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Sometimes a movie feels so real that it is very much like life, but more vivid. Every moment can be tasted, smelled, and run through the fingers. The shades of meaning are not lost on you the way they are in real life. Only sometimes in life, usually in retrospect, we can see what something meant, how innocent we were, or how nothing was ever the same. In the movies, though, we can see it all as it happens. Although everyone who watches a good movie sees it differently, watching it makes you feel like you have looked through the eyes of the All-Seeing.
That is the effect of watching In the Bedroom. The characters are interesting, but not because they are colorful or freakish. They are ordinary, but the camera skillfully disintegrates the veneer of ordinariness and shows the human within. The film provides a window into the personal lives of the characters, allowing the audience to look at strangers and know them as beautiful, terrible, conflicted, and fragile.
Todd Field directs this heartbreaking story about parents dealing with the death of their son. Through the son's death, we are taken within the bereft parents' life and grief. The feeling of grief plays so true to life in this film that anyone who has lost a close family member will recognize it. There is no swelling music, no straightforward progression from tension to release. That is not the reality of grief. Grief feels empty, and the actors in this movie understand that it is most powerful when understated. Sissy Spacek and Tom Wilkinson deliver excellent performances, not relying heavily on dialogue, but inviting the imagination of the viewer to explore the thoughts and feelings of the characters.
At points in the film, Hollywood formulae make an unwelcome appearance, particularly near the end. The psychological richness of the film almost makes up for it, but those points are disappointing nonetheless. The film feels a little too long at times, too, though the last minute or two of the film are arguably its most powerful. This is an engrossing psychological study of grief, draped over a skeletal and occasionally flawed plot, played out superbly in a small town in Maine.
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Personal musings:
Wilderness:
Dreams of living in the wild persist and change.
All
grown up: At
12 I looked like I was 20, at 24 I looked 15.
Altruism:
Can you ever repay the kindness of a stranger?
Photos
in a box: A package from my brother turned my memories of childhood
upside down.
Short
story long: How to lengthen a narrative in a few easy steps.
Writing:
Going the distance to find things to write about.
Neighbors:
An amazing account of urban generosity.
Snacking:
The angst of a healthy diet. |