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(Obligatory disclaimer)
There's some spoilers below for Love Liza and maybe a couple for Moonlight Mile. Since they don't involve aliens or anything, prolly no one will care.
(end obligatory disclaimer)
A while back I saw Love Liza, a film with Philip Seymour Hoffman as a guy whose wife has unexpectedly committed suicide. I suppose 'unexpectedly' is a poor word choice, as many people who kill themselves fail to warn those around them before doing so. Regardless. The film is two hours of Hoffman wandering about, perhaps trying to get his bearings or perhaps losing them altogether - it's difficult to tell. He starts huffing gas - I think because his wife did the ol' "run the car in the garage" trick and it's his way of getting close to that. Maybe.
I can't decide what I think of the film. On one hand, it thoroughly put me where it wanted me; while I didn't appreciate that going on without signing some disclaimer first, I've got to admire the film's single-mindedness. One the other, it's portrayal of grief is arguably narrow, as is the performance required of Hoffman. Additionally, the film indulges in a few sterotypical 'indie' tropes which make me want to like it less than I do, but then I have to admire the ending, which sits nicely next to that of Ghost World on the shelf of 'Endings That Piss Audiences Off'.
Meanwhile, I just saw Moonlight Mile, which is similar in some ways, as it deals with a family grieving over the loss of their daughter. It wrings a lot more laughter out of the situation and features a fucking bang-up performance by Susan Sarandon as the distressed mother holding it together as her husband (Dustin Hoffman) and ersatz son-in-law (Jake Gyllenhaal) try to figure out what it is they need to do.
Just as Liza dips into irritating indie tics, so Moonlight runs to the stock of Hollywood tricks now and again - but then it will treat a scene with such restraint and subtlety that I have to dig it. Incidentally, it was made by the guy who was dating Rebecca Schaeffer at the time of her murder, who also happens to have made the horrid City of Angels.
I don't really know what my point is, but I'm intrigued that I just saw two honest, worthwhile and completely different films about grief in the span of days. There are many implied questions and answers about the usefulness of approaches from 'indie' to 'Hollywood' and those in between, and how the indiosyncrasies of one can be just as off-putting as the other.
I expect I'll work through this on my own, but if anyone else has seen one or both, please jump in. I'll recommend both, but Moonlight perhaps more, as Sarandon is just great in it. (And there's a scene where she's asked what she thinks of the death penalty that had me laughing, all context considered.) |
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