Confessions of a Liberal Puritan

In a dramatic change from most of this summer, I've actually seen two movies within the past week (both at full price, unfortunately).

My Scrabble friend wrote her first Qualifying Exam last Friday and her second this past Tuesday, and so -- at her request -- I went out to dinner and a movie with her both evenings, to help her decompress and get ready to cram for her next exam (last one is tomorrow). So, I 'sucked it up' like a good friend and paid full evening prices for the films, and even let her pick the movies: The Manchurian Candidate on Friday, and The Village on Tuesday. (Yes, I'm expecting my beatification from the Vatican any day now.)

The Manchurian Candidate was interesting while it was happening (if a bit too grisly for my taste), but it didn't leave me with anything new to think about afterwards. [some spoilers follow]

I realized, as I was watching this remake, that I'd never seen the original film from the beginning (I think the earliest I'd tuned in when it was shown on television was the point where Raymond Shaw was getting reacquainted with the lovely daughter of his step-father's political opponent), so I can't compare the earliest parts of the two films.

I found it interesting to watch Meryl Streep playing a take-no-prisoners senator, but I'm still more scared of Angela Lansbury's character: her motives seemed much more doctrinaire, and therefore more sinister, whereas the way Streep's character was written suggested that her political activities were all in service of her unresolved Oedipal issues (idolizing her robber-baron father as the measure of all that a man should be, and striving to force her son into her ideal mold, regardless of his right to free will or desire to escape from an emotionally incestuous relationship). Streep's character ended up seeming a tad pathetic, almost, whereas Lansbury's was a terror to the end.

I thought it was interesting that they seemed to split the Frank Sinatra role between Denzel Washington's Capt. Marco and the lady Fed, near the end, whereas the "Raymond Shaw" part from the original was also split between Washington and Liev Schrieber. But I thought the final scenes of this remake was very anti-climatic, and not nearly as affecting as Frank Sinatra's variation on the Congressional Medal of Honor citation at the end.

The "current affairs" aspect of this film was also a bit of a let-down, as it didn't seem to add anything much to what we already seem to be accepting as a fait accompli in real life. (Gee, a Vice-President of the U.S.A. who's a wholly-owned pawn of a trans-national corporation . . . where have I heard that plot-line before? Michael Moore drew a much more intriguing and imaginative picture of suspected conspiracies in the highest seats of power in Fahrenheit 9/11, I thought, and at least Moore's goal was to encourage outrage and non-acceptance of corporate and political corruption.)

So, final verdict: a reasonably entertaining flick, but it left me feeling that the more complex and intriguing bits of the film had been left on the cutting-room floor, considering all the hints that were dropped along the way which were never, ever picked up on again in this version of the film. I really wish I hadn't paid full ticket price for this one.

The Village, however, was a different animal entirely.

I never got around to seeing Signs, but I quite admired The 6th Sense and I loved Unbreakable, and I didn't think The Village was as well-thought-out as Unbreakable or as emotionally realistic as The Sixth Sense. However, it certainly kept my interest and gave me much fodder for thought, afterwards. So, I don't regret my eight dollars, by any means.

I should preface my remarks by saying that at this Tuesday evening showing, what sounded like a large number of teenagers (male and female mixed together in smaller groups) came into the theater right at the end of the previews and sat giggling and whispering through the earliest parts of the movie. I got the impression from the expressive group seated directly behind me that these young people had come to be scared by this film (so the girls could shriek at the creepy monster moments and seek refuge in their boyfriends' embrace, presumably), so they giggled nervously at every word or deed that wasn't scary, regardless of how touching or unfunny it was meant to be.

This may have kept me from getting too emotionally invested in the film, from the beginning, since it's hard for even me to enter completely into the world of a film when the whispers and giggles keep reminding me that "it's just a movie" and turning my thoughts to analyzing the different ways people approach the viewing experience, etc., instead of wondering what's going to happen next.

But here are my observations, anyway. [some spoilers for The Village follow]

Both my Scrabble friend and I had some reservations, afterwards, about the aspects of the film and the characters' interaction (especially the William Hurt character's way of introducing his daughter Ivy to the Elders' deepest, darkest secret) which seemed more manipulative, calculated to keep the tension high rather than to portray a realistic, emotionally and rationally credible relationship between the characters.

On the other hand, I was very impressed by the character of Ivy, the blind young woman who dared to "run where the brave dare not go", for love of her man and her family and her village. My friend in Omaha, who is herself legally blind (not that she lets that slow her down, much, but it does mean she has to work a lot harder than sighted people doing the same professional job), was ecstatic when she called me last week, about the fact that FINALLY a blind woman got to be the undisputed hero of a major film. I just thought Ivy was incredibly likable and engaging, and very believable.

And, of course, afterwards, I couldn't help but note all the cultural and religious symbolism involved in Ivy's role in the village and her "hero's journey".

The last time I remember seeing Joaquin Phoenix in anything, he was playing the psycho emperor in The Gladiator, so I was surprised at how likable and multi-dimensional he was as the mostly-silent-but-not-unexpressive Lucius Hunt.

Okay, I have some more thoughts on boundaries, religion, and anthropology, and focusing fear on external threats (even if they must be invented) and the role of the 'differently abled' persons as boundary-crossers, etc., but it's getting late, and I had no lunch, so they'll have to wait for tomorrow.

To be continued . . .