Film Review: "The Other Woman (Love and Other Impossible Things)" (2009)

I watched “The Other Woman (or, Love and Other Impossible Things)” a couple of months ago after it had a re-release due to Natalie Portman’s Oscar buzz and eventual Best Actress win for “Black Swan.” There's a lot of people who mercilessly criticize Portman's acting outside of "Black Swan" but I walked away impressed.

“The Other Woman” did not receive critical praise. In fact, as an on-demand option on some cable networks, it darn near was a straight-to-video release. A story about a home-wrecker is simply not a film that’s going to get high praise from the viewing public. There are a lot of people who have visceral reactions to the generic "other woman" --- there is almost no way they will see this character as someone with whom they can identify or empathize. And for that reason, this concept was commercially doomed. Too many people's lives have been affected by infidelity for them to have much of a reaction but disgust or anger. In American literature and movies, the adulteress must get her just desserts for what she's done --- often with her life, or at the very least, any chance at happiness.

And that is essentially what happens to Emilia in “The Other Woman.” After having a seemingly targeted affair with Jack, one of the top lawyers at the firm where she works after graduating from Harvard Law School, Emilia finds herself pregnant. And at this point, the film makes a gracious leap forward in the timeline, bypassing matters of Jack and Carolyne’s divorce and picking up at the point where Jack and Emilia are getting married. But Emilia’s moral debt comes due when Isabel, the child conceived in sin, dies a few days after birth. As the story moves on, we see Emilia sinking into a mix of depression, guilt, and a profoundly awkward relationship with a profoundly awkward William, Jack’s son from the previous marriage. William comes out with some very inappropriate comments (and classroom drawings), even for a pre-adolescent --- one wonders whether there’s a medical or if it’s simply a parroting of Carolyne’s snarky and vindictive attitude. The upshot of it is that Emilia is shown regressing into kid-thought, at times becoming like a second child in the household. She graduated from Harvard Law and can’t seem to win a household argument against a little boy, and is somewhat desperate to justify herself and prove that she was in the right. For instance, when she takes lactose-intolerant William out for ice cream after school and the boy proceeds to soil his pants at a party, Emilia is relieved to find out that some other kids at that party later had that issue as well. She calls to have Jack tell Carolyne that the incident wasn’t her fault… as if it were a huge matter. But to Emilia, burdened with the weight of grave responsibility, it is. And it’s here that I’d like to point out Portman’s nuanced acting that reflects many undercurrents just beneath the surface, but with an exterior façade of appropriate coping. As much as she plays a naïve and neurotic ballerina in “Black Swan,” Portman had to show much more in “The Other Woman.”

After an emotional blowout at a remembrance event in Central Park, where she yells at her father for his infidelity (and seemingly, yelling at herself for her own), Emilia is at a crossroads. She confides a dark secret she’s been harboring --- she believes she smothered Isabel when she fell asleep in bed with her. And here’s where the film has one of its more intriguing moments. Carolyne (played by Lisa Kudrow in a complete cold, bitchy polarity to her “Friends” role of Phoebe) puts aside her loathing of this “Other Woman” and shows some true compassion as she explains to Emilia that there was no chance she accidentally suffocated Isabel. And then the glint of compassion is gone as quickly as it arrived. In many ways, Carolyne’s reaction in this scene tacks closely with the audiences’ view of Emilia. She’s not to blame in the scope of Isabel’s death, but in the larger picture, we won’t forget that she’s no saint.

And so it goes in relationship stories that boy must lose girl (or in this case, vice versa) and Jack decides that Emilia’s behavior is just too much for him. Until, several weeks (or months) later, boy and girl bump into each other, and the time and distance has made them each see the situation more clearly.

“The Other Woman” doesn’t get rave reviews among critics or on the discussion boards. I understand that. It doesn’t deal with popular subject matter. There are many who point and write “J’accuse!” at the screenplay's and novel's writers and intimate that they must be cheaters themselves in order to have this relatively kind treatment. There are many viewers who might want to see the “Other Woman” of the title pay more dearly for her sin. They might prefer that the character of Emilia got some form of cancer and died repeating how remorseful she was for her adultery. Make no mistake that we still live in that kind of world, and that as much as people preach forgiveness (and perhaps they feel forgiveness, too; albeit a guarded brand of it), they are less willing to wish for future happiness for the scarlet woman. And also, to posit the question here, what would our thoughts be if Isabel hadn’t died? Was Isabel's death necessary to redeem Emilia’s sin or sway some measure of audience sympathy? I rather think so… and what a sad circumstance that is necessary for sympathy and forgiveness. How much must be endured before this person is allowed to love again? Emilia is a flawed character in a film mostly full of flawed characters --- and indeed, in a world full of flawed people.

(Photo © "The Other Woman" (2009).  IMDB page.)

T.V. Review: "Single Father" (2010)

On Friday night, I finally got around to watching "Single Father," a 2010 U.K. series starring David Tennant. After his wife, Rita, is killed when her bicycle is hit by a speeding police car that runs a red light, Dave struggles to maintain his complex family structure --- he has a daughter from a previous marriage, Rita had a daughter before they met --- who now wants to meet her biological father --- and they had three children together. As the story unfolds and with some separation of time, Dave must figure out how to move on, and come to terms that his wife had kept secrets from him. An incidental kiss with Rita's best friend, Sarah (Suranne Jones) promises to further complicate his life.

I had only intended to watch the first of four hour-long parts on Friday, but it was really addictive. The screenplay at several junctures seemed a little too tightly woven, but there always has to be a suspension of disbelief mixed with just accepting the plot and watching the story as it plays out. Regardless, the tight weave does nothing to detract from the quality of the story-telling. As much as it begins with a tragedy, this series has a fair amount of humor joining the drama.

Owing to his time on "Doctor Who" and a great turn as Hamlet in 2009, I have become a big fan of David Tennant. (Well, of his acting. I agree not a whit with his overt political views. But hey, nobody's perfect.) He brings so much energy into his craft, he acts with his eyes in ways that few others do, and there's a kind of je ne sais quoi that's just beneath the surface that fine-tunes the precise amount of zaniness for his characters. "Single Father" is a bit of a departure for Tennant, playing a normal person in a normal --- though a bit convoluted --- circumstance apart from previous roles as a Time Lord and the gravitas of the Danish Prince (Tennant has the best performance of the 'To be or not to be' soliloquy that I have ever seen). I think I ought to own up to the fact that as much as they may be looked down upon among machismo males, I've come to rather enjoy these kind of dramas. But I will mitigate this is by saying this series is by no means like the dreck dramas on the Lifetime network. In several ways, with obvious points of departure, it is like a Scottish take on Steve Carrell's enjoyable "Dan in Real Life." It ended in a self-contained manner, and at this point BBC has no plans for a second series. I'd really suggest it for someone looking for a short series.

"The clean sleek creature arose from its fleece --- how perfectly like Aphrodite rising from the foam, should have been seen to be realized --- looking startled and shy at the loss of its garment, which lay on the floor in one soft cloud, united throughout, the portion visible being the inner surface only, which, never before exposed, was white as snow and without flaw or blemish of minutest kind." 

--- Thomas Hardy, the sheep-shearing, in "Far from the Madding Crowd."

Edit-Undo

It's amazing the number of people who walk through their lives as if there's an Edit-Undo button that can magically remove their particular stupidity from existence.

Yes, people, you need to think before you speak or act.

What I'm Watching

I changed the category in the left-hand column today from "What I'm Reading" to "What I'm Watching."

I suppose that this is a much more honest representation of how I --- and the public at large --- get my fill of fiction these days. Most of the things I actually read are short non-fiction pieces --- the largest share is media articles, along with short opinion pieces, message boards (I seriously limit my use of these). There's just no time for longer novels anymore. It's been the natural progression of the American attention span for quite some time.

But it's also because some television and movies can do so much more now. They can turn a rather dull tome of black on white into great pieces of drama and show. Creating whole worlds that had been impossible is now done with CGI to a high degree of quality. And there's now enough sources that one can pretty much be assured of finding something that grasps the mind.

Take, for example, the comic book industry. Post 9/11, it was really a dying art form. And now, there are several superhero movies released each year that are making tons of cash, as Marvel and DC are trying to resurrect their brands via Hollywood. Why pay for paper when there is reality, or something close to it? What really turned superhero movies from throwaway flicks into something like real art was Chris Nolan's "Batman Begins." It showed a gritty brand of reality without so much campy dialogue and cheeseball fight scenes.

But, anyway, I've been watching several series over the past several months. Usually I play an episode or two on my laptop which is propped up on the counter while I'm handwashing dishes, which makes that chore seem to go by a lot faster than just staring out the window, often at my reflection against the black contrast of night. I've gone through the current run of the British series "Doctor Who" and as the picture indicates, I am now starting "Breaking Bad" after a long time of hearing people talk about how good it is, and Bryan Cranston winning three consecutive Best Actor in a Drama in the Emmy Awards.

So there it is. My dirty secret. I'm not a very dedicated reader of the long form. I can do it if I have to, and I am committed to finishing Shakespeare, but there are so many other forms of media that are so much more accessible now. I'd hate to see this progression kill the novel, and I don't think it will --- to wit, sales of e-Readers are through the roof, and novels are often the source of this new media landscape. But the days of sitting propped up in bed paging through a hardcover are mostly over. Vive le difference!

Daffodil

Shakespeare's Sonnet 18

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to Time thou grow'st.
     So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
     So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

I caught the tail end of a Michael Wood "In Search of Shakespeare, Part III: The Duty of Poets" rebroadcast on PBS last week that has stuck in my craw. In it, Wood says that Sonnet 18 was written almost a year after the death of Shakespeare's son Hamnet at age 11. Shakespeare had, at best, a distant relationship with his family in Stratford as he made a living in London, and only heard the news after Hamnet was buried. I had never seen a date associated with the sonnets other than when they were first officially published in 1601, and the dates of the writing of the sonnets wasn't mentioned. But learning this detail of Shakespeare's personal history brings such new meaning to Sonnet 18, at least to my mind.

This sonnet has so often been used to describe romantic love that it's something of a meme. In my time at UConn, in Professor Manning's Shakespeare I course, he said that this sonnet was written for a patron and dedicated, most likely to a man named Henry Wriothesley, the Third Earl of Southampton. The first publication of the sonnets, by Thomas Thorpe, included a dedication to the "onlie begetter of these ensuing sonnets, Mr W.H." [sic] --- W.H. being an inverse of Wriothesley's initials. Adherents to this attribution say that the patron's identity was concealed because of the earl's subsequent part in a conspiracy against Elizabeth I, for which he was spared death for life imprisonment. Prof. Manning's lecture posited that some one of the Wriothesley family, perhaps even Henry himself, had paid a sum of money to host Shakespeare in 1597. And it was there that he wrote a series of sonnets about a "Fair Youth" --- ostensibly encouraging the earl-in-waiting, who was reportedly homosexual, to have children so his beauty would be passed down to future generations. Evidently, it worked and Southampton was married the next year and produced several children --- though it did not put an end to the earl's... how shall we say... extracurricular activities.

And indeed, this call to a living soul is a perfectly befitting reading of Sonnet 18 and that sonnet series. It is a wistful reminder that our lives are short and the lifespan follows a pattern much like the seasons. Like a flower must produce a seed in order for the original flower's beauty to continue, so must we have children to pass down our DNA. The sonnet reflects that as long as the sire's lineage continues, a part of his fairness --- in this case, specifically, the blond hair of the "Fair Youth" will always remain on the earth. And yet, Shakespeare acknowledges that sometimes features like blond hair are lost --- "every fair from fair sometime declines." Of course, we know now that the genes for blond hair are recessive and are masked in the presence of genes for darker hair in a recombination in offspring. In lieu of hard science, the poet's eye has a remarkable perception of nature given his time. Recombinant genetics combined with Darwin's theories really hit home the truth in "chance or nature's changing course."

But Shakespeare didn't just show up empty-handed at the Wriothesley estate. These lines were at least sketched beforehand. And in them, I can clearly see a father reminiscing about his departed son, his grasps at a deeper meaning, and a resolve to preserve his memory in the year since Hamnet's death. Some of the other sonnets in the series dwell on the word "sun" --- a homonym for "son" --- in a way that, to borrow a phrase from the Bard himself, "doth protest too much" for a man who was a master of double-meanings. While the sun is not directly worded here, it is described as "the eye of heaven" as a common descriptor.

Surely, the Elizabethan people were much more used to this situation of child mortality, but that doesn't mean it was easier to bear. Doubtless, even then, it caused degrees of depression, marital strain, questioning of religion and God, et cetera. Shakespeare was away in London during the illness, death and burial, and I suppose that may have both saved him some particular griefs in having to witness the details of passing, but also inspired others in the vein he wasn't there to see Hamnet or have a final word of parting with his son. With the line "... and often is his gold complexion dimmed," one can see a kind of struggle --- that, in an age where there were no photographs and portraiture was relatively rare, and with the passing of time, Hamnet's face and blond hair were becoming harder to accurately picture. The human brain is a kind of computer that does frequent massive memory dumps so we aren't overwhelmed by information, and it is true that the harder one tries to visualize the face of someone we know well, even, the details often escape us, leaving instead a dimmed impression.

Despite this struggle for visual recollection, Will is determined to remember and to have Hamnet be remembered. He is determined all the more by the dimming, I think. Having been in London and not seeing any stage of the death... in a strange way, the boy isn't terminally dead to Shakespeare. Will never actually saw him so. And so, the Fair Youth retains his fairness --- caught in a kind of mental limbo where he does not give back what he "ow'st," (in that time's sense that every person owes God a death in order to enter heaven), nor does he reside in the "shade" of the underworld. There is a poignant delivery in the last six lines, of the poet swearing that the memory of his son --- trapped forever in an "eternal summer" of age 11 --- will be alive on paper and on the lips of the reader, through the "eternal lines" (the lines of the sonnets) that his father has written. An eternal summer preserved by eternal lines.