First, to get it out of the way: many of us will try Deja Vu no matter what any of the rest of us say about the film. And why not? It’s got Denzel Washington, and a gloriously loony plot. Well–glorious for about 20 minutes, and then the film’s a flat bore. Not bad. Worse: boring.
But what I’m here to tell you is about two other films. Old Joy is a small, reflective picture about two once-friends, catching up on a small camping/hiking trip to some hot springs. One friend is on the brink of fatherhood, the other still trapped in his early-twenties, jumping from place to place, smoking a lot of pot, pontificating on matters from string theory to his latest dream with equal serious commitment. The film is very slow-paced; it invites reflection, and like the weed-addled Kurt (Will Oldham), it can seem distracted, aggravatingly out of focus. But all in all, I dug the precision of character development–plot’s well-nigh nonexistent, and we depend on the small moments of dialogue, the cumulative impact of the often-gorgeous photography and the trademark-wistful-Yo-La-Tengo soundtrack. I loved Oldham; I liked the movie. If it was 50 minutes long I might have raved, but at 76 it felt sometimes like 120. But worth your time: the film has the wit to examine how we understand and engage with our sense of purpose in life, and is smart enough to know that answers to such queries are not available to its characters and wouldn’t be much use in a film. You’ve got to work on it yourself, and the film invites and engages.
A smaller but for this viewer even more joyful recommendation: 10 Items or Less is another two-hander, with our focus primarily on the astonishing (and in the film unnamed) Morgan Freeman playing a sort-of-has-been actor thinking about starring in an independent film set in a small quickie-mart. (One of the best jokes of the film is a videotape cover of one of his films, co-starring Ashley Judd, constantly popping up in discount racks.) The other major figure is a cashier played by Paz Vega, who is far too shrewd and biting to stay in her gig. The two wander around for much of a day, as Freeman helps her prep for an interview. Like Old, the film examines our sense of purpose; unlike that film, 10 Items does occasionally slip into platitudes and answers. But it’s so much fun to watch these two actors (and a number of small character parts are fun, as well)–Freeman we know is good, but he rarely gets to really show off just how seemingly effortless his focused specificity can be. (I think it’s his best performance since he “broke” out as a charming, vicious pimp, in Street Smart.) But the wonder was Paz Vega, who I haven’t seen before, who matches MF beat for beat with a specific, small-scale enactment of the insecurities and confidences that drive her character. We were sucked right in, and the film flew by. A real surprise.
I wanted more from Old Joy than I got. I can’t disagree with anything you say–especially the Yo La Tengo love–but the script let me down (perhaps I was primed for the kind of lyricism, poignancy and intelligence that made me fall in love with Junebug). I too liked Oldham but it is the recently married father-to-be through which, I think, we are supposed to find our way in, and I found him to be a sniveling bore. SPOILER: What was up with the neck massage? How did you read that? I didn’t read it as a sexual moment but it certainly was erotic–the most potent action in the film. I guess I need to read more critical responses to this film to figure out where I parted with the conventional wisdom.
I can’t say I was overjoyed with the film, either–and it’d been oversold. But… yeah, there’s some interesting scenes, connections.
I’m not sure about that massage. What struck me as particularly interesting was the way the film stayed on Kent’s face and shoulders, and watched as he intently focused on the work. There’s this hint of former? unrequited? love between the men — but then I found myself constantly trying to name what that “old joy” they’ve lost was, and questioning whether they were ever as happy as they imagine they might once have been. And so on: what do we make of being adults now?
But it did feel stretched, that these small complexities got a bit drowned in the langorous tone and flow of the movie.
I’ve been doing some reading–seems as if the film is meant to be something of an elegy for that neo-romantic/neo-primitive spirit which fueled counter-culture ideology of the late-sixties and early-seventies. The chaos of civilization (Mark continually listens to Air America or some such radio station and the spectator is consistently reminded of the global violence “out there” while Mark’s harridan of a wife rings her husband’s cell phone ad nauseam) bumps up against the more reprehensible destruction of the natural world (Mark and Kent get lost and end up camping in a makeshift garbage dump). The two are searching for a hot springs which seemingly functions as some kind of oasis/greenspace. Kent lovingly articulates how much he misses his best friend and Mark seems to be missing something as well but the overall ambivalent tone of the film keeps things up in the air. Mostly, I couldn’t understand what it was about Mark that made Kent care so much.
this crawled its way up to the top of my netflix queue and since i feel i have been overdosing on american cinematographic meaninglessness (i should not have rewatched the bourne ultimatum: big mistake) and american super-perfect, super-beautiful bodies (i loved the “yes we can” obama youknowwhatiamtalkingabout video, but WHERE ARE THE NORMAL-LOOKING MUSICIANS????), i actually liked this boy movie way more than i should have. maybe i have been in that situation, exactly, trying to capture past intimacies and past joys and realizing they were never there, quite, to start with, were in fact a product of excited imagination, hormonal enthusiasm, all-nighter-fueled giddiness. which makes the wake-up scene, the stiff, slightly aging bodies crawling out of the small tent in that literal dump of a place, folding sleeping bags and pissing the night’s beer just a few yards away, really poignant to me. i think i have actually uttered the sentence: “what came between us? i’ve missed you, man” once or twice myself, feeling immediately embarrassed, not quite knowing what i meant, longing for youth more than closeness, feeling totally and abysmally alone. so yeah, this spoke to me. and the back-rubbing scene, well, you know, we girls do that a lot, touch, and just like these two men we use touch to make each other feel better. looks like ol’ kurt can give a mean massage, and it’s nice that ol’ mark can let himself enjoy it. (the long monologue that precedes that backrub is actually quite wonderful).
i didn’t mind the 76 minutes and i didn’t mind the two calls mark got from his wife and which he seemed not to mind at all either. this film was made in the deep dark hour of the bush regime, when war was following war and there was no end in sight, and it speaks of a lost joy i can totally relate to.
gio,
honestly, sometimes this boy/girl stuff (why are they in boldface?) sounds like pure bullshit. girls spend a lot of time giving each other massages? they do this for emotional comforting? really?? I’m reading a book about the Manson Family right now–it included many many young girls–and it includes a lot of touching but mostly in the service of what the author calls the “creepy-crawly.” and I just want to make sure we don’t start any kind of virtual massaging here.
hey michael, i didn’t say anything about emotional comforting. massages, apparently, feel good to a lot of people. physically. personally, i hate being massaged.
i owe you a reply on that other blog. i’ve been stalling. email?
and yeah, i do think in boy/girl terms. it’s a thing with me, you know? gotta be all that second wave feminism i grew up on. it’s an age giveaway!
i like getting massaged. i don’t really care who does it. though with michael there’s always a happy ending.
but arnab’s a cheapskate, he always takes the hand.
Gio–I’ll look forward to your response, email or at the book blog. I will try to do my part to resurrect it with a post soon.
Old Joy was easily one of my favorite movies of last year. I rented it twice, and could watch it again now. I loved how the dialogue between the two was simultaneously uncomfortable and yet natural. They are two two people who have ended up in very different places, both wondering if where they are is the right spot, but neither exactly envious of the other’s place.
I loved the pace, the actors, the words, the cinematography – everything really.
I think Gio is right on the money that this is a home-front war movie. I would like to rent it again and watch the entire director’s commentary. I did watch the end commentary and I interpreted the final scenes very differently from how the director apparently intended them.
I saw Kurt as descending into homelessness – looking almost exactly like the pictures we’ve seen of Vietnam veterans on city streets with nowhere to go and no one to talk to. Mark goes back to his house and impending child, doing what we can in his own personal way to make things better. But all the time he’s bombarded with the knowledge (through the radio) that the bigger picture is much, much worse than he can ever hope to counteract.
I agree with Mike that it seemed longer than 76 minutes, but I didn’t think this was a bad thing. It was short, but felt to me like the right length.
Aside from the war, this is a completely believable, realistic depiction of a couple of old friends trying to pretend that their friendship is still there, and that they can still connect on different levels years later. It can only ever be forced now – each would have to try very hard now to maintain any level of connection. I relate to this so much it makes me sad.
If you come out and visit me I will rub your shoulders.