The death of Philip Seymour Hoffman hit me in a
weird way. I can’t say I was devastated
or sad, but I was stunned. Most of all, I
felt a sense of loss. I did have one
very clear thought: I’m not going to get
any more of his work. It’s a selfish
thought, but as a movie lover Hoffman was inevitably on my radar. You could always rely on him to be
interesting, to bring something extra to every one of his roles. The fact that he also chose to be a variety
of movies, from blockbusters to indies, was an added bonus. At any given time, there’s only a handful of
actors/actresses who work at the level that Philip Seymour Hoffman did, and
we’re lucky to have all of them. Many
people have said this since his death, most much more articulately than I
can. As my own little tribute, here is a
review of one my favorite movies that he stared in.
The
Savages
9
of 10
Personal
Bias Alert: dramedies are my favorite
genre, I saw this one year after my grandfather passed away from Alzheimer’s
The
best films reach inside us, identify some part of ourselves that’s rarely seen,
and assures us that other people have it too.
It evokes solidarity, which can heal us more than we realize. Roger Ebert once said “The purpose of
civilization and growth is to be able to reach out and empathize a little bit
with other people. And for me, the
movies are like a machine that generates empathy.” I don’t think all films do that, but the
best, the most lasting, certainly do.
“The Savages” evokes solidarity and empathy with the best of them.
Siblings
Wendy (Laura Linney) and Jon (Philip Seymour Hoffman) are forced to work
together to care for their father, whose mental health is deteriorating due to
dementia. The family was never close; their
mom wasn’t around, and it’s implied that their father mistreated them as
kids. As adults, neither child speaks to
him. Wendy and Jon don’t have much to do
with each other either. They live in
different cities and generally seem to leave each other alone. These family dynamic have deeply affected
both siblings, but they still try to do the decent thing by taking care of
their ailing father.
The relationship
dynamics and the situations that are explored in this film are difficult, but
writer/director Tamara Jenkins doesn’t shy away from the humor either. The film is intensely interested in the small
oddities of life. Everyday things we
often overlook become humorous when seen from the outside, like a character
using a grabber to reach a box of cereal, which is impossible to do gracefully. The music emphasizes the humor from the
beginning. It bounces along, prepping us
for these small moments and cutting into scenes that threaten to drag the story
into melodrama. Even when the middle
section starts to drag on a bit too long, it still generates some big laughs.
The
movie centers around Wendy and Jon’s relationship, and Linney and Hoffman are
excellent at showing both the closeness and distance that can exists between
siblings. These can be tenuous bonds,
especially for people who aren’t good at forming intimate relationships. There’s a lot of discomfort between them, but
it’s also clear that they have been the most consistent presence in each
other’s lives. Pay attention to how
closely Linney and Hoffman walk next to each other down hallways. You don’t do that with just anyone. The only other character with significant
screen time is their father, played unsentimentally by Philip Bosco. He may be a shell of his former self, but
that shell is still a jerk.
The
title of the film is presented over a montage of picturesque scenes of a
retirement community. This contrasts the
first scene, which shows the deterioration of the elderly couple inside one of
the homes. The film revolves around the
way we hide the problems in our lives, being the deterioration of the elderly,
relationship problems, or simply the struggle to achieve our dreams. We hide them away, sweep them under a fancy
rug so that the only thing people can see is a beautiful cover. It’s a necessary thing to do so we can get on
with our lives, but when the rug gets kicked away, it’s nice to know that other
people feel as awkward and unsure about it as we do.
Other
Notes:
Ø There’s
a scene where Hoffman’s character yells about the theme of hiding away our
problems. I often find myself wanting to
yell lines from that speech.
Ø As
someone who has watched a family member slip away into Alzheimer’s/dementia,
this film has many well-observed moments.
There’s a catharsis in knowing that other people noticed them too.
Ø “You
stole painkillers from a dead woman?”
No comments:
Post a Comment