IN THE FAMILY A-
USA (169 mi) 2011
d: Patrick Wang Official site
Just because laws have
limits doesn’t mean our lives do. —Paul
Hawks (Brian Murray)
This is ultimately one of the most emotionally devastating
films of the year, yet also one of the most understated, where so much of the
dramatic impact is built on the accumulation of small details that bear an
autobiographical stamp of authenticity.
While set in Tennessee, it explores the closeness of a small town
Southern community without playing on any of the usual stereotypes or
prejudices, showing a more generous side of the South that feels more
close-knit. Written, directed, acted and
produced by newcomer Patrick Wang, a gay Asian-American who grew up in Texas, the
film was initially rejected by as many as 30 major film festivals and
distributors, perhaps due to the length, until he was obliged to distribute the
film himself in true indie fashion, initially starting in just one theater in
Manhattan where it generated excellent reviews before slowly building a wider
audience. Still, this is the kind of film
likely seen by only twenty or so people in the audience, where the experience
is dramatically moving, presenting the material in a more respectful manner
than what we have become accustomed to seeing on television or in movie
representations, where there are push button issues that often lead to explosive
fireworks in the manner of KRAMER VS. KRAMER (1979), a film that doesn’t really
hold up over time, but here it’s more intimate, where much of the carefully
observed narrative is quietly ushered in with artfully designed silences that
carry the full weight of the material, feeling more like a theatrical experience. This shrewdly written film has a
well-designed structure that slowly unleashes its power, much of it told in
flashback, where its greatest strength comes from its characters, adding layer
upon layer throughout until by the end the audience is fully engaged with
everything that’s happening onscreen. Wang’s
acting is key, as he’s such a good-natured and level-headed guy, nothing
flashy, not without his own faults, but basically the kind of person who
defines the word friend, as he’ll be there unhesitatingly and instinctually, providing
the calm during the storm, having the good sense not to overreact or take
things out of proportion, which is how this subject matter is usually presented.
What starts out as a fairly uneventful and low-key family
drama eventually becomes a starkly intense testimonial on the meaning of life
itself, not in any grand philosophical terms, but in everyday language that’s impossible
to misunderstand, a riveting confessional with profound impact in all of our
lives. Using a spare and unpretentious film
technique, a no nonsense style where no particular thing stands out, initially
the focus is on a wired, energetic 6-year old named Chip (Sebastian Banes), a
captivating and endlessly curious kid with two Dads (Cody, Trevor St. John, his
biological father and his partner Joey, Patrick Wang), who seems perfectly
content with this living arrangement, where he’s smart and obviously thriving
in his home life. The routine of their
lives is captured in all its simplicity, where the morning cereal ritual
becomes so familiar to the audience that we feel like uninvited guests in their
kitchen after awhile, where this setting could be just about anywhere, but it
just happens to be Martin, Tennessee, where a slight drawl can be detected in
the voice inflections. Only after the
audience gets comfortable with the “lack” of drama in their lives does the
initial drama begin, where out of nowhere, like a clap of thunder on an
otherwise perfectly clear day, a life-changing event occurs offscreen where
Cody gets in a terrible auto accident, where in a flash we’re transported into Cristi
Puiu’s THE DEATH OF MR. LAZARESCU (2005), a bare-bones, near documentary
Romanian exposé on the atrocious hospital standards provided to severely ill
patients and their families, where Joey is rather unceremoniously left out of
the picture as he is not considered immediate family. While the word gay is never heard, the
unforgivable actions speak for themselves and are immediately offset by Joey’s
own exemplary behavior, as he does a heartfelt job preparing Chip for what to
expect seeing his Dad in intensive care.
Like Joey, we are denied admittance to Cody’s final hours, as he dies
shortly afterwards. With difficulty,
Chip and Joey attempt to regain a balance in their lives, both reluctantly and
unknowingly becoming the centerpieces of the film.
As Joey is digging through all the paperwork of Cody’s bank
accounts and personal statements, he shares what he finds with Cody’s sister
Eileen (Kelly McAndrew), who shockingly reports that Cody left everything to his
sister in a will written years before he met Joey. When Eileen reports her intentions of raising
Chip, using the will as her legal grounds, declaring her beliefs that these
were Cody’s written intentions, Joey’s world literally changes, as everything
he has come to know and rely upon are suddenly in jeopardy. As the emotional bond between Joey and Chip has
already been well established, Joey’s fierce insistence not to part with him
does not seem unreasonable, so when Eileen literally kidnaps Chip, refusing to
return him after a family overnight visit while serving an order of protection
to keep Joey away from him, a multitude of harsh thoughts of retribution spring
to mind as the audience is challenged to consider what they would do in similar
circumstances. Once more, Joey is locked
out of the room, reinforced by his discovery that gay partners have no legal
grounds, sending him into an emotional tailspin of despair, seen sitting alone
in an empty kitchen. While he is visited
by various friends showing neighborly concern, some of whom bring food or drink
or just sit around and commiserate with him, often shown in long takes, his
solitary life is joyless and empty. This
void is interrupted by flashbacks of Joey and Cody together, like scenes of
when they first met or shared family holidays, including one unforgettable
sequence when they first kiss, a near 9-minute uninterrupted shot leading to
the moment when Cody impulsively plays Chip Taylor’s song “Little Darts.” Chip Taylor (Jon Voight’s brother, by the
way) plays Cody’s father in the film.
But nothing is quite as haunting as having a friend secretly call him on
a speaker phone so he can hear the sounds of Chip playing, where he sits
transfixed, unable to utter a word, paralyzed in thought.
Overheard by an elderly client whose old books he is
rebinding, Joey is again speechless to discover this retired elderly lawyer
(Brian Murray) will take his case, urging him to forget about the restrictions
of the law, which can be so divisive, but consider how to reframe the issue in
more humane terms, where he may not obtain a legal victory, but he might negotiate
a better arrangement with Cody’s sister.
What follows is perhaps the most devastating and beautifully written sequence
of the year, a thirty minute deposition scene taking place in real time, a
soliloquy of emotional candor, using a generic setting like Conference Room B
for such a confessional outpouring, a scene unlike anything else in recent
recollection, easily the high point
of the film. Earlier in the film we
continually see the back of Joey’s head during key dramatic moments,
where it's only during the deposition that he actually faces the camera for the
first time, literally exposing himself emotionally, removing the politics and
the rancor, but explaining in real and heartfelt terms just what Chip and Cody
mean to him, often sounding like what we might hear at a eulogy. This might seem oddly unnecessary, having to humbly
explain our feelings to precisely those people we supposedly love, but humans
are fallible and often forget the deeper underlying meaning, where it helps to
be reminded from time to time, much like the original practice of going to
church, only removing the religious implications while retaining the moral lessons.
While all drama needs conflict, this film removes much of the vitriol associated
with gay political issues and instead integrates Joey into our collective understanding
of what’s essential about any marriage
and family.
