Private Life (2018)

20 Saturday Oct 2018

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Drama, Egg donor, Infertility, IVF treatment, Kathryn Hahn, Kayli Carter, Molly Shannon, Paul Giamatti, Review, Step-niece, Tamara Jenkins

D: Tamara Jenkins / 124m

Cast: Paul Giamatti, Kathryn Hahn, Kayli Carter, Molly Shannon, John Carroll Lynch, Emily Robinson, Desmin Borges, Denis O’Hare

Now in their forties, Richard (Giamatti) and Rachel (Hahn) are trying desperately to have a child before it’s too late. They’ve tried several attempts at artificial insemination but none have paid off. It’s only when they try for the first time with IVF treatment that they discover that their previous failures have been due to Richard having a blockage that stops him from providing sperm. He undergoes surgery to correct this, but still the IVF treatment isn’t successful. Their consultant, Dr Dordick (O’Hare), suggests they look into the possibility of finding an egg donor, but at first, Rachel is against the idea as she will have no biological input into any child that’s born. It’s only when their step-niece, Sadie (Carter), comes to stay with them after cutting short her college writing programme, that the couple begin to see a solution to their problems. It’s not an ideal solution – will Sadie want to give up some of her eggs, will it go down well with her parents, Cynthia (Shannon) and Charlie (Lynch), will it even be successful – but having warmed to the idea, Rachel and Richard decide to ask Sadie if she’ll be their egg donor…

Although it’s an often touching, and moving exploration of the trials and tribulations of trying to have a baby (but not in the old-fashioned way), Tamara Jenkins’ latest, only her third feature in twenty years, is refreshingly non-judgmental about its lead characters and their determination to have a child. But Private Life leaves the viewer knowing almost nothing at all about why the couple want a child, and in terms of their back story, we learn that Rachel is a well regarded writer, while Richard was a well regarded theatre director who now owns and runs an artisan pickle company. With the how and the why of where they are now left unexamined, their plight – though well developed and scripted by Jenkins – means their struggle to conceive (or adopt if absolutely necessary) doesn’t have the impact needed to make viewers empathise with them as much as might be expected. The impetus seems to be with Rachel, while Richard seems to be going along with it all to please her or, worse still, keep her happy. It’s this aspect of their relationship that’s more intriguing, but unfortunately, Jenkins doesn’t go that deeply into things, preferring instead to focus on how they’re feeling right now.

Inevitably, things don’t always go to plan for them, and the setbacks and attendant emotional pain and suffering that they endure is tellingly handled by Jenkins and her very talented cast. Hahn is perhaps a surprising choice for Rachel, but it’s possibly her best performance yet, with shading to the character that doesn’t appear to have been in the script. Whether angry or sad, or miserable or elated, or just plain confused by how difficult it all is, Hahn’s portrayal is authentic at every turn. As Richard, Giamatti suffers a little bit through his character’s continual ability to say the wrong thing at the wrong time and seem entirely shallow in comparison to Rachel. It’s still a good performance – Giamatti is one of the few actors working today who seems unable to give a bad performance in anything he does – but Richard isn’t as fully fleshed out as he could, or should, have been. The indignities of IVF and egg donor treatment are given due emphasis, and it all hinges on Sadie’s suitability as a donor, which is treated correctly as something beyond Richard and Rachel’s control. Overall, the movie is sympathetic to its desperate parents-to-be, though it does come close to being yet another teary-eyed tale of middle-class aspirations gone awry, something that would have derailed it from the start.

Rating: 7/10 – an observant and measured mix of emotional drama and physical comedy, Private Life still allows its characters hope in amongst all the setbacks they endure; thanks to Jenkins’ (mostly) incisive script, its cast being en point throughout, and a determination not to be melodramatic in any way, this is a compassionate and often witty study of infertility anxiety.

Other People (2016)

28 Friday Sep 2018

Posted by dullwood68 in Movies

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Tags

Black comedy, Bradley Whitford, Cancer, Chris Kelly, Drama, Family, Homosexuality, Jesse Plemons, Leiomyosarcoma, Molly Shannon, Review

D: Chris Kelly / 97m

Cast: Jesse Plemons, Molly Shannon, Bradley Whitford, Maude Apatow, Madisen Beaty, John Early, Zach Woods, Paul Dooley, June Squibb

Twenty-nine year old David Mulcahey (Plemons) is an aspiring comedy writer living in New York who decides to return home to Sacramento when his mother, Joanne (Shannon), is diagnosed with leiomyosarcoma, a form of cancer involving malignant tumours. Adopting the role of her primary carer at home, David tries to support his mother while dealing with a variety of issues in his own life, from the disappointment of a pilot TV show he’s written not being optioned, to the break up of his relationship of five years with Paul (Woods), to the continuing homophobia displayed by his otherwise loving father, Norman (Whitford), and his own doubts as to whether or not he’ll be able to cope “when the time comes”. Over the course of a year, David sees at first hand the struggle his mother has to maintain a semblance of normal life, and the efforts she makes to remain a caring mother to David and his two sisters, Alexandra (Apatow) and Rebeccah (Beaty), while negotiating the trials of funeral planning, quitting chemotherapy, and preparing for the inevitable…

Loosely based on writer/director Kelly’s own experiences with his mother’s death from cancer, Other People is a sobering yet darkly humorous movie that treats the subject of cancer with unflinching honesty while also showing that it doesn’t have to mean that life can’t continue, especially for those who are ill. It also avoids the clichés that come with this particular territory in movies, showing the various stages that Joanne experiences as she comes to terms with her cancer, but in a way that isn’t patronising or condescending. Several times we see David and Joanne taking a walk in their local park, and each occasion acts as a barometer for Joanne’s current state of health, Kelly using this cinematic shorthand to avoid big speeches or teary confessions. It’s one of many ways that the script makes subtle declarations about Joanne’s health, and about cancer in general. As a result, when it is referred to directly, it’s something of a surprise, though a welcome one at that; there shouldn’t be any avoidance of the topic at hand. And no one is shown to be particuarly brave. Instead, Kelly has everyone finding it difficult to adjust to the idea of a loved one dying, something that rings true throughout, as well as David’s reticence to talk about his own problems, and everyone else’s dismay and confusion.

In amongst the main narrative thread of Joanne’s illness, issues concerning the rest of her family crop up quite often, from David’s inability to recognise that his sisters need his support as well, to the sad acceptance of Joanne’s parents (Dooley, Squibb) that they’re going to lose their only child. Kelly sidesteps any potential melodrama by keeping things simple, and by ensuring that any histrionics are kept to a minimum, saving it all for a scene in a supermarket where David can’t find the laxatives that are on a shelf right in front of him. Plemons, who gives the kind of break out performance he’s always been capable of, perfectly captures the despair, anger and panic that being on the verge of losing his mother is causing him. Kelly is also on firm ground when dealing with David’s homosexuality, planting the seeds for Norman’s discomfort in the family’s conservative religious background, but without being explicit about it. Much is left unacknowledged – verbally at least – but the script makes it clear how each character is feeling, and the family dynamic is well thought out and developed. And to cap it all off, Shannon is simply tremendous as Joanne: funny, angry, sad, but interestingly, never hopeful for herself, another thing that Kelly gets absolutely, completely right.

Rating: 8/10 – the subject matter may sound off-putting, but even though Other People pulls no punches, there’s a streak of black comedy that runs throughout the movie and helps the leaven the drama; Plemons and Shannon give career best performances, and Kelly (making his feature debut) shows the kind of promise that means his next project should receive plenty of deserving attention.

Life After Beth (2014)

30 Thursday Oct 2014

Posted by dullwood68 in Movies

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Tags

Aubrey Plaza, Black comedy, Dane DeHaan, Jeff Baena, John C. Reilly, Molly Shannon, Review, Rom-zom-com, Romantic comedy, Undead, Zombie

D: Jeff Baena / 89m

Cast: Aubrey Plaza, Dane DeHaan, John C. Reilly, Molly Shannon, Cheryl Hines, Paul Reiser, Matthew Gray Gubler, Anna Kendrick

Zach Orfman (DeHaan) has been devastated by the unexpected death of his girlfriend, Beth Slocum (Plaza). Unable to fully come to terms with her passing, Zach spends time after the funeral with her parents, Maury (Reilly) and Geenie (Shannon). His behaviour concerns his own parents, Judy (Hines) and Noah (Reiser), as well as his brother Kyle (Gubler). When Zach goes to see the Slocums but they don’t answer the door, or return his phone calls he’s initially upset. He decides to try one last time to see them but when he does they still don’t answer the door. Knowing they’re inside, Zach looks in through one of the windows… and sees Beth.

Forcing his way in, Zach confronts the Slocums who tell him that Beth came home on the night of the wake and seems fine, but she has no memory of dying; as far as she’s concerned she has a test at school the next day even though it’s summer break. The Slocums allow Zach to visit Beth but insist he doesn’t tell her what’s happened to her. Zach reluctantly agrees and the two resume dating, but Beth’s behaviour is erratic and demanding. As time goes on it becomes more difficult to hide the fact that Beth has come back from the dead. She begins to deteriorate, but her parents continue to reject Zach’s pleas to tell her the truth.

Things come to a head when Zach bumps into an old schoolfriend, Erica (Kendrick) at a restaurant. He tells her about Beth’s death (but not her resurrection). When he leaves he (literally) runs over Beth who is unharmed. Erica appears and is surprised by Beth’s appearance. Beth realises Zach is keeping something from her, and forces him to tell her what it is. He shows Beth her grave and the hole in it where she got out. She runs off. Zach returns home to find his dead grandfather has returned as well; it becomes clear that the dead are returning in droves and the town becomes a disaster zone, with vigilante groups culling the undead. Still in love with Beth he races to the Slocums to rescue her, but now Beth is constantly in need of food, preferably human flesh. Zach is faced with a terrible choice: to travel far away with Beth and keep her safe, or send her back to the grave.

A rom-zom-com with plenty of heart (and other body parts), Life After Beth is a deftly funny diversion that treats its central character with dignity and affection, even when she is trying to devour someone or has degenerated into a snarling zombie. It walks a fine line between horror and comedy, and adds romance to the mix with surprising ease, making its absurd premise all the more believable. It’s all cleverly done, and though it would have been easy to do so, doesn’t rely on self-reflexive in-jokes or knowing nods to the camera. Life After Beth is played largely straight, incorporating humour with a relaxed confidence, and making the horror elements as gruesome as the material needs (which isn’t very gruesome).

The partly traditional romantic tale is well catered for – boy loses girl, boy gets girl back, girl turns into ravenous monster, boy still loves her – and is handled with assurance by Plaza and DeHaan. Plaza effects Beth’s transformation from slightly confused corpse to psychotic girlfriend to the aforementioned ravenous monster with a surprising amount of charm, investing Beth with an unexpected warmth that offsets the cruel trajectory her character takes as the movie progresses. With her pinched features and wide eyes, Plaza makes Beth both dangerous and (relatively) innocent at the same time. As the bewildered and conflicted Zach, DeHaan shows an aptitude for comedy that might not have been readily apparent from his previous movie roles, and is a delight to watch as he struggles with his feelings for Beth in the face of her rapidly deteriorating behaviour. Together, they’re a winning team, sparking off each other and making Zach and Beth’s relationship entirely credible – even if one of them is dead.

Writer/director Baena’s only previous credit is the script for David O. Russell’s I ♥ Huckabees (2004). With such an assured movie as this it’s a shame he hasn’t had any other projects produced since then. He gets the tone just right, even when he throws in some awkward necrophilia, and as mentioned already, obtains strong performances from his two leads while allowing his supporting cast to do what they do best: almost steal the movie. Reilly is on great form, turning self-denial into a personal mantra, and Shannon is terrific as well, her offbeat screen persona a perfect match for Geenie, a woman who responds to life just a second or two too late (watch out for how she feeds Beth at one point).

The movie extracts so much good will in its relatively short running time it’s almost embarrassing, but Life After Beth is that enjoyable; at times it’s a romp, at other times it’s a sly meditation on love’s permanence and the sacrifices we make to hold onto it. Baena even finds time to add one of the year’s funniest moments as Beth leaves home strapped to a cooker. It’s laugh out loud funny and worthy of an award all on its own.

Rating: 8/10 – everything a good rom-zom-com should be, Life After Beth is a small-scale delight; witty, with plenty of pathos and charm, it’s refreshingly mounted and seductively light-hearted – in short, an absolute joy.