For Feisty Feminists

Andrew Garfield is getting a lot of end-of-year awards attention for his work in The Social Network, and while he does solid work in that movie, it’s his role in Never Let Me Go that really breaks your heart.

Garfield plays Tommy, a young man who is curiously child-like - mature in certain ways, but never fully grasping the limitations of  the situation that these young people find themselves in. (Spoiler: they’re clones and their organs will be harvested once they grow up). He has been protected from the world, but he also knows a few things. His body language is childish - he jumps in puddles, and in the scene pictured at left (from L-R Carey Mulligan, Keira Knightley, and Garfield) he stares in wonder at the menu at a diner, and later you see him sitting backwards in his chair, his body language perfectly capturing that of a child fascinated by the world around them. Yet he also offers comfort and security to Mulligan’s Kathy, and has an emotional maturity around certain issues, including sex.

But seeing it slowly dawn on Tommy that there are no ‘deferrals’ - that being in love does not mean he can delay his donations - is the most heart-breaking part of the movie, a flawed film that nevertheless packs an emotional punch. Unlike Kathy, who takes the news with grace, almost nonchalance, as if she knew that the answer would be no, Tommy looks legitimately horrified. Garfield makes the ensuing emotional breakdown, extreme as it is, true to this sad, innocent character. Though all the performances in the movie are good, it is Garfield that worms his way under your skin and stays there.

In The Social Network, Rooney Mara plays Erica Albright, the young woman who opens the film by breaking up with our anti-hero Mark Zuckerberg, and comes back halfway through to cut him down to size for the things he wrote about her online. It’s a great, full performance in two short scenes, but Mara does a lot with her screentime. She adeptly handles Aaron Sorkin’s rapid-fire dialogue; she shows the transition from admiring and being interested in Mark to being fed up and wanting nothing to do with him, in a few minutes time; and she handily provides the movie’s moral center and the best entry point to the film for the audience, her dismissal of Mark in that second scene giving the audience permission to think he’s kind of a dick.

A lot of reviews have boiled down the character of Erica to ‘Zuckerberg’s Rosebud‘, and while that may be putting a bit too fine a point on the Citizen Kane/The Social Network comparisons that have been floating around, Mara never reduces her character to something so simple as ‘the one that got away’.  She never defines her character in terms of the impact she has on Mark, but instead shows why Erica would make the choices she does for her own sake. She presents Erica as the kind of whip-smart, likable woman that would be interested in someone like Mark in the first place, but would have enough self-respect and intelligence to abandon him when he becomes condescending and even insulting. It’s sharp, clear, film-defining work, doing so much with a very small amount of screen time.

This is part of Stinkylulu’s Supporting Actress 2010 Blogathon, a Tribute to Actressing at the Edges.

Now we turn to what is likely the funniest performance on television: Sofia Vergara on Modern Family.  Vergara glides through the comedy, the secret weapon of a show that has been a bit over-praised. (Yes, I said it. It’s funny, but not the only good comedy on television. It’s 20 minutes of cruelty and mockery towards its characters, followed by 30 seconds of sappy voiceover about how they love each other.) Vergara’s character, Gloria, is possibly the least developed. What do we know about Gloria? Not much that isn’t given to us as wacky backstory or comedic support for another character’s plotline. The show is slowly giving her a bit more of a story, but they seem not to have noticed for quite sometime the goldmine of comedy they have in Vergara. Her inner life is explored the least, and usually she is a comic foil, rather than a subject of the plot. But she consistently makes the most out of the moments given to her, and does the funniest line-readings of anyone on the show while fleshing out an underwritten character.

Here are three clips from the Halloween episode of Modern Family, showing how funny Vergara is. She goes from being understandably wounded at her husband’s criticism of her mistakes in American idiomatic speech and accented pronunciation; to putting on an affected version of flat, Midwestern American English; to trying to take the family’s mocking of her style of speech. (Note that I think these clips show both Vergara’s comedic talent and the unnecessary cruelty of the show towards her character.)

Luca Guadagnino’s story about a rich Italian family centered around Tilda Swinton’s Emma Recchi, a Russian trophy wife. Swinton, as always, brought complexity and soul to her lead role; the photography was beautiful; the music - re-purposed John Adams - added to the arty vibe; yet I found myself removed from the movie. The cool composure of the characters kept me at arm’s length, even as I admired the individual elements that came together in this well-made package.

The ending changed that. After an entire movie of characters acting as they are supposed to, giving only small hints of their inner longings - or, in Emma’s case, acting on them impulsively - it overflowed with emotion, showing longing, regret, hope, and grief in a wordless coda, with Adams’ lovely music swirling around the characters. Suddenly it was clear: that reserve, that slow build, was setting up this break, and made the show of emotion in small gestures that much more powerful. I Am Love earned its tears; it does not throw emotional content at you to get you to cry, it crafts an ending that grows perfectly, almost inevitably, out of the characters it has so painstakingly portrayed.

So, on to a category that you won’t find at SAG or the Oscars: best lines of the year. There is one line from a movie and one line from a tv show that stand out in my mind.

First, the movie: in Inception, the most memorable scene is the hallway fight scene with Joseph Gordon-Levitt, where he fights the baddies in a tilting universe, and then has to tie the dreamers together and move them around in zero gravity.  In a self-serious movie, the touches of humor were the best, bringing a much needed sense of levity to the proceedings. While Tom Hardy flirting with JGL is certainly amusing, I laughed out loud when JGL is sprinting around the staircases and suddenly stops, pointing out the gap between floors by saying “paradox” and then flinging the bad guy over the edge. It’s a silly line, but it stands out to me as it is so purely entertaining.

Now, the tv show: Edie Falco is wonderful in Nurse Jackie, and her reaction to her husband and her best friend confronting her and her addiction is to hide.  She tries out being in recovery. “Hi, my name is Jackie, and I’m an addict,” she says to the mirror. Then she laughs. “Blow me!” she finishes off.  It’s absolute perfect in writing and delivery, a great moment on a strong show. (Seriously, watch Nurse Jackie, it’s so good).

Let’s talk about “True Blood” for a moment. It seems that the current cultural conception of the show is that it’s fun trash. It is, but it is also much, much more. There are deep, complex themes embedded in the pulpy narrative - themes of repression and abandon, grief and loss, prejudice, innocence, and the simultaneous desire to change as a person, and the impossibility of actually doing so. The recaps at TWoP pull out some of these themes, as well as the intricate way “True Blood” draws parallels and shows subtle distinctions.

Because of this complexity - under that flashy fun surface - the acting on this show is a harder task than it looks like. It’s different than a traditional drama; it requires a deep grounding in the character, but a simultaneous ability to pull off soapy melodrama. That’s why the actors who have been consistently great (Ryan Kwanten as Jason Stackhouse, Deborah Ann Woll as Jessica) are doing a harder task than it seems.

Into this odd mix comes Denis O’Hare - a consummate Hey! It’s That Guy - as Russell Edgington, the King of Mississippi, and not only is he trying to stay afloat in a series that even fans criticize for bad acting due to the difficulty of the tone and subject matter, but he’s a new character, and people are NOT kind to new characters on their beloved shows.

So what does he do? He nails it. O’Hare nails the part to the wall, and is the most fascinating, watchable, insane part of an over-the-top series that is stuffed to the brim with intrigue and suspense. He is more watchable than Alexander Sarsgaard, who looks like this.

O’Hare gleefully chewed his way through the scenery of this show, cackling wildly when he discovered Sookie’s strange gifts, and still kept the part grounded. He kept the part so grounded that he made Talbot - Talbot, for the love - seem interesting after his death. As Russell rolled around in that pile of goo that used to be Talbot, then lovingly cradled the jar of goo in his arms, he made it seem like there was a reason he would be missed, rather than that he was the most one-note, queeny, bitchy stereotype of a gay man ever put onto film. I would love to know whether the little gesture of turning the jar of goo around so ‘Talbot’ can see what Russell is describing was O’Hare’s idea, the writer’s, or the director’s, but it’s brilliant no matter what. When O’Hare’s face was covered in an inch of black ash, leaving him to act with his voice and his body only, he was still fascinating and perfect. He’s so good, that his spine-ripping, child-eating climax of the season, while wholly gripping and awesome, is just the tip of the iceberg.

Hat tip to James Frain, so wonderful as Franklin; Ryan Kwanten as Jason and Deborah Ann Woll as Jessica, still consistently showing the depths of their characters; and Alexander Sarsgaard, growing into his role as Eric more each season.

The end of the year is my favorite time of year, not because of Christmas, but because of all the top 10 lists, loving examinations of favorites, and beautifully written homages to the works that moved us. Starting tomorrow, I’ll be rolling out my personal ‘best of the year’ list, one at a time. The list will look at elements of TV and movies, and each ‘best’ will get it’s own entry. It will include performances, lines, episodes, scenes, as well as music, costumes, and cinematography.Stay tuned - tomorrow you’ll hear about the television performance that was, hands down, my favorite of the year.Edited 12/20 - clearly this post has not happened yet, but stay tuned, it’s coming.

It’s been over a month since Cannonball Read 2 wrapped, a comprehensive list of all 52 books and links to review can be found here. Rather than do a list of all the books from best to worst, here are the highlights - the 10 favorites from all year, starting with the most recently read:

Digging to America by Anne Tyler - Tyler writes memorable characters and uses literary devices in ways that add to the story rather than draw attention to their use. A compassionate look at different cultures. (read more)

The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler - Chandler’s sparse writing hides the skill that goes into writing a mystery this effective. (read more)

Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro - a sad dystopian tale, this book’s strength is the narration provided by the main character. (read more)

Wise Children by Angela Carter - bizarre, witty, fantastical story, a slow read but ultimately engrossing. (read more)

Postcards from the Edge by Carrie Fisher - Fisher should get some sort of prize for writing this book, adapting it into a totally different (wonderful) movie that radically changes the plot and jettisons major characters, but retains the same charm and wry tone. (read more)

The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down by Anne Fadiman - one of my favorite non-fiction books ever.  (read more)

Nobody Passes ed. Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore - a must-read for those with an interest in gender & intersectionality. (read more)

The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold - sad and hopeful all at once, this book suffers a bit in comparison to The Book Thief (the two share similar themes and narrators), but is still one of the best I read this year. (read more)

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak - probably the favorite of all of these. Don’t be put off by the ‘young adult’ label, this book deals with themes of grief, loss, and love in a way few ‘adult’ books do. (read more)

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov - transcendent. The writing in this book is superb, and Humbert Humbert is absolutely fascinating & horrifying. If you haven’t read this book and think it advocates pedophilia, give it a read - it condemns the main character by giving him voice.  (read more)

Book 52 in Cannonball Read 2

I finished this book over a month ago, but I have been unable to sit down and write about it. It’s much harder to write about a good book than a bad one, and Tyler’s novel Digging to America approaches greatness, in subtle and small ways. It doesn’t have a jolting premise or a hook to lure the reader in - just solid writing, interesting well-drawn characters, and a damn near perfect ending.

Digging to America is the story of two American families who meet while adopting Korean girls. The Dickinson-Donaldsons are a family of WASP’s, the Yazdans are second generation Iranian-Americans. The book is the story of the two families getting to know each other, as well as of the different ways they approach raising children from different backgrounds as themselves. For example, the Dickinson-Donaldson’s keep their daughter’s Korean name - Jin-ho - but the Yazdans change their daughter’s name to Susan.

The main character is Maryam, the mother of the Iranian adoptive couple. She stands somewhat outside of the two families, watching as the couples grow closer together.  Her reactions to the enthusiasm and almost smothering friendship of the Dickinson-Donaldsons fuel the novel, providing friction for the loving but overwhelming family to bump up against.

Tyler subtly shifts the point of view of between sections of the novel. The book is written in third person, and the subjective information provided only comes from one source in each section - most amusingly from the five-year-old Jin-Ho near the end. Tyler weaves this into the fabric of the book, using it to create a complex portrait of the two families and all the relationships they share.

I mentioned the ending of the book. It is not anything earth-shattering, just a well-written ending in which a character makes a small, but defining choice. It doesn’t reach for a grandness or profundity that breaks with the tone of the book, it just wraps up the intimate and detailed story with grace.

Digging to America is a small treasure, a web of stories told with skill and compassion. You can’t ask for much more in a novel than Tyler gives her readers here.

Book 51 in Cannonball Read 2

First things first: yes, I read the whole thing through from cover to cover, and yes I’m counting it. This fucker is over 600 pages long.

Julia Child’s behemoth of a cookbook is much more than just a collection of recipes. It is a reflection of Child’s ebullient personality, and a stubborn and staunch declaration of refusing to do things the easy way if the hard way produces something better.

Mastering the Art of French Cooking is also infinitely more entertaining than Julie Powell’s insufferable Julie and Julia despite having no story and no characters.

The recipes, even when complicated, are not difficult per se. Rather, they just require a lot of steps, but Julia tells you exactly what to do and how to do it. Of course, anything with as much butter, cream, and wine in it as these recipes is bound to taste good.