To all for whom it might be of interest, please check out this incisive review of a film I've been meaning to write something up on since something like two Saturdays ago. Alas, the mysterious Arbogast on Film got there first:
http://arbogastonfilm.blogspot.com/2008/02...till-alive.htmlMy wife, who had to visit her mother to take care of some business, nevertheless found herself unable to pull away from the drama unfolding on the screen. Indeed, we began to discuss the wisdom of immediately stocking as many items as possible, canned goods, batteries, matches, bottled water, candles, etc., in the event that the ficition we were watching someday became fact.
Next came the potential minefield of conversation about whether we would let one another in the house under similar circumstances. My take was that we could die together or die alone. If I'm in the house, of course I'd let my wife or mother or son in and hope for the best. Were an infant present, that might lead me to keep my distance. Pretty heady stuff for a pretty peaceful Saturday afternoon.
One intriguing aspect of the film dealt with the profoundly flawed information being conveyed over the only source of consistent communication: the radio. Should one trust the media, or civil authorities to accurately convey the facts as they exist, or should we do what so many in the World Trade Centers, in hindsight, should have done: ignore the official line and try to evacuate posthaste.
Putting aside the unforeseen reactions to the film and looking at the drama itself, the relationship between the husband and wife was slightly off from the start. It was clear that he was an out-of-work musician and she was rather uneasily carrying the financial burdens. A morning moment lounging in bed suggested by way of the wife shrugging him off that potential lovemaking would not be appreciated. To compensate, apparently, for his lack of contributing, he offered to get her coffee, cook, etc. Something certainly seemed amiss, however subtly, in their interactions with each other.
By the time the wife has returned home in the aftermath of the terrorist attack, she's incredulous that he wouldn't let her in. As Arbogast pointed out, and my wife and I hadn't considered, it's ironic that he's holed up "safe" inside with a stranger, the local handyman, and she, the home's owner, can't get the love of an opened door. At this point, the emotions, which I can understand would be getting hot and raw, remain somewhat stilted and lukewarm, as if the actors were either unwilling or unable to quite take things where they needed to go in their portrayals; kind of like Brad Pitt during his penultimate scene in SEVEN, only elongated.
I remember a few years back when we had a blackout here in the city. People were driving like mad down places like Sunrise highway in the vicinity of the Green Acres shopping mall to get home. There's no doubt that in times of crisis, the hat of reason gets tossed into the ring of "everyone for themselves" for a good number of people. Keeping a cool head allowed me to guide my vehicle home without too much drama, but the stitches in the side of civilization got streched that day.
So, accuracy of emotions aside, the film does settle into a mode where the psychological creep factor inexorably pushes the narrative forward. Every shadowy figure, every foray around the grounds of the house seems pregnant with the possibility of sudden tragedy. To the films credit, we mostly get scenes like the one in which the wife, sitting outside because it's cooler, talks to her husband about how she had doubts about marrying him. He responds that he never had any doubts. This is a fascinating exchange because at the point where Lexi, the wife, arrived home, became frustrated about not being let in and throws a cell phone through a window, clearly, in my view, was drawing on the hidden well of those doubts in that moment, making her actions even more understandable, in a way.
There's also a scene later on when a co-worker of Lexi comes by the house and offers to take her and the little boy somewhere to receive medical attention. The husband is clearly threatened by him, even trying to remind her that she said she couldn't stand him. Whether true or not, there's the implication that the husband believes his wife may have had an affair at some point. It could be this guy, or maybe someone else, but more than plastic and duct tape separates these two, even if on an unconscious level. In a sense, the crisis these two face together unearths a great many things unsaid and could lead to some reconciliation and deeper understanding, if they can survive it. And accordingto the radio transmissions, that's a really big if for Lexi.
As with Arbogast on Film, I was quite suprised to read various reviews of the film that did not seem to appreciate what the film tried to accomplish. Personally, I think films of this sort sometimes hit too close to home emtionally (my wife, for example, a social worker, is none too eager to see GONE BABY GONE). Asking the question of what one might do opens a Pandora's Box that, as Argogast says, may reveal the fault lines inherent in many contemporary relationships; relationships that are frequently as deep as a puddle of fly piss and about as refreshing.
For everyone else, this is a low-budget, little-film-that-could which will inspire healthy conversation and, yes, even thought in one's quiet moments.