2020 Top Ten List #3 The Death and Life of John F. Donovan

Director Xavier Dolan on the set

Dolan (left) on the set with actor Kit Harrington

THE DEATH AND LIFE OF JOHN F. DONOVAN          A-                   

Canada  Great Britain  (123 mi)  2018  ‘Scope  d:  Xavier Dolan

Remember Stanley (Jeremy Blackman), the lonely child prodigy and long-running contestant featured on his quiz show, exploited and browbeaten by his overbearing father in Paul Thomas Anderson’s Magnolia (1999), whose aching loneliness just grabbed us by the throat?  Dolan has constructed an entire film around that singular character, or a similar character, remaining shockingly unpretentious and honest, creating what is perhaps his most open film yet.  Loathed and repudiated by the critics, many describing this as his worst effort, it’s clear by now there is a line of demarcation with Dolan and many of his critics, who are making personal assaults on his character with this film, finding him overpraised and self-indulgent, like cinema’s golden boy, having worn out his welcome, as his career trajectory doesn’t meet the expectations of these critics, who believe he should be making different kinds of films by now.  But what Dolan has going for him is an intensely personal viewpoint, as no one speaks to the gay experience like Dolan, where each of his films approach the subject differently, all offering unique windows into the human soul.  Having said that, this film is different, feeling more like a Hollywood movie, working with a considerably larger budget at $35 million, shot on 35mm by longtime cinematographer André Turpin, capturing a look that is often exquisite, including recognizable movie stars who speak English for the first time, with an overbearing musical score by Gabriel Yared that is kind of wretched, but it doesn’t seem to matter, as it’s such a compelling film.  Part of what critics point to has to do with the backdrop of the film, as actress Jessica Chastain was cut out of the final edit, leading many to conclude the film was a troubled production and an editing mess, trimmed down from 4-hours, spending two years editing this film down to size when normally it only takes Dolan two months, doing his own editing since his second film, shared in this film with Mathieu Denis, so, of course, he was lambasted for the editing as well.  The real problem is that the scope of critical negativity has prevented this film’s release in the United States, screening nowhere, as you have to search for alternative streaming sites to find viewing possibilities.  One such site is The Roku Channel, offering a 7-day free subscription, The Death and Life of John F. Donovan - The Roku Channel, while it’s also available on Hulu, Watch The Death and Life of John F. Donovan ... - Hulu.  Granted, watching a Dolan film on television is hardly the same as experiencing the grandiosity of his filmmaking in a theater, but this film tones down the visual pyrotechnics, refraining from those exaggerated cinematic moments, creating a standard melodrama that continually shifts points of view, moving freely between the past and present in multiple flashbacks, becoming more of a character study.  Ostensibly a story about celebrity and fan worship, adding a gay subtext, this one contains an element of autobiographic truth about it, as Dolan wrote an 8-year old fan letter to Leonardo Di Caprio, having watched him in James Cameron’s TITANIC (1997) five times. “I am one of your fans,” he explained, “You are a great actor and I admire you,” hoping to meet him if he ever comes to Montreal.  Similarly, Jacob Tremblay, the child actor in Larry Abrahamson’s Room (2015), is Rupert Turner, an 11-year old schoolboy who develops a mad crush about a superhero movie character with magical powers in the teen drama TV series Hellsome High, starring Kit Harrington as John F. Donovan, living and breathing everything about this fictional character, becoming the most vital aspect of his own young life. 

Opening in the swirling chaos of a movie set, spiraling into a montage of celebrity fan appearances, including screaming young teenage girls absolutely enthralled by Donovan, hanging onto his every move, blowing kisses, on the verge of fainting at the sight, followed by more appearances in famous places, accompanied by a gorgeous female escort, attending parties, seen with all the right people, where this is a whirlwind life of instant stardom and success.  Yet despite the dream, Donovan is living a lie, as he’s pretending to be something he isn’t, living up to other people’s expectations, where he’s a hollow shell of himself, unfulfilled and distant, not really knowing who he is, hiding a clandestine affair with a dreamy boyfriend Will (Chris Zylka), then getting cold feet when the relationship gets too close, eventually lost in a vast graveyard of extravagance and success, The death and life of John . F Donovan: Club scene YouTube (2:45).  From the ferocity of stardom we’re jettisoned into the lonely life of a young boy, Rupert, seen initially in the mad throes of his favorite TV character, going ballistics at his every move, arriving home late from school, needing to know exactly what he missed from his mother (Natalie Portman), his emotions skyrocketing at every new revelation in the show, where he is the picture of every wild and obsessed movie fan.  Yet he’s also bullied and teased relentlessly at school, repeatedly called “gayboy,” subject to an onslaught of homophobic gay slurs, an American exiled in London, brought there by his mother pursuing her own non-existent acting career, feeling totally out of place, rejected at every turn, so he starts a writing correspondence with his favorite actor, John F. Donovan, who surprisingly writes back, developing a personal correspondence that lasts for years, which he keeps secret, where this long-distance relationship offers him the only real friend he has in the world.  But things go haywire when he reveals his remarkable friendship in a “show and tell” school assignment, as everyone is certain he’s making it all up, that it’s all a figment of his imagination, but when he digs into his backpack to offer proof, one of the kids has stolen all the letters, seen laughing at him as the school bus drives away.  Not knowing what else to do, he breaks into the kid’s home to retrieve the letters, but is promptly arrested, leaving his mother in a dizzying hole of anxious cluelessness.  From the whirlwind opening of celebrity and fame, we’re equally drawn into this secret life of a lonely young kid who’s at his wits end, the death and life of john f. donovan jacob tremblay YouTube (3:19).  Like an unraveling soap opera, the melodramatic flourish on display is intoxicating, often using pop music to accentuate themes, but Tremblay is a child star, nailing every scene he’s in, becoming a compelling figure not often seen in movies, as his role is the dominating figure.  The moment he realizes his idol has died from a suspected drug overdose, seen on a television news report, his world is crushed.  Equally deluged in anxiety and confusion is the life of Donovan, who is rumored to be gay and closeted, tormented by the tabloid press, where he starts questioning himself, wondering what if i don’t belong here? YouTube (3:18).  The film is an explosion of raw nerves, a choreography of inner revelations, featuring extraordinary acting by everyone involved, as this is such intensely personal territory, at times simply enthralling.  Dolan bridges their different worlds through a clever device, as Rupert grows up, turning into actor Ben Schnetzer, now aged 21, publishing a book about the letters and his experiences, interviewed by Thandie Newton as a cynical New York Times journalist who initially shows no sign of interest whatsoever, failing to even read his book, yet slowly and assuredly Rupert wins her over, cutting through all the bullshit and pre-conceived notions (like Dolan answering all his critics), simply offering his own truth to all the doubters out there. 

Kathy Bates plays Donovan’s agent, Barbara Haggermaker, and has a killer scene when she drops him as her client, as he’s gotten into fights and caused mayhem on the sets, driven into a paranoiac rage, perhaps fueled by drugs, where he’s turned into somebody else, someone she no longer recognizes, yet her brutal honesty is stunning, where it’s a beautiful thing to see her in a role that suits her so perfectly.  Susan Sarandon plays Donovan’s mother, something of an alcoholic herself, but a true diva, worshipping herself at the expense of others, bitter after an unhappy marriage with his father, where her son remains a foreign entity, as if from another planet.  Yet she has an amazingly tender scene with him near the end, actually offering the healing power of maternal love, providing the balance that’s been missing in his life, reassuring him that she’s always known his true self.  Natalie Portman provides what may be the best moment in the film, when Rupert’s school teacher Mrs. Kureishi (Amara Karan, excellent in her small role) drops off an essay he wrote about his mother, throwing all his personal resentments aside, realizing how important she is in his life, which hits her like a ton of bricks, racing off to find him, set to Florence + the Machine’s version of Stand By Me, the life and death of john f. donovan stand by me YouTube (3:23), which is simply phenomenal filmmaking.  This overall thread of powerful women onscreen is certainly the heart and soul of this film, following in the footsteps of Douglas Sirk and his often derided “women’s pictures” (viewed much differently today), or Almodóvar’s continuing tribute to women, where it feels as if the women are providing trailblazing moments, as Dolan has never had the opportunity to work with such talent, yet he utilizes them in such original ways, where they stand for the best in us.  The hole that Donovan digs for himself is perplexing, disavowing his friendship with Rupert when the tabloids press him on it, betraying him when he needs him the most, yet as his world spirals out of control, he tenderly writes a final letter to Rupert, burrowed into the back of an empty restaurant kitchen, where he’s greeted by a stranger who accidentally appears (Michael Gambon, aka Professor Albus Dumbledore in the last Harry Potter movies), almost like an answered prayer, providing a voice for his gnawing conscience, offering, at least for a brief moment, some clarity.  It’s Portman, however, that reads his final letter, John F Donovan’s Last Letter YouTube (3:02), that reads like a final testimony, providing a summation of his life in turmoil, reaching out once again to his biggest fan and supporter, urging him to just be himself, something he, himself, could never be, for whatever reasons, perhaps it was the times, dogged by his own insecurities and fears, unable to accept a gay life navigated from the closet, concluding “I can’t afford to be this way!”  Thandie Newton joins this female assault to the senses, having the last word, being won over by this stranger she had no initial interest in meeting, accustomed to reporting from war zones, reluctantly thinking it would be a waste of time, that she had more pressing international issues to deal with, thinking she’d just give him the brush off, yet she’s intrigued by his powerful message and the awesome implications of his cruel and difficult journey, where he may not have fame and celebrity, or the power of advertising to hype his existence and sell his message, but he’s a quiet and compelling voice, honest, open, and unpretentious, all the things John Donovan could never be, defiantly unashamed, very comfortable in his own skin, where he has transcended all those earlier social limitations and is on a completely different pathway, now baring his restless soul, like an artist, intrinsically recognizing the value of simply being yourself, THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JOHN F. DONOVAN "End Scene" YouTube (3:00).

Room

ROOM               B+                  

Ireland  Canada  (118 mi)  2015)  d:  Lenny Abrahamson      Official site

One of the most devastating films you could possibly see, not at all easy to endure, leaving viewers emotionally drained and exhausted afterwards, though in the process making the appalling subject matter feel like essential viewing.   Based on a 2010 novel by the same name from Emma Donoghue, who also provided the screenplay, ROOM is a fictionalized recreation seemingly inspired by real life sexual imprisonment cases like Josef Fritzl who kept his own daughter imprisoned in a hidden cellar for 24-years, sexually abusing her the entire time, or Natascha Kampusch and Sabine Dardenne, all survivors of the worst abduction cases imaginable.  A follow up to Abrahamson’s uniquely compelling 2014 Top Ten List #10 Frank , whose expertise appears to be examining the lives of damaged souls, it doesn’t take long to figure out what we’re dealing with is a trapped existence, as the world onscreen identified as “Room” is a windowless 10-by-10 foot space with a skylight above that is too high to reach.  Inside are a mother and child, with Brie Larson from Short Term 12 (2013) as Ma trying to make life as normal as possible for her young 4-year old son Jack (Jacob Tremblay) who has lived his entire life here.  What’s immediately distinctive is the discovery that this world is seen through young Jack’s eyes, providing his own voiceover narration, where this is all he knows, where he’s learned to tell the difference between life in Room and life on television, which is an invented reality, but he has no conception whatsoever of a world outside.  With his long hair below the shoulders that constantly gets in his face, the film immerses us in his mood shifts and daily routines, peppering his mom with incessant questions all day while they do morning exercises, making him run back and forth from one side to the other, play games together, sing songs, share a bath, eat rather common meals that Jack grows tired of from time to time, while Ma reads him bedtime stories like The Count of Monte Cristo (which deals with a prison escape) that challenge his imagination.  Initially it’s all about establishing the monotonous, unglamorized details of their ordinary existence, where each night Jack says goodnight to his bed, toilet, closet, sink, table, chair, all the things he’s intimately familiar with, and in doing so, provides the extent of this claustrophobic, closed-in world.  It’s heart wrenching to see how Ma has spent every ounce of her energy teaching, nurturing, and entertaining this child who loves to watch Dora the Explorer on TV, limiting the time glued in front of the screen as otherwise they would both end up zombies, though occasionally she’s too depressed to even get out of bed in the morning and can spend hours sometimes simply staring out into space at nothing at all. 

In the evenings, Jack sleeps in the cupboard behind wood shutters as Ma is visited by Old Nick (Sean Bridgers), the one who kidnapped her 7-years ago when she was only 19, who opens a steel fortified door locked by an electronic security code, replenishing their meager food and supplies before forcing himself on her at will while continually reminding her how grateful she should be for what little he does bring, constantly complaining of their added “expense,” as he’s out of work, growing violently irritable and quick-tempered if she actually asks for anything they may need.  Sometimes Jack can be seen counting numbers until he leaves, at which point Ma moves him back to the regular double bed where they sleep.  For his 5th birthday, they make a small cake together, but he’s disappointed there are no candles, growing frustrated and temperamental at times, but what’s explicitly clear is they each give one another a reason to live.  Now that he’s older, she tries to expand the world inside to include the one outside, describing bits and pieces of her childhood for him, but he can’t even imagine what’s on the other side of the walls, as he’s never seen it, where the only outside images come from the television.  When the electric power is turned off, she grows more desperate, forced to eat out of cans where frost can be seen on their breath, so she teaches him how to wiggle out of being trapped inside a rolled-up carpet, writing him a note to hand to someone, explaining what to do once he’s finally on the outside, using him for her planned escape.  From the slowed down pace where there was all the time in the world, like their bath when they were splashing water on each other, this rapidly accelerating pace adds a different dimension, creating increasing tension and dread, as Jack is obviously afraid and doesn’t really understand, where she wraps him in the carpet for old Nick’s next visit, claiming he died during the power outage and needs a proper burial, telling him to find someplace nice, where there’s plenty of trees around, growing hysterical at the mere thought of him inspecting the merchandise, screaming to get him out at once, as she can’t stand the sight, leaving her behind in a shivering state of uncontrolled fear.    

Once outside, Jack’s perspective is shown through oblique and distorted angles, becoming an expression of confusion as he’s thrown into the back of a pickup truck, shown from an aerial view as he tries to wiggle out, replaying his mother’s instructions in his head, told not to jump until the truck comes to a stop and then run towards the first person he can find.  But when he’s finally outside, seeing the expanse of the blue sky above, it’s a spectacular moment of complete and utter incomprehension, impossible to even imagine, like waking up on another planet.  It’s a rare cinematic moment, as it should be filled with wonder and rapturous joy, but he’s driven instead by an insane fear that is crippling and paralyzing, as he can’t control where he is and what he’s doing, as every time he tries to run, he stumbles and falls, allowing an angrily pissed off Old Nick to grab him and snatch the note out of his hand, trying to drag him back to the truck, where Jack’s voice fails him as well, as he can’t cry out, but a guy walking his dog just happens to be there witnessing this odd spectacle, where the barking dog appears to spook Nick, who also runs away in fear, leaving a befuddled kid behind who can’t explain where he lives.  It was a risky plan that surprisingly worked, where a kindly female police officer is called onto the scene to try to sort things out, where Jack remains a ball of confusion in exasperated turmoil, unable to comprehend what he sees, where nothing makes sense to him.  Somehow, Officer Parker (Amanda Brugel) is able to decode Jack’s nearly indecipherable comments, turning into a more recognizable rescue scene, where Jack and his panicked mother remain in a state of shock, transported to a hospital room that may as well be a completely made up world.  The rest is harder to convey, where Ma’s name ironically is Joy, as she just wants to be reunited with her family, though the medical staff recommends a transitionary period of adjustment, but they are whisked off instead to a new house somewhere in front of a throng of well-wishers and television cameras swarming out front, creating an utter spectacle that they’re not ready for just yet.  While Joy guts it out, trying to remain a strong presence, she discovers her own parents are divorced, Joan Allen and William H. Macy, that they don’t live together anymore, instead Grandma is living with a new friend Leo (Tom McCamus), all of which scares the living bejesus out of Jack. 

In something of a surprise, the narrative is extended beyond the rescue, where there is obviously more “behind” the story that the public rarely sees, where there are no easy roads to travel, as instead it’s a mish mosh of guilt, blame, wrong turns and recriminations, not to mention constantly adjusted expectations, where the extraordinary patience displayed by the calmness of the grandparents is in stark contrast to the tumultuous mood swings of Joy and Jack, whose behavior couldn’t be more inconsistent, both likely even more seriously traumatized than the film suggests, which may be the only serious flaw in making this material accessible to the public.  Overly timid and uncommunicative, where men in particular are an intimidating threat, Jack adapts quicker than his mother, where he learns to appreciate the kindness and helpful nature of his grandparents, who offer some of the more tender moments in the film.  Joy, on the other hand, is goaded into doing a misguided television interview for a big wad of badly needed cash, feeling the need for financial independence and not be so dependent on others, but she’s ill-equipped for the consequences, where she’s more in denial than ever about her own emotional fragility, unable to make sense of her parent’s split and the emotional distance that has come between them, wrongly blaming herself, feeling worthless and overly guilty for allowing what happened in the first place, as if it’s her fault, seeing herself more as an abject failure, where now that Jack’s found the helping hand of others, she’s not really needed anymore, going on a downward spiral where at some point she simply collapses, requiring extensive hospitalization, where Jack for the first time in his life must fend for himself without her.  It’s a portrait of unbearable sadness, where outside the Room there is so much space to fill, where both are overcome by the vastness of it all that literally overwhelms them with a crushing force they can’t hold off, where it seems there are too few therapists present, as this should be a standard part of the recovery process, but they’re expected to carry the weight of the world on their own.  While we are witness to really standout performances throughout, there’s a beautifully poignant reunification scene between the mother and son when Jack expresses an interest in returning to the Room, where he misses it.  Under police presence, surrounded by evidence tape, it’s hard for Jack to believe that this cramped, miniscule box was his entire universe for the first years of his life, where he remembers it as being so much more, but gone are all the drawings and personal attachments that made it feel like home, where all that’s left is a starkly barren storage shed that has been emptied of all its contents, where silently, under cover of a softly falling snow, they hold hands and walk into the uncertain future together.