All the Real Girls

ALL THE REAL GIRLS                  A                                                                     

USA  (108 mi)  2003  ‘Scope  d:  David Gordon Green

That was all her.  That was rehearsal.  That’s her heart and her soul.  Those little whispers and little moments; it’s not a witty screenwriter behind there, it’s a genuine girl that feels things and has a sensitivity you fall in love with.  At least I do.  It’s those little moments that make relationships I’ve had memorable.  It’s the weird little quirks in girls’ mannerisms and behavior.  Going on a structured date and going through the routines of relationships is inconsequential and ultimately forgettable.  But it’s those little things that just stab you when they’re gone, when you know you’re not going to get that whisper in your ear anymore.   

―David Gordon Green on Zooey Deschanel

This played at Sundance and was released very quickly afterwards, given a Special Jury Prize for “emotional truth,” yet disappeared from movie theaters after about a week.  A different kind of love story that doesn’t offer easy answers, with a script that is refreshingly original and accessible, much different from George Washington (2000), where the overall theme is about heartbreak, something we’ve all experienced, and somehow, it’s our own lives that are magically transformed onscreen. This film has a wonderful intensity level that grows stronger as the film progresses, as we become personally involved with the outcome.  Much of the opening ensemble sequences are damn near incomprehensible, multiple Southern drawls all talking at once, like David Gordon Green was using one of Altman’s sound men.  And as brilliant and powerful as this film is, the only disappointment is it is missing an ending that knocks your socks off, like the rest of the film does.  Instead, it just moves quietly into another day.  To be a film for the ages, arguably Green’s best film, some believe it needs more.  While Criterion was impressed enough to distribute David Gordon Green’s original feature, George Washington (2000), complete with early student shorts, they passed on this film, emotionally raw and narratively oblique at times, still unpolished, where the sound is either too soft or too loud (at the racetrack), but utterly authentic in representing the frame of mind of the inexpressibility of youth, where they experience the feelings, but can’t express them, ending up lost in a wasteland of internal friction and frustration, like not being able to walk when you need to get across the room.  Zooey Deschanel is a revelation delivering her breakout role as a young woman returning from boarding school to her small home town, where she falls in love for the first time.  Green depicts the tentative courtship between Paul (Schneider) and Noel (Deschanel) in a series of beautifully filmed vignettes interspersed with scenes of day to day life in a small mining town set in the Blue Ridge Mountains.  Co-written with Paul Schneider, who also stars, All the Real Girls is simultaneously achingly accurate and poetic in its portrait of first love.  I still recall being asked by a theater patron after a viewing what I thought this film was about, unhesitatingly responding, “Heartache.”  

 

One could easily mistake this for a Terence Malick film, which is an exceptional compliment, as it thrives in a world filled with tenderness and an understated, poetic elegance.  The power of this film evolves slowly with the exposure of tiny revelations from each carefully nuanced character, all so beautifully etched into this small-town Southern environment of Marshall, a North Carolina mill town, perfectly captured by the extraordinary ‘Scope work of cinematographer Tim Orr.  But this is some of the best ensemble acting on screen today, particularly poignant is the performance of Zooey Deschanel, who is nothing short of brilliant, and the supporting performances of Patricia Clarkson (Schneider’s mother) and Shea Wingham as Tip (Deschanel’s brother and Schneider’s best friend).  What’s tragically obvious in this story of two would-be lovers is that they can’t make a move without the whole town knowing about it, so they act in ways they never intend, and then hardly recognize themselves afterwards.  As Tip’s best friend and partner in crime, both have reputations for sleeping with all the women in town but never sticking with them afterwards, like conquests in the night, slinking away afterwards, never bothering to call.  Paul, who’s never seen life as more than one-night stands, never peering over the horizon at what his future could be, is extremely aware that Noel is the younger sister to his overprotective best friend, and while she urges closer contact, he’s a bit standoffish, not wanting to piss off his friend, also knowing his own reputation as the town lothario, wanting this to somehow be different.  Tip doesn’t have an easy time with it either, flying off the handle, revealing a violent temper, brutally taking it out on some innocent kid, though his real ire is with Paul, angrily stomping off afterwards, screaming, “We ain’t friends no more.  You ain’t even in my top ten!”  Reminiscent of the Dostoevsky short story White Nights, which is the source material for Bresson’s Four Nights of a Dreamer (Quatre nuits d'un rêveur... (1971), also an earlier Visconti film White Nights (La Niotti Bianche) (1957) with Marcello Mastroianni, while there is another unseen 1959 Russian film by the same name, but this story does bring the film a little closer into focus.  In the same way ALL THE REAL GIRLS is about “him,” yes, it shows “her” in all her glory, and Zooey Deschanel dominates the screen time, but ultimately, it’s about a guy who loves and doesn’t get the girl, ending up brooding in his own misery, confused by the possibilities, getting in his own way, ignoring all the positive signs.   

In small towns, aimless rural kids travel in packs, always seemingly together, even when it makes no sense, with males and females separated in their own cliques, with only the alpha males making the female sexual conquests, while the rest are pretty much dorks.  An emotionally driven film, mostly told through photography and sound, one can appreciate Green’s auteur style, using improvisation, orchestrating scenes with slow camera approaches and long, static shots, using fade outs to express the passing of time.  A sense of awkwardness prevails, reflecting the ages of the kids, finding it difficult to communicate the overwhelming flood of intense and distinct emotions happening simultaneously.  While there are eccentric aspects to some of the stylizations, Green does not shy away from just how alone some kids feel, especially those that are different or afflicted with disabilities, but here they are loved and appreciated, even if their parents are a bit weird themselves.  One of the telling scenes takes place in a bar, with Paul drinking heavily, feeling sorry for himself, trying to apologize to one of the many girls he left behind, Mary-Margaret (Heather McComb), but she’s having none of it, filled with her own righteous anger, “You’re not sorry.  You know how I know that?  Because you’re not smart enough to be sorry.  Guys like you... you never quit, and you never leave ― you’re gonna be here forever.  How does it make you feel knowing that?”  There’s an underlying nihilism at stake here, challenging any sense of optimism, but no matter how bleak the times, there’s a sense that this too shall pass.  This film has a familiar feel with Andrew J. Smith’s THE SLAUGHTER RULE (2002), another delicate film exquisitely acted that beautifully captures small-town Montana, but Green broadens his vision by creating long, extended sequences of wonderfully small moments, working on cars, hanging out in a playground, sitting by a riverside, talking on a porch or in an industrial wasteland, in a café, in a bedroom, some moments seem lost and disconnected, but others are achingly real, and in combination with the luminous imagery, there are moments of brilliance in this film, the power of which is that they are just so damned believable.  One of the best films of the year, BEST FILMS SEEN IN THE YEAR 2003 - Cranes Are Flying, this is one gorgeous film experience with a terrific musical score by David Wingo and Michael Linnen, featuring a host of promising new musicians that fit the indie groove, opening with Will Oldham - All These Vicious Dogs (All the Real Girls version) YouTube (3:10), featuring the incredibly beautiful Sparklehorse - Sea Of Teeth YouTube (4:31), my personal favorite Cactus Wren - YouTube (4:42) by Mark Olson and the Creekdippers, with the dreamy singalong Say Goodbye Good - The Promise Ring - YouTube (6:46) playing over the end credits, where the emotional authenticity from the characters perfectly matches the visually rich power of the images.

Bright Star

BRIGHT STAR                 A-            

Great Britain  Australia  (119 mi)  2009  d:  Jane Campion 

  

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art —
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors —
No, yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillowed upon my fair love's ripening breast —
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever — or else swoon to death.

—John Keats, from The Last Sonnet, 1819, 637. Last Sonnet. John Keats. The Oxford Book of English Verse 

Thank God somebody still shoots on 35 mm and produces a “real” film that in every detail looks the way film is supposed to look, where color, detail, and art matter.  A film laced with Campion themes and ideas, all beautifully rendered, where one especially admires the meticulous attention to minor details, this is a tormented love story between a sickly young poet John Keats (Ben Whishaw), unheralded at the time, and his inspiration, the object of his affection, Fanny Brawne (Abbie Cornish), who is consumed by his adoration.  From start to finish this film is an idealization immersed in Romanticism that freely mixes speech and theatricality into cinema in an attempt to broaden the audience’s understanding of the period, from the composition of each shot, where each frame is a portrait in still life, to the extraordinary use of costumes, where actress Abbie Cornish is decorated throughout in simply outrageous, overly dressed outfits which seem to exist only in the movies, to moments where characters break out in a song or dance, and are encouraged by others to do so, usually met with applause, but most importantly with the reverential use of language, which is after all, what we have left from the writings of English poet John Keats, who died of tuberculosis when he was 25.  Jane Campion has done something rarely seen in films without being pretentious (think of Sally Potter’s 2004 film YES which is spoken entirely in iambic pentameter), which is to create a literary language within the film language that interjects itself from time to time, like a film within a film, or a play within a play, where characters break out into lines of poetry, spoken to one another just like ordinary conversation, except the language itself is such a thing of beauty, including the perfectly exquisite way it’s being spoken, that it feels as if we’re being transported into an entirely new Shakespearean play of young lovers.  This theatrical device increases the emotional intensity and saturates the screen with yet another layer of sensuousness on top of the luscious and inspired cinematography from Greig Fraser, not to mention the hauntingly lovely musical score from Mark Bradshaw. 

Everything in this film points to sensuality, from the eloquent way they speak to one another, to the manner of her dress, to the intimately stylized way they’re being framed in close up, followed by idyllic, painterly long shots of her two younger siblings as portraits of innocence in a luscious, unspoiled landscape, always capturing the natural beauty of the world outdoors reminiscent of the cinematic poetry of Terrence Malick’s DAYS OF HEAVEN (1978).  Written by Campion herself, seen through the eyes of Fanny Brawne, we are thrown into a period drama without any introduction or preface, where John Keats has already written his first book of Poems as well as his follow up Endymion, but he remains penniless and not yet a writer of repute, living nearby and supported by a friend Charles Brown (Paul Schneider), a somewhat rakish, ill-mannered gentleman who spends all of his time in the company of Keats, probably borrowing liberally from his writing methods, supposedly liberated fellows intent on writing poetry.  Campion captures the irony of the Romantic era as a period of female acquiescence where Fanny’s quick tongue and self confidence immediately fascinates Keats with her beauty and outspoken candor, not to mention her new interest in his poetry.  Interestingly, Fanny has a skill in clothing design and wears her stunning creations as if on parade throughout the film, where she can usually be seen sitting quietly in a chair with needle and thread.  Keats is seen as reserved, isolated, and shy, well mannered, with a moral disposition and a keen awareness for language, while Fanny is still a teenager at the time and appears self-centered, a bit conceited in her dress and opinion of others, yet she’s also thoughtfully inquisitive, especially for things beyond her reach, like the world of poetry, which quickly becomes her latest curiosity.  She is seen throughout accompanied by her younger brother and sister, as a “proper” lady never goes anywhere unaccompanied. 

The initial signs of love are simply a ravenous desire to talk with and be in the company of one another, all of which couldn’t be more natural, even when moving into the theatrical language of the era, stealing moments while trying to elude the net that the possessive Mr. Brown surrounds Keats with, who’s probably of the opinion there’s money to be made from this young protégé.  But the flowering of their love couldn’t be more exquisitely realized, especially with walks in the woods and the remarkably inspired butterfly scenes with her little sister Toots (Edie Martin), also a few shots of Fanny in the throes of love, laying on her bed as the curtains flutter in the breeze, or happily playing in a field exploding in the color of violet flowers with her precocious younger sister, actually projecting her love for Keats to her little sister and the rest of the world at the moment.  But trouble ensues, as Keats tries to earn a living elsewhere, where the entire world stops during those anguishing absences until the next letter arrives, where his letters are all that matters in the world.  But as Fanny’s mother, Kerry Fox from An Angel at My Table (1990) and INTIMACY (2001) points out, Keats does not have the financial means to marry, so Fanny’s family is concerned with this all consuming passion, as it prevents her from meeting more economically prosperous prospects.  It is the era of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice where even strong, opinionated women have absolutely no opportunity in life other than to marry a rich husband.  Other than that, they were viewed contemptuously by men thinking their opinion as pretty much worthless, which is exactly the way Fanny is viewed by Mr. Brown, so Campion really gets the tone of the era right.  This social dilemma haunts the couple like a plague throughout their entire lives.

After Keats’ brother dies of tuberculosis, followed by his sudden fascination with Fanny Brawne, his poetry takes on an increasing complexity, intermingling the subjects of love and death, eventually falling victim to tuberculosis himself, soon having to come to terms with his own mortality, writing in one of his last letters: “How astonishing does the chance of leaving the world impress a sense of its natural beauties on us.”  Set in the poverty stricken, pre-industrial, pre-Victorian world of the 1820’s, there was no treatment for tuberculosis other than bed rest and moving to a more temperate climate, so his need to write, like Mozart on his death bed writing his own Requiem, becomes a race with time.  When Keats moves to Italy during the winters, their love affair appears doomed, but Fanny’s hopes throughout will not be deterred.  The blissful optimism of their budding love affair takes on darker, somber tones by the end, where much of the story is advanced through the reading of letters, as Cornish does an excellent job releasing her pent up anguish at the end where she lets out a ghastly death wail.  The finale over the end credits was unnecessarily confusing, as Whishaw reads “Ode to a Nightingale” (Ode to a Nightingale by John Keats | Poetry Foundation) in its entirety while music plays over the credits all the way to the end, but theater patrons are gathering their coats, talking with one another, even starting cellphone conversations, all with noisy, typical end-of-film behavior, which for most patrons happens as soon as the credits roll, so the voice onscreen couldn’t really be heard over the commotion and just sounded like it went on and on endlessly.  It’s an unfortunate finale, leaving some customers puzzled, as the rest of the film couldn’t have been more meticulously well-constructed, quiet, restrained, uncompromising, and well acted, always finding the right tone between the two characters, who could never marry or even consummate their love, as Keats was an English gentleman.  Certainly the Romantics were fond of suffering, and the initial bliss of love in this relationship is replaced by a tortuous longing for which there is no release, not even after death.  Such is the power of being in the everlasting grasp of love.