As a subcategory of the horror genre, the exorcism film does not have the best reputation. For every The Exorcist, there are a dozen Posessed’s and Beyond the Door’s. Yet, when done well, there is rarely something as profoundly [...]
If there is a single academic that can be judged to have the most extensively permeated theories, it must be Sigmund Freud. Perched in an ivory seat of eminence in Vienna in the early 1900’s, his theories on sexuality and its effect on standard human behavior were famed as far as America, and his fervent followers counted among them doctors, academics and patients.
While Freud’s modern day reputation relies upon the diffusion of these theories in academia, the personalities of Freud and his colleagues has also become a great subject to discussion and interest. Freud is recognized to have been, among other things, a cocaine addict, an egotist, and stubbornly fixated on cores of his theories to which he would accept no compromise. He is known to have lost many of the great friends he forged through his work.
It is with one of these friendships that David Cronenberg’s A Dangerous Method occupies itself. On the eve of World War I, a young Carl Jung (Michael Fassbender) treats a hysterical patient, Sabina Spielrein (Keira Knightley) with the “talking cure” developed by Freud (Viggo Mortensen). As Jung’s theories advance, he struggles with Freud’s preoccupation with sexuality, with Spielrein’s representation of it, and his own resistance to indulgence.
The film is a tangled mess of conversation and minimal plot, where story advances with subtle slights and shifts of ideas rather than large events or broken dishes. The slow pace is paired with Cronenberg’s perfect intensity to create a precarious, exciting balance. Handsomely mirroring its subject, the blurred line between instinctual indulgence and societal restriction, the filmmaker has created a monster wearing a mask of human courtesy. From the beautiful trimmings of Jung’s well-fashioned house, to the brittle repartee between Freud and Jung in the book-lined studies of Vienna, we can feel something boiling in the background.
For perpetration of such a feeling, Cronenberg could not have cast two better actors as his male leads. In his third beneficial pairing with the director, Mortensen is incredible as Freud. Partially obscured by the theorist’s trademark beard, constantly puffing on a cigar, Mortensen plays his part with an understated intelligence and obstinant self-satisfaction. He simultaneously evokes genius and ignorance.
Knightley is certainly the weakest link among the performers in the film, but for all her visible straining it must be said that she far surpasses anything in her history. Particularly remarkable is her evocation of Sabina in hysteria, writhing and shuddering, forcing out an underbite that seems almost physically impossible.
What the film lacks in conventional plot, it makes up for in its writing. Based off Jon Kerr’s book A Most Dangerous Method with a script penned by Christopher Hampton, the dialogue doesn’t peddle to ignorants. The fact that the film does not dumb itself down is one of its greatest strengths; it is sweetly inflated, high on its own extraordinary intelligence. When Jung and Freud exchange theories, the viewer does not feel subject to an explanation, but rather witness to an intellectual discussion.
The result of this is that at times, it can be slightly too academic. It is imaginable that less interested viewers will find the film to drag at parts, when discussions heap on other discussions, and the talk of sexuality becomes greater than the actual sexuality in the film. However, for those with an interest in psychology, and terrifically intelligent movies, A Dangerous Method is not one to miss.
Rarely is a screenwriting debut so full of unique voice and character as Diablo Cody’s Juno, which opened to great critical praise and cult honorifics in 2007. Now, Cody’s pen brings us a darker, ironically more mature study of growing up in Young Adult.
If the title isn’t warning enough, this is not a piece exalting subtlety. Young Adult follows Mavis Gary (Charlize Theron), an explicitly childish and unfulfilled woman, visually described in a quiet, sluggish opening that frames Mavis on the gray backdrops of Minneapolis as she attempts the opening chapters of a young adult series she ghostwrites. Theron tinkers around the high rise apartment with a fragile grace, her eyeliner smeared, hair mussed, skin perfect. For a few moments, it feels like a clumsy scene stolen from Todd Haynes’ Safe, the obvious pathetic fallacy reflecting Mavis’s mute hollowness.
Then, Mavis discovers that her high school flame, Buddy Slade (Patrick Wilson), has had a baby. The film shifts gear and switches tone entirely as Mavis swivels her uncanny focus onto returning to her hometown of Mercury, Ohio, and reclaiming her soul mate, no matter the consequences.
It is in the process of this pursuit that the film finds its rhythm, largely due to the subtle genius of Patton Oswalt, who plays a crippled, “fat nerd” that knew Mavis in high school, and becomes an unlikely foil to her marginally sociopathic intent. Oswalt, famous for comedic turns on screen and a sharp standup routine, plays his part with a sweetly self-deprecating, puppyish affect. Acting against Theron’s Mavis, all hard angles under layers of mascara, Oswalt demonstrates a charmingly human, rancorous amusement. At times, the repertoire between the actors appears almost competitive; every quip drips with a threat of stealing the scene.
It is clear from these exchanges that the film’s most remarkable aspect rests in the performances. Where the humor is lackluster and the narrative arc lacks the conviction to hammer home any of its petty conclusions, Theron is a marvel. Having played serial killers and bubble gum popping teenagers, the actress is by now a seasoned champion on screen. Still, it is rare that we see her flexing so many acting muscles in one film. She is in one scene a coy, flirtatious princess, extraordinarily gorgeous and alluring. In another scene, she is pallid, picking at her hair, anxious, afraid. The issue, then, becomes that Theron is too big for the character. She brings a level of depth and profound insight into a role that is written like a character in a young adult novel.
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| Wilson shines as one-time dreamboat Buddy Slade. |
These performances may be partially due to the direction of Jason Reitman (Up in the Air, Juno), who is famous for eliciting great performances. But if we are crediting him for the performances, we must also acknowledge his part in the failures of the film. While individual attributes of the film may be delightful, they come together in a disappointing melting pot of discordant tone and jumpy mood. Where Juno successfully accomplished a humorous film with hints at darker themes, Young Adult gets bogged down in the melancholy. Too frequently, it slips back to the grey feeling of the opening. Add to this the manifold references to Mavis as a “crazy person,” her clear mental dissonance, and the disturbing scenes of her picking hair out of a spot on the back of her head, and the film simply is not funny. It’s sad. And scenes that try to jostle the viewer into laughter feel phony and uncomfortable.
In the end, Young Adult is an interesting treatment of the madness perpetrated by unfulfilled hopes and dreams, and the danger of selfish desire. Yet, Cody’s attempt at a more mature subject falls short; not surprisingly, the best lines of dialogue are the theatrical snippets that Mavis witnesses when she overhears teenage girls speaking. Perhaps Cody, like Mavis, isn’t quite ready to grow up. But maybe that isn’t the worst thing, after all.
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