Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret.

 

Director Kelly Fremon Craig

Director on the set with Rachel McAdams

Ensemble with novelist Judy Blume

Novelist Judy Blume

ARE YOU THERE GOD?  IT’S ME, MARGARET.           B                                                 USA  (106 mi)  2023  d: Kelly Fremon Craig

There have been plenty of recent coming-of-age films, Richard Linklater’s Apollo 10 1/2: a Space Age Childhood (2022), Colm Bairéad’s The Quiet Girl (An Cailín Ciúin) (2022), James Gray’s Armageddon Time (2022), Paul Thomas Anderson’s Licorice Pizza (2021), or Paolo Sorrentino’s The Hand of God (È stata la mano di Dio) (2021), this one is set in the 1970’s, adapted from what is perhaps the most famous work of American children’s novelist Judy Blume, selected in 1970 as the outstanding book of the year by the New York Times, with Blume making a brief cameo appearance walking her dog in the neighborhood.  The star of the show is young Abby Ryder Fortson as 11-year old Margaret Simon, seen returning from the fun and games of summer camp when she is suddenly thrust into a sea of change as her family is moving from Manhattan in the city to the suburbs of New Jersey, which her parents are thrilled about, her mother Barbara (a very sunny Rachel McAdams) and father Herb (Benny Safdie), whose promotion precipitated the move, but Margaret is dumbfounded at the thought of losing her friends and stability, also the joy of living with her adoring, acid-tongued grandmother Sylvia (Kathy Bates, a wacky delight in every single scene), who will remain in the city.  It’s all a bit much, but she’s just a kid, so what can she do about it?  Out of sheer desperation, she starts praying to God, having little to do with organized religion, yet asking for immediate intervention, which becomes a regular occurrence, hoping she can salvage some bit of happiness in her budding life that appears to be a disaster in the making.  The film has a comic edge that’s smart and funny, but most of all we get to heart of what Margaret is going through, suddenly thrust into a life she never asked for, feeling abandoned and desperately alone.  Like an answer to her prayers, she meets a new friend on the day they arrive in their new home, an empty house filled with nothing but boxes, as a brazenly confident neighbor, Nancy Wheeler (Elle Graham), a girl her same age, struts into their living room as the neighborhood welcoming committee, prying her away from the sure disaster that awaits her and invites her over to her own home, the biggest house on the block, where entering her bedroom is like walking into a girl fantasia, with Nancy acting like they’ve been friends for years, where sharing women’s secrets seems to be of primary importance to her, wanting to form an exclusive club, with Margaret suddenly caught up in this rush of girl camaraderie, which is all about not wearing socks, boys, bras and bust sizes, kissing, and having your first period.  This is a girly film about bodily changes, delving into humiliations and embarrassments that are unique to women, filled with all the adolescent anxieties of pre-puberty, where at that age just fitting in is all that matters, as it’s a lonely place to feel that you don’t belong.   

In the year of Greta Gerwig’s BARBIE (2023), which has generated all the press, this film addresses many of the same issues without all the plastic artificiality, where young girls can channel their lives through Margaret, who expresses all the angst and unknown they are going through, filled with neverending questions, where you just never know what to expect.  At its core, this is a story about change and belonging, as childhood can be a cruel and messy landscape to navigate on your own, where cliques, gossip, and feuds only exacerbate that anxiety, with this mainstream film having no lofty ambitions, instead it’s just a simple, character-driven story told in a way that feels very human and honest.  As fate would have it, Nancy is in the same 6th grade class as Margaret, who is the last member to be invited into the club, the other members being Gretchen Potter (Katherine Kupferer) and Janie Loomis (Amari Price), the lone black student seen in the school, quickly discovering the other three all have the same secret crush, the dashingly handsome Philip Leroy (Zackary Brooks), but Margaret secretly prefers Moose Freed (Aidan Wojtak-Hissong), convincing her father to hire him for lawn mowing duties after her dad injures himself using a power mower.  Blume is a white, middle-class mother who spent her childhood in Elizabeth, New Jersey, so much of this rings true from her perspective, where the suburbs are kind of a perfect world fantasyland with no real conflict, a time of tumultuous political and societal change, yet there is no mention of Vietnam or any other social issues of the times, and no sign of any poor characters, yet one interesting aspect is that Margaret’s mother, Barbara, is in the same state of flux as her daughter, trying to redefine who she is in the changing times of the 70’s, a former art teacher who is suddenly a stay-at-home mom, making herself useful by attending PTA meetings and volunteering for every single committee, forever trying to reconfigure their new home, where she acts as a medium for her inquisitive daughter who is constantly searching for answers.  There is an obvious parallel between mother and daughter, but this is Margaret’s story, in an era without a smartphone and an inability to search for biological answers to many of her questions, where girls grew up in a moral panic about what the future brings.  One intriguing aspect of this family, Margaret’s father and beloved grandmother are Jewish while her mother was raised Christian, with Margaret having the opportunity to choose her own religion when she grows up.  But Margaret grows curious why they never spend any time with her mother’s family, which leads to the discovery that her parents are devoutly religious who disowned their daughter when she married a Jewish husband, despite the fact they loved each other, an appalling revelation that makes no sense to a young, undeveloped mind, so she starts to explore the different religions. 

The novel, frequently cited on lists of banned books over the past fifty years due to its frank discussion of puberty, is told in the first person, where every moment is filtered through the eye of its eleven-year old protagonist, and while the tone of the film remains faithful to the book, grounded by its inherent humanity, it also appeals to an adult sensibility, using ironic humor as a warm contrast to the bracing coming-of-age experiences.  Adapted by the director, it’s the first time since the book was published that the author has allowed an adaptation, yet this one is filled with a poignant tenderness as we follow Margaret spending a birthday with the entire class, or play spin the bottle, or spend two minutes in a closet with a randomly picked boy, positively thrilled at the idea of a coed party, filled with the anxiousness that brings.  Margaret’s closet time is spent with Philip Leroy, the envy of all the girls, who provides her first kiss, where the musical soundtrack humorously cuts in with Dusty Springfield singing Dusty Springfield - Son of a preacher man YouTube (2:25), inventively cutting afterwards to Margaret visiting various church services of her friends, while also attending a temple service with her grandmother, yet none feel right to her, as she was never moved by the presence of God.  Among the better scenes are her discovery that Nancy is a control freak that needs to feel superior, like a Mean Girl Queen Bee (ironically played by Rachel McAdams in the 2004 Tina Fey movie), often belittling the actions of others to mask her own insecurities, a reflection of her own parents’ country club mentality, yet the real tour de force is a visit from the long lost parents of her mother who have had second thoughts about their decision, attempting a sense of reconciliation by means of their granddaughter, holding out hope that she’s a Christian, wondering if she’s been baptized, but real adversity arrives in the form of her abrasive grandmother who faces them down, with religion creating a schism between the families, fighting their own Holy Wars right there in the living room, a contentious display of religious intolerance which leaves Margaret even more perplexed and disappointed.  Her class research paper on the subject is a stinging rebuke of all religion, questioning whether there’s really a God to pray to, or if we are all alone in the universe.  It is easily the most emotionally-charged moment of the film, with passionate ramifications, as it’s the first sign she’s thinking for herself and not just going along with the others, where she even questions whether she wants to be friends any more with Nancy, whose vindictive streak leaves her appalled when she discovers much of her allegations aren’t even true, but are just hurtful remarks subjecting others to ridicule and shame.  It’s a remarkable turn of events, yet this is an intentionally non-judgmental film with a deep understanding of the struggles girls go through, where Margaret and her mother literally grow up before our eyes, making positive decisions about the world around them, which starts with making better choices about themselves.  Definitely a film to watch for parents with daughters in their formative years, Fortson is naturally charismatic, becoming an endlessly compassionate character, yet it’s her mother’s unwavering love for her child that really stands out. 

Revolutionary Road

 

Director Sam Mendes and his wife Kate Winslet

 Actress Kate Winslet

Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio on the set

Director Sam Mendes with DiCaprio and Winslet

DiCaprio and Winslet

Director Sam Mendes with his wife Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

REVOLUTIONARY ROAD            A-                                                                                          Great Britain  USA  (119 mi)  2008  ‘Scope  d: Sam Mendes               

Plenty of people are on to the emptiness, but it takes real guts to see the hopelessness.                 —John Givings (Michael Shannon), “It takes real guts to see the hopelessness” YouTube (2:11)

Another one of those incendiary emotional dramas about doomed lovers, fractured American Dreams, and a marriage on the rocks with plenty of unleashed fireworks, where the real drama is what’s left unsaid in the empty spaces between people that over time all but consumes them, perhaps sealing their fates.  Adapted by Justin Haythe from the infuriatingly personal 1961 Richard Yates novel, this examines the flight to the suburbs in the 1950’s supposedly to lead idyllic lives that never materialize, and how some people are simply disappointed to lead sad, meaningless lives, while others are crushed by it.  What’s truly unique about this film is not only the amount of screen time between the two extraordinary leads, Leonardo DiCaprio (perfectly cast for his naiveté, but no match for Winslet) and Kate Winslet as Frank and April Wheeler, but how the perfect couple (“You’re the Wheelers!”) in their perfect little suburban home come to resemble Ibsen’s Doll House, where Winslet, with the internal force of a hurricane, is truly trapped living a life with a man she comes to loath and despise with so few options available to her.  In hindsight, one might project possibilities that simply didn’t exist yet, instead she was forced to suffer and endure her stiflingly empty existence, made all the more uncomfortable by a husband who was clueless that his own demeaning behavior was the source of her unhappiness, leaving her feeling trapped with no way out.  What’s also interesting here is how few shots include the children, and how their home barely even acknowledges their existence.  This accentuates the self-centered ambitions of the adults, particularly the man, who’s overly defensive and quick to point out things are never his fault, while she believes the only hope is getting the hell out, moving elsewhere, anywhere, suggesting Paris, as that’s the last place her husband felt really happy.  As fate would have it, her husband was given a good sales pitch that he couldn’t refuse, where money induces him into believing he is getting what he wants, while she’s left to fall on the tip of her own sword and expunge any last vestiges of hope.  The last act of the film feels like a horror movie, especially the transition from their worst blow up to an eerily haunting breakfast scene that looks like something out of THE STEPFORD WIVES (1975), as we’re simply waiting in the end to see what tragedy will bring down the final curtain. 

What’s interesting is from the outset, no one tells the truth, as they all seem to be fooling themselves living under a cloud of self delusion.  Early on, we see potholes along the way, as Frank crudely responds to the poor reception an off Broadway play receives in Greenwich Village with his wife as the lead, deciding inappropriately that this is a moment to have a heart to heart talk, which seems more like bullying and taking advantage of her when she’s vulnerable and feeling low.  But she stands up to him in a way only Winslet can, leaving her husband feeling more than a little inadequate.  Next thing you know his inadequacy is replaced by a dream house in Connecticut.  This typifies the problems in their relationship, as he has a built in system of rewards just for himself, which includes an after hours affair, the ability to climb up a career ladder, and the aggravating habit of having the final word on any given subject, including their lives.  He’s also seen as a typically immature male who’s so caught up in himself that he can’t even conceive what she’s going through, a guy who always demands that they see things his way and when she refuses, it leads to acrimony, where he even threatens to call in the shrink, believing she must be crazy not to adhere to his views.  Such is the male-centric world of America in the 1950’s.  There are flashback sequences to their earlier, happier days, where there’s an interesting use of 50’s doo wop songs that shine a light on Winslet’s sensuality, but in no time, their intimacy has been replaced by a mundane life, a dreary job that Frank can’t stand, and an over-indulgence in cigarettes and martini’s and dreams of a better day.  And when Frank pulls the rug out from under her on that score, never really taking the idea of moving to Paris seriously, she feels betrayed, knowing he’s incapable of ever taking her seriously again.  In terms of dramatic fireworks, it’s the film that sets the table for Noah Baumbach’s more recent 2019 Top Ten List #3 Marriage Story.

Kate Winslet is brilliant, as she never resorts to largesse or the Sean Penn style of overdramatized histrionics, but always reels her emotions in, providing a much more naturalistic fit to whatever story she’s in.  She never becomes a character through mimicry, by imitating or duplicating the behavior of others, instead she invents an original person in every single role.  She has an exquisite dance sequence that’s unlike anything we’ve ever seen in her career, Revolutionary Road (2008) | dance scene YouTube (1:15), much of it due to the stylish manner in which it is filmed (by her husband), but her commitment to that character who is simply fed up with the world around her is overwhelming.  And that look on her face as she’s being verbally assaulted by her husband is a thing of beauty, as without a word she couldn’t possibly portray greater strength than that look when she’s staring him right between the eyes.  Frank, as usual, gets the final word, but it’s a lie cruelly designed to demoralize and humiliate her in pure domineering fashion.  But it’s not all gloom and doom.  The unmistakable presence of Michael Shannon as the realtor’s son recently released from a psychiatric ward adds both a humorous change of pace but also a devastating tone of unvarnished, no holds barred truth, the kind that feels like surgically precise, heat seeking missiles shot from a gatling gun as this guy lets them have it and what he has to say is at the very core of the film.  The question is can they handle the truth?  By the end, we may be asking ourselves the same question.  Though it’s an overly somber affair, seen through modern eyes this is an extremely well written film that resembles the acerbic dialogue and cruel power games of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966), which itself was a daring display of acting on the highest order.  Hopefully this may motivate many viewers to rediscover the writing of Richard Yates, as this is a towering work that doesn’t fully come alive onscreen, but its lacerating portrait of middle class despair is completely on target. 

After having read the book:

The book very much resembles the movie, almost exactly, though they each offer their own unique emphasis, as the book emphasizes the constant attention and affirmation demanded by the husband while the movie broadens and intensifies the interior world of the wife.  In the movie, the ending is inevitable, while in the book, the ending is a shock, even in its concise description, as most of the book meticulously details Frank’s perspective, as the world continually revolves around him.  Though short, the book is extremely dense, offering considerable psychological background for every character mentioned, even the minor roles.  Painting a contradictory yet lacerating portrait of the idealized marriage, seemingly the perfect couple to all outsiders, living in their wonderful house in the suburbs, the marriage of Frank and April Wheeler is really deteriorating inside right from the outset when they fly off into one of their many George and Martha Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966) tirades, which in every single instance features a more insecure man browbeating his more emotionally mature wife.  Frank is perfectly played by Leonard DiCaprio, a guy who’s always a little full of himself, but utterly naïve about the consequences of his own decisions, always blaming his own catastrophes on others.  Outside of What’s Eating Gilbert Grape (1993), and perhaps an underrated Spielberg sleeper, Catch Me If You Can (2002), it’s hard to see him in a role that matters, as he’s always too full of his own self-importance.  But that’s exactly the character of Frank Wheeler, a hard drinking computer salesman who thinks he’s smarter than the rest and proves it by doing as little as possible while pulling a paycheck, all the while convincing others, including his wife, that he’s hard at work.  She, on the other hand, has sacrificed whatever artistic possibilities exist in her life to raise their two children, both of whom are barely mentioned in either the movie or book, almost as if they are an afterthought.