Week 14, Legendary Children at Seattle Art Museum, featuring “The Migration Series” by Jacob Lawrence.
More after the jump!
:sirenemoji:COLOSSAL IS A MOVIE ABOUT DOMESTIC VIOLENCE:sirenemoji:
WHEW. I just had to say that out loud.
Professional (& largely male) reviewers will tell you it has twists they don’t want to spoil, and they might add that it’s gets dark (obviously, as our lead character is a blackout-level alcoholic, a thing you learn in literally the second scene), and maybe they’ll hint that it’s not the rom-com/kaiju romp the trailer apparently suggests.
This is all true, and also it’s true that it’s a movie about domestic violence, a fact that I was unprepared for and that left me super anxious some hours after the film had ended. (Related frustration: the fact that reviews frequently discussed Gloria as a manipulator, but never as a target for abuse. This is a natural result of the male-dominated world of film criticism.)
The summary that you all know is that Gloria (Anne Hathaway) comes home after one too many nights of binge drinking to find that her boyfriend (Dan Stevens) has packed her bags. Time for her to go. So she leaves the city, camps out in her abandoned family home, runs into a former classmate, now bar owner (Jason Sudeikis), who offers her a job & an immediate social circle of (obviously all dude) barflies.
It doesn’t take too long for the monster to appear, and refreshingly it also doesn’t take long for Gloria to figure out there’s a connection. And here’s where the abusive relationship comes in: a character discovers he has power. He enjoys this power. He wants to use it. He prevents her from leaving by threatening to do harm to others. He says it will be her fault if people are hurt. He hits her.
Like I said. This is a movie about domestic violence.
I spent most of Colossal wishing that Gloria had just one female friend. She’s surrounded by men – frankly smothered by men – so at the end of the film when she finally speaks with a woman I was incredibly relieved for her.
Now, of course there are reasons for her to be isolated, and I’d argue it’s an intentional failing of the Bechdel Test. We meet her as her boyfriend is breaking up with her, and once he’s left the apartment a carload of her so-called friends rush in, including several women. They all make themselves at home in the apartment, swirling behind and around her, but not interacting with her at all. These are not friends. These are people along for the ride as she crashes & burns.
Instead, she interacts with a series of Nice Guys, including particularly a character who sees her vulnerability and uses it. He’s a rom-com trope, the small town childhood friend, now all grown and ready to take care of you, sad rom-com heroine returning from the city.
But it’s not kindness to give an alcoholic a job at a bar. It’s not generosity to furnish her home when she doesn’t remember consenting (she excuses it as conversations from when she was drunk; I don’t believe the conversations ever happened.) It is not friendship to insist a person drink when they do not want to drink. And it is unsurprising when the friends of a Nice Guy do not stop any of these things from happening. This is how Nice Guys are enabled, when other Nice Guys sit around with their beers and do not call them out on their entitled, toxic shit.
A couple of other points:
Her ex-boyfriend also turns out to be his own variety of Nice Guy, the codependent wannabe savior Nice Guy. He’s the rom-com trope of White Knight, hoping to save you, but only so you can be trapped by him instead.
The film definitely felt long, which was a combination of my personal anxiety plus some repetitiveness, but I did adore the ending.
An element that going in I thought would be a larger issue for me is the fact that this is a white woman mindlessly causing destruction in Seoul. Obviously there are themes here that could have been better handled around the West’s lack of interest in consequences our actions have in the East, but it’s also true that Hathaway’s gut-wrenching performance makes clear that *any* death and damage at her hands is too much. (& as my kaiju-loving friend points out, a hallmark of those movies is wanton destruction of faceless civilians.) Could’ve been done better; was done better than I expected.
Week 9, “Rabbits” podcast.
More loves after the jump!
This month I kicked off #lastweekslove. Here’s how it works for me:
It came about because last year I only wrote about things that made me mad, so I wanted to try to focus on something positive once a week. Also, I have a tendency towards wallowing in comforting rewatches when the world is shit, so another goal was for me to seek out things I might love. So far so good! January’s picks after the jump.
Total: 222 (full list here)
Revival: 62 (of course, that does include The Room.)
…total of $572.35, giving us an average ticket price of $2.58. The cost of living keeps on a-rising.
(Previous years live under the year-end tag.)
Best film: Moonlight and The Fits, both of which deal with a particular experience, both of which focus on black youth, and both of which deal specifically with gender presentation and expectations. This pairing is a coincidence; they’re both here because they’re both terrific.
Also: Torrey Pines and Lemonade, because movies don’t have to be long, y’all.
The second time I saw The Handmaiden I wrote down the time it went most wrong for me. It was roughly 7:20, which is not bad for film with a 5:30 start time. The first time I saw it I hated the ending so much I struggled to remember anything I liked about the movie at all. So 7:20 is pretty good.
First off, the caveats. Of course it’s beautiful. The cast is terrific. The craft of the thing is exquisite for the first two thirds, and if you want to read a review dealing with any of that you can go literally anywhere else and straight men will be happy to tell you all about it. It is less violent (and definitely less darkly sexual) than I had expected from the trailer.
I am a fan of both the source novel* and the director, I am not the sort of person to demand slavish devotion in an adaptation (and I suspect as a fan of the novel I’m less blown away by the puzzle box of the narrative, since I already am familiar with it.) The film works well — except for sexual moments between the women — as long as it follows the source novel, but once it fully departs, it betrays their story and ends with full-on exploitation.