Reviews

So what this film is basically saying is that the Salem witch trials were in fact legitimate.

The women accused actually did perform supernatural acts that were, if not evil, then at least hateful.

I see the popularity of this film as a case of atheists/pagans/wiccans reveling in their assumed power and "demonizing" the sanctimony of the Christian establishment.

The witches' power when it is finally revealed is awful and in fact seems to justify the longstanding superstitions about witches and satanic practices. I know there are "good witches" and "bad witches" (I saw "Wizard of Oz") but there is only evil in this film. If it has a meaning or a message, it is that the old superstitions are true.

This is like those old slasher movies, where teenagers who engage in lustful sin are going to pay big-time before the end. Except that the transgressor in this case is a rich matron who falls in love with her sensitive son's best friend who sort of I guess falls in love with her too. At least they get it on in all sorts of places, including al fresco amongst a lot of bugs that rate many close-ups. Why Tilda Swinton's "Emma" would appeal to a young handsome Italian boy I couldn't grasp, but I am supportive of cougar fantasies so we'll let that quibble slide. There is a large subplot involving food, both the lovers love to cook you see, and some of it looks good enough to eat. They unfortunately make a huge stupid mistake involving the soup course that sets off a ridiculous tragic turn of events, leading to "Emma" getting "slashed" by being shown the door, expelled from all that wealth and luxury as it were, and where she goes, one may only guess. But it is hinted that not only has she gotten in touch with her inner cougar, but also her inner lesbian, and considering that she is, after all, Love, we all hope she lands on her feet somewhere less opulent but just as sexy.

Perhaps some of the subtleties of this film escaped me, buried under the overly lush swelling score that tried so hard to make dramatic points. There is one point that I took to heart, involving a smarmy cultured Indian-American power broker helping the rich industrialist family move into the 21st century with their textile mill. He hints that even though they sell out to the multi-nationalists, they can still be part of and profit from the global war machine, becoming even richer. This seems to emphasize that "Emma" is much better off making love on the hillside than further luxuriating in such capitalistic decadence.

So whether she ran off and was received rapturously by Antonio was not really an issue for me. The one big question I did come away with, which I would ask some Italian viewer if I cared enough to post a message, is: Did Tilda Swinton speak Italian with a Russian accent? If so, man, what a performance.

Do not see this film because you've heard it's trippy or visually stunning, unless you have some interest in the afterlife as envisioned in the Tibetan Book of the Dead as filtered through the creative mind of Gaspar Noe. In fact, the opening credits are probably the trippiest thing about the whole film and they're over in an amazingly fast two minutes. Again, I don't think even the opening credits were intended to blow the viewer's mind as much as just wake him up for what follows.

And what follows is basically 2.5 hours from the afterlife of Oscar, from his sudden violent death at a young age, through his chances at liberation into the light which he rejects, because of his karma and guilt over how he has f'ed up the lives of all those he supposedly loves or calls friend, and ending in his inevitable rebirth.

The film is an ordeal and many, even those who are interested in the afterlife and "bardo films", may find it hard going. As Oscar's spirit floats overhead into scenes where he sees the past and present of his beloved sister, his friend Alex, his friend Victor whom he has particularly harmed, and others, including what happens to his corpse, the movement is slow and mostly silent, as befits a disembodied, earthbound spirit. These slow overhead shots are punctuated at intervals by several extremely loud, sudden shocks. This might seem gratuitous, but nothing in this film is gratuitous, even the ending, which many would deem pornographic but is entirely consistent with the Tibetan belief in the soul seeking a womb in which to be reborn. The karmic elements of the film are well thought-out, and the film's overall effect and message are profound to the viewer ready to consider them.

As far as Charlie Kaufman scripts go, this one has the distinction of being both the most ambitious and, paradoxically, the slightest in terms of what he really has to say. All of his films (and he is one whose name on the screenplay makes the film as much his as the director's) ask big questions about life: the meaning of evolution (Human Nature), the essence and power of creativity (Adaptation), memory and romance (Eternal Sunshine), fame and identity (John Malkovich, Confessions of a Dangerous Mind.) With Synecdoche, he grapples with all of these themes and, unlike these other great films, comes up short in both entertainment and edification.

It's not so much nihilism or existentialism that drives Kaufman's narrative here, as much as incomprehension of what the world really means. In the face of attachment and loss, egomania, sexuality, aging, sickness, and death, the character of Caden is as helpless to believe in an afterlife as he is to form a coherent narrative for his own life. That is why the ending is so extremely unsatisfying. This film has been compared to some of Lynch's later works; nothing could be farther from the truth. David Lynch has a clear vision of the meaning and reality of the "afterlife" and has the courage to show that it is both terrifying and supremely important. Kaufman simply shows us that after all that confusion, self-pity, and fear that was Caden's life, death is a FADE TO WHITE. While that may make small-minded people comfortable, and that he died in the arms of a compassionate woman, it is a lie and a cop-out. The soul formerly known as Caden Cotard didn't appear to work a lot of karma out in that particular lifetime. And still has demons of his own creation to face in the bardos.

The central character of Caden Cotard lives 90% above the neck, intellectualizing everything, communicating information and his own feelings poorly, to the point of scaring his daughter when he's trying to comfort her. And yet he is looked upon as a creative genius, for his "bold" twist on "Death of a Salesman," and pursued by attractive young women for some strange reason. Because he is married he seems to have a moral code but it is weak and relative to the situation. When he begins his magnum opus, the parallel to Fellini's "8 1/2" becomes obvious, except that where Mastroianni's sex appeal is potent and his creative crisis sympathetic, Hoffman's is pathetic and would be laughable if Kaufman hadn't lost his sense of humor somewhere in the conception and realization of this film.

Kaufman surrounds his alter ego with several of the most talented actresses working today and yet because their characters are living in some desperate reality pursuing their own dimly recognized needs, or in the even more desperate fantasy world generated by Kaufman/Cotard, they do not connect with any truth. Even so, Samantha Morton must be singled out for another brilliant performance, particularly for the way she conveys both youth and old age.

The print ads and many reviews proclaim "Happy-Go-Lucky" as cheerful, uplifting, light-hearted, hilarious, etc. I was almost expecting a movie like "Smiley Face" without the drugs, or a modern day Hayley Mills in "Pollyanna." But Mike Leigh is a serious filmmaker with a clear eye toward the human condition, and has created a marvelously rich film that is more than meets the eye.

Poppy, as portrayed by Sally Hawkins, is no Pollyanna despite her upbeat demeanor. She, like her creator Leigh, has no illusions about human nature and its dark side, but has consciously chosen to face it not just with optimism and cheer, but with a deep compassion for the suffering and delusions of others. In this she is more bodhisattva than cockeyed optimist, able to help some but not others.

And what a fascinating lot of others she encounters-- family, friends, strangers, students, and ultimately a lover, all of whom are so real they are not movie characters in a conventional sense but simply the passing parade of souls that we all have in our lives. And by the same token, "Happy-Go-Lucky" is not a typical narrative story, but an oh-so-real slice of Poppy's, and our, life.

As a very real 30-year-old complete with age-specific foolishness, Poppy also challenges the audience's compassion for HER as she lapses into silliness and makes you wonder, like perhaps some of your own friends, why you're hanging with this twit. Then just as quickly we see her real depth, her courage and compassion in the face of the kind of rage and fear that Blake described in his poem "London":

"I wander through each chartered street, Near where the chartered Thames does flow, And mark in every face I meet, Marks of weakness, marks of woe..."

It is to Poppy's credit that she helps when she can, shrugs when she has to, and walks away when faced with a soul so lost that it threatens her own spirit.