Sally Hawkins and director Mike Leigh on the set of Happy-Go-Lucky
HAPPY-GO-LUCKY B
Great Britain (118
mi) 2008
‘Scope d: Mike Leigh
Are you happy?
This question is asked several times throughout the film,
almost as a throwaway line, as it can easily get lost in the continuous babble
of the lead character known as Poppy (Sally Hawkins). While she asks it of others, the question is
more appropriately asked of her. For the
opening thirty minutes or more, it is impossible to wipe that smile off her
face, as if it is artificially attached.
Whether good or bad circumstances, she simply exudes a dizzying good
humor that feels more like a reflex action than the real thing, as if all the
nervous chatter coming out of her mouth is covering up something that lies
beneath. She lives with a more grounded
roommate Zoe, Alexis Zegerman, her best friend in the world, as they traveled
through Australia and Southeast Asia together and now both teach inner city
elementary school children in London, but the storyline implies there is perhaps
more to their relationship. Poppy,
however, is also interested in men, as if bisexual curiosity offers a means to
explore her own sense of unfulfilled identity, which at age thirty is still an
open question. It is as a teacher that
Poppy finally gets serious, as her tendency to overreact to everything in
general is in perfect synch to the world of first graders, as rather than
berate an obviously troubled child who is starting to hit other children, she
befriends him with the hopes of earning his trust. Her affection is in earnest, but the audience
wonders what troubled past of her own remains concealed. This is exacerbated further in a somewhat
surreal scene where she inexplicably puts herself in harm’s way and visits an
obviously crazed homeless man (Stanley Townsend) and tries to connect with him,
as if attempting to bring him some degree of warmth or happiness. Some give their pocket change, Poppy gives
her smile and good cheer. But upon
returning home, she conceals where she’s been, as if she can’t really explain
it even to herself.
Leigh is known by his connection to theater and his rigorous
improvisational rehearsals not only prior to shooting but prior to developing
his story. Unfortunately, much of this
film feels like an attempt to string together several of these worked out
sequences, never really creating a cohesive whole. As a result, the story becomes a contrast in
moods told in different segments, a visit to a book store, girls night out at
the disco, Poppy’s stolen bicycle and her subsequent decision to take driving
lessons from an irascible, pathologically uptight misanthrope (Eddie Marsan)
who is the living personification of road rage, flamenco dance classes from an
infinitely charming (“This is My Space!!!”) Spanish instructor from
Seville (Karina Fernandez, who it turns out is not even Spanish), who
encourages women to seek their flamboyant side, a gentleman caller, visits to
her discordant family members, as well as scenes from school. What these scenes all have in common is that
they are revealed from the singular perspective of Poppy’s character, which
becomes clearer and of greater interest over time. Despite this development, Poppy continues to
remain a mystery, as she obviously wants to please the world around her but the
magical unanswered question is why? What
motivates her? Behind the smiles and the
giggles and the sarcastic, smart aleck comments, one wonders if she’s truly
happy or simply pretending to be.
Throughout the film we wait for the other shoe to fall, for
Poppy’s relentlessly cheerful disposition to be put to the test, but strangely,
it never is, not seriously anyways, which is something of a disappointment, as
it leaves us in limbo with the glass half empty and half full. What are we to make of this? While the look of the film is filled with
bright cheerful colors, red and yellow cars and Poppy’s own psychedelically
charged bohemian outfits, with a different pair of knee-length boots for every
day of the week, there’s an overly strident string quartet from Gary
Yershon’s score heard throughout the film that has a carnival air about
it, as if we are caught on a merry-go-round, whose somewhat pompous notes on
occasion offer a sneer of disapproval, like the intrusion of gray clouds, perhaps
the voice of the director or some smug I-told-you-so narration. The constant theme of chamber music reminds
us this is a chamber drama which offers a window into the typically intensely
realistic Mike Leigh rendering of the human condition, dressed up here with
bright sunshine and good cheer, but the picture of happiness on display here nonetheless
borders on the artificially realized and the surreal, remaining equally elusive,
hard to find, and arguably out of reach.
