‘em?).
Doesn’t matter today if you are on the left (this film) or the right (remember the little Cuban émigré, Elion Gonzales) side of the political spectrum, we can all join hands and agree that fathers, father figures, and authority, use your imagination --- evil. Best dispensed with. Anything is better than hanging with Dad, whether it’s freedom or capitalism or whatever. So let’s extrapolate a bit. Why do we so hate authority? Because it requires us do something. Your gym teacher was an authority figure. He/she wanted you to be fit. That takes work, discipline. So where is our nation in terms of fitness? Terrible and getting worse. Obesity is now called an “epidemic,” like it’s the bubonic plague or something and it leaps on and kills people. We have entire NBC serials about it, with lead actors > 500 lbs. So we watch, on our couches, eating Tostitos all the while.
Let’s jump over to financial fitness. Work hard, budget, save. Is that where we are? Or is our nation $14 trillion under? Are our states just as bad – Illinois, California and the rest? The housing crisis – live in a mansion you can’t afford (wink, wink). Didn’t turn out well. Yesterday I heard an NPR radio report that said in Oregon the statewide high school tests you must pass to graduate will no longer require speling (sic) skills. Duh. Let’s keep lowering the bar. Hell, let’s throw the damn bar away. I could go on and on and on. Make it easier, make it softer, fuzzier. Don’t ask me to get up off the couch. Don’t make me get to work on time. In fact, don’t make me work at all. If I have sex and have kids, don’t make me get married. It’s invidious but the vibe is everywhere around us. It’s in the air, it’s in the water. The oldest son here, (I won’t betray his fate, maybe you’ll guess anyway), says “It wasn’t your fault, Dad.” But the other 99% of this film screamed that it was. I don’t believe this film, it’s way too facile an explanation for the ills that beset us (blame Dad). I think step one in building a life is to take responsibility for yourself. We need more benevolent coaches, trainers, teachers, believers, dreamers, hands-on Dads – not fewer. Just don’t tell the PC police I said so, ok?
PS The ending contains an original song by Paul McCartney, created for this movie. Watch the extra on the making of it, excellent. Sir Paul never says why he did the song other than that he was asked through "his office". I think it wasn’t for the money. I think it was for the creative challenge, pride, if you will. Something inside the former Beatle that keeps him going long past 64…..wonderful antidote to the ‘woe is me’ tone of the previous 120 minutes…..(he turns 69, btw, June 18, 2011). Paul, we all still love you, way past 64.........
Paul Mccartney - I Want To Come HomeFor so long I was out in the cold,
and I taught myself to believe every story I told.
It was fun hanging onto the moon, heading into the sun,
but it's been too long. Now I wanna come home.
Came so close to the edge of defeat.
But I made my way in the shade, keeping out of the heat.
It was fun shooting out of the stars, looking into the sun,
but it's been too long. Now I wanna come home.
Home. Where's there's nothing but sweet surrender,
to the memories from afar.
Home. To the place where the truth lies waiting,
we remember who we are.
For too long I was out on my own.
Every day I spent trying to prove I could make it alone.
It was fun hanging onto the moon, heading into the sun,
but it's been too long. Now I wanna come home.
For so long I was out in the cold,
but I taught myself to believe every story I told.
It was fun hanging onto the moon heading into the sun,
but it's been too long. Now I wanna come home.
Yeah, it's been too long, now I want to come home.
Been too long, now I want to come home.
====================================================================
And words to the classic, "When I'm 64..."
When I get older losing my hair,
Many years from now.
Will you still be sending me a valentine
Birthday greetings bottle of wine.
If I'd been out till quarter to three
Would you lock the door,
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-four.
You'll be older too,
And if you say the word,
I could stay with you.
I could be handy, mending a fuse
When your lights have gone.
You can knit a sweater by the fireside
Sunday mornings go for a ride.
Doing the garden, digging the weeds,
Who could ask for more.
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-four.
Every summer we can rent a cottage,
In the Isle of Wight, if it's not too dear
We shall scrimp and save
Grandchildren on your knee
Vera, Chuck & Dave
Send me a postcard, drop me a line,
Stating point of view
Indicate precisely what you mean to say
Yours sincerely, wasting away
Give me your answer, fill in a form
Mine for evermore
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-four.
No comments:
Post a Comment