Book Review: "The Sound and the Fury", by William Faulkner

The Sound and the Fury (1929)

5 Stars out of 5

William Faulkner

326 pages (paperback)

“… when Father gave it (Grandfather’s watch) to me he said I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire; it's rather excruciatingly apt that you will use it to gain the reducto absurdum of all human experience which can fit your individual needs no better than it fitted his or his father's. I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you might forget it now and then for a moment and not spend all your breath trying to conquer it. Because no battle is ever won he said. They are not even fought. The field only reveals to man his own folly and despair, and victory is an illusion of philosophers and fools.”

Jason Compson III to Quentin Compson III (“The Sound and the Fury)

There are few novels more beautiful or more difficult to read than William Faulkner’s 1929 masterpiece, “The Sound and the Fury”. Borrowing the “stream of Consciousness” narrative form first introduced by James Joyce in 1922’s “Ulysses”, Faulkner will try the patience of almost every reader on their first foray into “The Sound and the Fury”. The book is split into four parts, each one narrated by a different member of the Compson family. The first part by the youngest, a mentally disabled child (Benjy) of the patriarch, Jason Compson, will flit from 1898 to 1910 to 1928 and back again practically with each new sentence; certainly with little pattern to time change. The second part will by the eldest child of Jason III, Quentin Compson III. Quentin despite being the oldest and the best educated of the Compson clan will just as Benjy jump from present to past to present in his thoughts and narration. The closing sections by Jason IV (the third child of Jason) in part 3 and an omniscient 3^rd person narrator for part 4 will be far more clear and linear, but just as surely far less insightful than the first two sections. These four narrators will seem to tell the Compson family story, with an apparent focus on the second child, Caddy (the only daughter). But as with all great works of art, the “The Sound and the Fury” is much more than merely its surface. This is a deep and thought provoking story that will stay in your imagination for years.

To help ground you, I will sketch the skeleton of the Compson family and their story. They are a formerly wealthy and influential family living in Jefferson Mississippi. The father is a cynical and world-weary man that simply cannot be bothered to care anymore about anything. His name is Jason Compson III. His incredibly self-centered and shallow wife is Caroline Compson nee Bascomb. When she is not complaining about one of her children acting out as if they were a Compson rather than a Bascomb, she is whining bitterly about how difficult her life (privileged as it is) has become. Her sole consolation in this world is her third child, the equally self-centered but far more bitter Jason IV. Her first child is Quentin III. He is accomplished, thoughtful and thoroughly damaged emotionally by the cynicism of his father. Quentin III’s only focus is his younger sister, the number two child, Candace or Caddy. Caddy like Quentin is an empathic soul, though her focus is on the fourth child the brain damaged Benjamin aka Benjy aka Maury. Benjy loves Caddy to a fault, understands virtually nothing. He is described at age 33 as having been 3 years old for 30 years. All of the children are nursed and cared for by an African-American nanny by the name of Dilsey – and beware, this book is filled to the brim with Southern word usage, including their most infamous, the N-word.

The best section of the book is the opening section narrated by Benjy. He was named Maury at birth for Caroline’s brother. But when it became clear that little Maury was brain-damaged, Caroline renamed him Benjamin; all in her lifelong efforts to “save” the Bascomb family reputation. Caroline makes it clear in later sections (and to some degree in this first section) that she would have been far happier to never have had Benjy. In stark contrast to Caroline is Caddy’s maternal care and love for Benjy, and his for her. Poor Benjy lives in a severely circumscribed world. He moves through “his” pasture as his personal version of the world. He is amazed and entranced in later years (after the pasture is sold to an adjacent golf club) as golfers or young women walk by. If he should find a golf ball, his day is made. However, it is the young women that walk by coupled with his complete lack of understanding about how to interact with anyone other than Caddy that is his downfall. He will reach out to one young girl, and will end up getting “gelded” to prevent any further such actions by him. One might have thought Caroline would have defended him to prevent such a sterilization, but one would be grossly inaccurate in such an assumption.

However, it is not only the content (as good as it is) that makes Benjy’s narration so noteworthy. Rather there is a kind of rhythm to his section that seems almost musical. For example, Faulkner adopts a specific type of style for each section of the book for the dialogs he records. In Benjy’s story, it passes something like the following: ….Father said, and then ….Caddy said; and this type of phrasing followed always by the character’s name and the word “said”. It becomes a kind of musical counterpoint to the dialog. Regardless of whatever is actually said, the reader can become fixated or even annoyed by the endless examples of “….XXX said”. But if you step back a little and think of it as a song with intentional repetitions, it brings a new meaning to the purpose of the words in Benjy’s recitation. It is not just that the words carry their intrinsic meanings, but they act somewhat like a drummer in a pop song as they set a beat to the story.

 In surely intentional contrast, Benjy’s narration is followed by Quentin III’s. Quentin’s speech has a poetic element of its own, but rather than one written for grade school kids, his is written for English literature post-graduate students. Quentin is far more troubled than Benjy. He lives in awe and disgust of his father. Jason III is a morally apathetic creature waiting to die. He will infuse his son Quentin III with a very mixed bag of ideals and philosophies; and they will in concert with Caddy’s behavior take Quentin down a path to an early and ultimately pointless death. Quentin’s thoughts and speech during the narrative are far more difficult to follow than Benjy’s. With Benjy, Faulkner provides “signposts” as to which Benjy is speaking: the 3 year old with Versh (part of the African-American staff’s family), the 12 year old Benjy with T.P. (again from the staff’s family), and finally with Dilsey’s grandson Luster when Benjy is 33. The reader must pay attention, but stream of consciousness or no, pairing Benjy with one of the staff allows the reader to properly gage the time frame. But with Quentin, no such sign posts exist. He obsesses over Caddy’s pregnancy and her pending marriage to a cad, Herbert the banker. He will shift mental gears to the present as he tries to help a young girl find her way home, to his worries about Harvard or some cynical bon mot from his father. These latter thoughts caught up as they are with Caddy’s situation will drive Quentin to utter distraction (and maybe the reader as well, as he or she tries to follow Quentin’s story).

The final two sections, the first by a true product of the union between a cynical father and a supremely self-centered mother (i.e. Jason IV) and the section largely about Dilsey’s point of view (though not with her voice) seem to serve no other purpose than to fill the gaps left by Benjy’s and Quentin’s narratives. And there are gaps to be filled. The four parts put together along with an epilog published by Faulkner of the Compson family genealogy create an image of a family (or perhaps of a culture, if we think symbolically) that has fallen from grace; far from grace. This is a book that can be enjoyed for the rich variety of characters that Faulkner so elegantly sketches for the reader, or perhaps for the completeness of his recitation of the various vernaculars and values from the Old South in early 20^th century America. Either approach to this book will lead to some enlightenment and enjoyment on the part of the reader. But I would suggest that the reader think to some degree in terms of symbols. Is Caddy’s loss of virginity a symbol for the loss of innocence (at least from a Southern point of view) that the South felt after losing the Civil War? Or does the ” fall from power and influence” that the Compson family experiences over the three generation detailed in this book express a harsher view of the South and its history?  Consider how those generations change: from wealthy and cynical Jason III to idealistic and depressed Quentin III to indifferent Quentin IV (Caddy’s daughter). Summarizing these characters with one or two modifiers does not do them justice, but it helps to build a road for the family’s change in fortunes – albeit a road to perdition.

This book appears as number 6 on the Modern Library 100 Best English-Language Novels of the 20^th Century. It is a hard read and after the first time through it (just like number 1, Joyce’s “Ulysses”), you might well ask yourself, why is it in the Top 100? It is hard; there is no doubt about that. But I suggest, read it a second time. I think you will find as I did, that is worth the effort. I think that you like me, conclude it definitely is one of the English-Language’s Top 10 books.

Movie Review: "Carol"

Carol (2015)

R

4.5 Stars out of 5

Director                                Todd Haynes
Writer                                   Phyllis Nagy (screenplay), Patricia Highsmith (novel)
Cinematography                 Edward Lachman
Music                                    Carter Burwell
Art Direction                        Jesse Rosenthal
Costume Design                  Sandy Powell
Set Decoration                    Heather Loeffler
Cate Blanchett                    Carol Aird
Rooney Mara                      Therese Belivet
Kyle Chandler                      Harge Aird
Sarah Paulson                      Abby Gerhard
Jake Lacey                            Richard Semco
John Magaro                       Dannie McElroy
Sadie Heim                          Rindy Aird

 "Now what happened with Therese…I wanted. And I will not deny it.”

Carol

The most notable thing about director Todd Haynes’ 2015 movie “Carol”, a movie about two women in love isn’t (surprisingly) the quality of the film, its six Oscar nominations, or even its topic of gay love in 1950’s America. No, its most amazing fact is that Hollywood didn’t want to produce the movie because it only featured two women leads. Perhaps even worse to certain corporate sensibilities was that these two women also refused to acknowledge any kind of guilt over their love as well refusing to focus their lives in any way towards a male character. For a movie that began development in 1997, that is in these enlightened days of letting people live the lives that they choose to live, to have the single most important fact delaying production for this story be that it featured two women and no men, is to me the most incredible part of the movie’s legacy.

The roots for “Carol” the movie began with Patricia Highsmith’s 1952 semi-autobiographical novel, “The Price of Salt”. In the novel, the older woman, Carol was seen exclusively through the eyes of a younger woman, Therese – the character standing in for Highsmith, herself. The movie screenplay written by longtime Highsmith friend, Phyllis Nagy sought to find a cinematic way of transferring the book’s use of Therese’s 1^st person narrative and obsessive view of Carol into film. Also important to Nagy was her desire to show that both women loved the other, and did so shamelessly. Nagy worked hard to not seek to make a political point of view; Nagy wanted the movie to be at its heart, simply a romance. Her screenplay does explain Carol’s marital situation and alludes to a previous liaison with another woman, Abby, but the details of how Carol comes to be the woman she is when she meets Therese for the first time is left largely unclear. In the book and to some degree in the movie, Carol is a kind of cipher, one that Therese has focused both her camera and her heart on. It is in the book a kind of one-way romance between a young woman and the object of her affection. The movie fleshes out Carol to be less of a cipher to help design a romance that flows in two directions – at least by the end of the movie.

“Carol” begins with the meeting between a young department store shop girl, Therese (Rooney Mara) and an elegantly dressed 40ish woman, Carol (Cate Blanchett). Carol is searching for a Christmas present for her five year old daughter Rindy (Sadie Heim). Carol will leave her gloves by “accident” at Therese’s checkout stand. Therese feeling something about her encounter with Carol, she is not sure what, will seek Carol out and return the gloves to her. In doing so, she will learn Carol is in the process of a divorce from her husband Harge (Kyle Chandler). (The names of the eastern rich always amazes me: Harge and Rindy, really? Who names their children such names?) In the ensuing days, Carol’s relationship to Harge deteriorates further, even as her attraction to Therese strengthens. After Harge threatens Carol with the loss of her access to Rindy, the two women will take a road trip together to help Carol ease the tension over her fraught situation. Their relationship will mature over the next week from tentative social probing to one of fiery passion. But when threatened by Harge with the complete loss of access to Rindy, the two women’s bond seem to wither for a while. But it is Hollywood, you know, so….

The key element of the screenplay is that these are two women that come to be deeply in love with one another. They don’t circle any man in an effort to find meaning to their lives. This point is made abundantly clear during a pre-trial meeting between Harge, Carol and their lawyers. Carol’s lawyer wants to fight Harge’s lawyer over some explicit tapes that exist of Carol and Therese. Both lawyers know that in 1950’s America, Carol will lose all her rights of access to Rindy if these tapes are used in their divorce trial. But Carol has had it with men arguing with her and over her, trying to make all her decisions; furthermore, she is not in any way ashamed of her love for Therese. Both of these points are important, but the latter is very much so. This is a story written about two gay women in 1950’s America that are not ashamed of their love. (So, maybe the story is a little political after all.)

That does not mean however that they can flaunt their relationship. The time frame of the Eisenhower Administration and the witch hunts of the House Un-American Activities Commission was surely chosen with care by Nagy and Highsmith. To be sure, Nagy wanted her screenplay to be true to the novel, but by using the 50’s, it also serves a second purpose by using a time in America when suspicion of the “other” and heightened paranoia in the general public was widespread. The effects of such attitudes would have been very intimidating for gay Americans. This aspect of the movie is made clear through the admirable work of cinematographer Edward Lachman and music director Carter Burwell. The most frequently (perhaps too frequently) used cinematic technique by Lachman on the subject of the 2^nd class citizenship of gay Americans is the window, most often a weather-coated car window. Therese is shown on several occasions staring with a wondering eye as she looks out at heterosexual couples walking on a sidewalk, out in the open and clearly in love. Such a simple privilege she knows that will never be hers. The metaphor of someone, a gay someone looking out at the rest of the world is both poetic and heartbreaking. These scenes as the car moves from left to right (always left to right for some reason) are filled with musical emotion from Burwell’s score that brings even more a sense of unsanctioned love. The score and camera-work align perfectly in this movie.

Other strong features of the film are the set design, costume and art direction. This movie’s sets range from Carol’s mansion in the suburbs, to Therese’s small apartment, to fancy hotels and dingy roadside motels. All are done to perfection in an effort to serve Haynes’ desire for 50’s American verisimilitude. Consistent with these trappings come some remarkable costume designs, most especially for Carol, but also in some cases for the other characters. For example, look carefully at how a minor character like Richard is diversely and fashionably attired; one would be forgiven for thinking him a clothes horse. Therese (a character that is written to be in the background with her shy and reluctant attitude) on the other hand wears simple dresses, without frills, always done in browns and taupe. This works well to visually push her towards the wall; the place where she presumes normally hides against. Her clothing will brighten some as her relationship with Carol matures, but not too much. My only criticism of the costume design is that it all looks completely new. This seems reasonable for a rich person like Carol, but is out of place for the poorer characters.

And finally, the premier reason to watch this movie is the direction of the acting of its two stars: Blanchett and Mara. As good as Mara is at playing a young woman in awe of her powerful and older lover, it is Blanchett’s performance that is overwhelming – it is simply stunning. It begins with the artful way she works her way into Therese’s life. But the best summary of how great, how nuanced is Blanchett’s acting (and the corresponding direction) is the closing scene: Therese stand unobserved by Carol in the middle of a restaurant; the camera plays across Carol as she talks to her dinner companions; after a moment she sees Therese; and a small smile slowly, surreptitiously (remember she is in the public) grows, but only just so much. It is incredible. There is never any doubt as to who is in control of the scene or the situation at the movie’s start, but by its end, there is no doubt that the issue of control has fled; what is left is simply two women in love.

This movie has a few flaws in the pacing during its middle reel, one or two too many uses of the window metaphor, and a few logical inconsistencies with the costumes, but they add up to little. Bottom line: go see this movie. It is a work of art.

Book Review: "When Breath Becomes Air" by Paul Kalanithi

When Breath Becomes Air (2016)

5 Stars out of 5

Paul Kalanithi

208 pages

“Even if I’m dying, until I actually die, I’m still living.”

“The main message of Jesus, I believed, is that mercy trumps justice every time.”

Paul Kalanithi

How does one approach the subject of death, especially when it is one’s own death? We all live with the knowledge that our day will come, but by not knowing the “when” of it, permits us to live a kind of fantasy that says, “Well, someday, but not today”, i.e. never. In the case of Stanford neurosurgeon resident, Paul Kalanithi, nearing the end of his multi-year training in medicine, it is a question that had gained vital urgency some twenty-two months previously when he learned that he had inoperable lung cancer. The manner in which Paul faced the question of "How to live a life of purpose" is a lesson for everyone. His journey from Chief Resident to patient is an example that one mightily hopes could be taught in med school, or indeed to the public at large. Everyone should read this book.

 Paul begins his book writing to a friend about the cancer with the fluid prose and gentle humor than infuses the book as a whole: 

 “The good news is that I’ve already outlived two Brontës, Keats and Stephen Crane. The bad news is that I haven’t written anything.”

By beginning the book in this manner, he is signaling to his readers several points that play a major role in who Paul Kalanithi is and was, a man with lofty ambitions, a man determined to live his life as long as he was living and also an allusion to his past as a student of literature; an alluded topic that would strongly inform his 2016 memoir “When Breath Becomes Air” and also provide a lovely segue to the opening sections of that memoir.

Paul began his life in Westchester NY as the second child to a successful cardiologist. Suddenly, or it must have seemed so to the youthful Paul, his father moved the family to Kingman AZ. It is hard to imagine two worlds further apart. And yet it provided Paul with an opportunity that he might have otherwise missed: homeschooling with his mother. Paul left behind the incredible school system in NY for what was essentially private tutoring in AZ. Paul refers in his memoir to the literature his mother encouraged him to read (to help him prepare for college) as the key component to his education. He became fascinated with how artists looked at the question of “what is the meaning of life and how one should live it”. He will go on to earn two B.A.s and a M.A. in literature at Stanford, and just for good measure a M.A. in philosophy at Cambridge before starting his medical training.

He started his training in literature and philosophy as he pursued his quest to understand better how one lives his life. As he neared the end of his artistic tenure at Stanford, he came to the conclusion that he needed to understand the “how” of the human mind, not just the “why”. He would return from Cambridge to earn his M.D. at Yale and to meet his wife to be, Lucy; she too would become a physician and would in fact finish his unfinished memoir. She would become an internist while Paul would train to become a neurosurgeon, both at Stanford.

Paul’s memoir’s reflection of life as a physician in training is interesting in its own right. Consider his description of life in his first day as an intern where during his rotation in OB/GYN he helped give birth to a pair of severely premature twin boys – two boys who would begin and end their short lives on the same day as Paul’s first day. It is a sobering moment in the book as the reader feels most acutely Paul’s empathy for his patients, and also how this tragic day for those twins’ parents aligns so well with the core message of this book’s discussion of life and death.

Paul will also describe how in his early years as a med student/intern he continued his struggle to understand the role of physician and the role of the patient in how we all view death:

“Death comes for all of us. For us, for our patients: it is our fate as living, breathing, metabolizing organisms. Most lives are lived with passivity toward death -- it's something that happens to you and those around you. But Jeff and I had trained for years to actively engage with death, to grapple with it, like Jacob with the angel, and, in so doing, to confront the meaning of a life. We had assumed an onerous yoke, that of mortal responsibility. Our patients' lives and identities may be in our hands, yet death always wins. Even if you are perfect, the world isn't. The secret is to know that the deck is stacked, that you will lose, that your hands or judgment will slip, and yet still struggle to win for your patients. You can't ever reach perfection, but you can believe in an asymptote toward which you are ceaselessly striving.”

These early parts of the memoir are all written from the vantage point of the caring physician, but that will all change once Paul is given his earth-shattering diagnosis of stage 4 lung cancer; his perspective changes radically. He will enter the same hospital and the same hospital rooms where days before he had led as chief resident, but this time as a patient. He will now be treated by attending physicians and nurses he knew as colleagues. He will also in time find out first-hand how mistakes are made as a young oncology resident mistakenly stops a drug than had been keeping Paul alive. He will survive that experience only to return to his immediate situation: he wants to live each day as anyone would, but how many does he have; he knows it is few, but just how few?

“Grand illnesses are supposed to be life-clarifying. Instead, I knew I was going to die—but I’d known that before. My state of knowledge was the same, but my ability to make lunch plans had been shot to hell. The way forward would seem obvious, if only I knew how many months or years I had left. Tell me three months, I’d spend time with family. Tell me one year, I’d write a book. Give me ten years, I’d get back to treating diseases. The truth that you live one day at a time didn’t help: What was I supposed to do with that day?”

That Paul was a polymath, someone brilliant in his multiple fields of literature, philosophy and medicine plays a terribly important role in this book. This is not just an average Joe looking death in the eye, but a man who had and still lived to his final day a fully examined life. His academic achievements underscore this point, but it is this incredible elegiac book that makes the point all so clearly. His wife will provide an epilog that comes with her own narrative flow, but one that is consistent with that of Paul’s. The book also comes with a forward from a fellow Stanford physician Abraham Verghese. I do not deny Dr. Verghese’s writing talents or his enthusiasm for Paul’s work, but the tone of his forward felt awkwardly out of place with the book that follows. My opinion is to skip the forward and read the book and epilog first, and then return to the forward. It will be less tonally jarring. But however you decide to read this book, I strongly recommend that you do so. It may be the best book you read from 2016.

Below is a picture of Paul, his wife Lucy and the daughter Cady they conceived after he knew he was to die. Their discussion on this point is heartbreaking and enlightening and the same time.

Movie Review: "The Danish Girl"

The Danish Girl (2015)

R

3.5 Stars out of 5

Director                                Tom Hooper
Writer                                   Lucinda Coxon (screenplay), David Ebershoff (novel)
Cinematography                 Danny Cohen
Music                                    Alexandre Desplat

Alicia Vikander                   Gerda Wegener
Eddie Redmayne                Einar Wegener/Lilli Elbe
Amber Heard                      Ulla
Ben Whishaw                     Henrik Sandahl
Matthias Shoenaerts        Hans Axgil
Sebastian Koch                  Dr. Kurt Warnekros

 

“You’re not like other girls.”

Henrik to Lilli

 There is something wrong about “The Danish Girl”, and this is meant as a double entendre. Director Tom Hooper and screenplay writer Lucinda Coxon have created a film that luxuriates in its visual imagery; imagery brought to startling visualization on the screen by cinematographer Danny Cohen. When these images are merged with the brilliant score by the incredibly talented Alexandre Desplat, the overall result is a beautiful, moody portrait of the city- and landscapes of Copenhagen and the fjords of Denmark. The beauty of the scenery and the music is simply undeniable. So, what is the problem? Like the confused sexual identity of Einar Wegener (Eddie Redmayne), the outside does not line up at all well with the interior. Within the masculine body of Einar beats the heart of a woman. Just so, within the beautiful exterior of “The Danish Girl’s” landscapes beats the tormented heart of a different story.

The story of Lilli Elbe begins in 1926 Copenhagen where Einar Wegener is a successful landscape artist and his artist wife, Gerda (Alicia Vikander) is a frustrated portraitist. Gerda is frustrated because many around her applaud her skill, but decry her subject material. Portraits are not in demand in 1920’s Copenhagen. In the early stages of the film, as Hooper works to help his audience learn who Einar and Gerda are, how they love one another, respect one another’s skills, he will also play with a couple of cinematic techniques to elicit a sense of touch, feel and look. Multiple scenes are displayed showing Einar as he runs his hands along a row of dresses, caresses the feel of lace, or stares intently as Gerda removes her silk stockings. Einar’s world is one of barely suppressed longing. In the relaxed pace of this movie, it will soon become clear that Einar does not know exactly what it is he longs for, though he will shortly thereafter finally discern what it is. But this is also Tom Hooper’s world and he really wants the viewer to “sense” it.

Ulla (Amber Heard), a cocky ballerina is Gerda’s normal model for a series of paintings Gerda is working on; a ballet theme – one more attempt to escape the world of unpopular portraits. Rushing to complete a deadline and lacking Ulla to work with as her model, Gerda asks Einar to pose in her place. At first it is only a stocking drawn up and over his hairy leg and a barely fitting ballet slipper; then it is Ulla’s ballet gown draped across his tense and uncomfortable torso. He is embarrassed, especially so when Ulla enters unexpectedly and makes a small joke at Einar’s expense. His tension is soon displaced as Einar looks down his gown-draped body. This scene may disconcert the movie’s audience but it is clearly a comforting acceptance to Einar. This gradual tease and acceptance will anticipate a broader and fuller transition for Einar. The acme of this change will come at a reception Gerda wants Einar to attend. He hates such affairs, but when Gerda displaying her own mixed feelings on the topic, asks Einar to go to a reception dressed as a woman, he quickly agrees. Einar will attend as his own female cousin, Lilli (a name made up on the spot for the made up cousin). At the reception, Einar doing his best impersonation of Lilli will clearly be uncomfortable for a while, but then he meets Henrik (Ben Whishaw), Einar will fade from control as Lilli takes over, no longer an impersonation. Lilli and Hendrik will converse; and Einar will begin his irreversible move from Einar to Lilli.

As Lilli becomes the more dominant participant in the Einar/Lilli character, her emergence will be facilitated by Gerda as she begins to paint Lilli, and these new paintings become a commercial, if not artistic sensation for Gerda. Again Gerda’s mixed emotions and motivations in her evolving relationship with Einar/Lilli will play a significant role in the forward movement of the plot. Gerda will become the breadwinner for the Wegener family, and Lilli now increasingly in control of Einar-Lilli will begin a kind of role reversal as she leaves financial considerations to Gerda. Lilli will begin to focus on herself from a visual sense that jives with her internal view. Such a change was not anticipated by Gerda. It was convenient for her career’s sake (she now has the missing subject material for her painting), but catastrophic for her marriage. The tension will mount. Einar will seek medical help, but in the late twenties, no such help really exists.

Einar and Gerda will bring in a childhood friend of Einar’s, Hans (Mathias Schoenaert) to help in what way he can. His help becomes confused as Einar recedes, and Gerda becomes isolated in a marital sense. In time a German doctor, Dr. Kurt Warenkros will be found. He will prove (to some extent) to be the surgical solution for the now thoroughly Lillified Lilli/Einar. He will warn Lilli and Gerda of the dangers Lilli faces, but they will nevertheless proceed. Part of the reason they will do so, is due to the medieval state of psychological help that was present at the time for Einar/Lilli. One doctor will go so far as to threaten incarceration after having diagnosed Einar as schizophrenic.

And this last point is the other major problem I have with the film: the conflation of sexual dysphoria with dissociative identity disorder (aka the split personality aspect of psychotic schizophrenia). Is it typical of persons with sexual dysphoria to suffer from DID? If so, I was not aware of it. And if not so, does this movie do those with sexual dysphoria by depicting it in the manner in which it depicted in this movie a disservice? Possibly the actual Lilli had DID, and the movie is staying true to the truth; or possibly it is a cinematic metaphor that Hooper wants to employ to somehow make sexual dysphoria more understandable to the public. Perhaps, but I find either explanation plus the distraction of the many, many landscape scenes throughout the movie to only be distractions. I get that the cinematography is beautiful and is a kind of metaphor for the inner Lilli, as well as a reference to the painting occupations of Gerda and Einar, but to me it becomes an intolerable distraction from the movie’s central story: Einar’s transition and his torment throughout the process to Lilli.

That being said, this is a beautifully and remarkably filmed movie. The landscape scenes do appear to be masterpieces. Coupled to the exterior shots of scenery, Hooper films many of the interior shots in Einar’s and Gerda’s apartment in Copenhagen – a room evidently designed by someone in love with geometry; straight lines intersecting in a perpendicular manner with other straight lines. All of the shots from within their apartment or in the local ballet studio that show Einar staring through large number of tutu’s as he speaks to Ulla could be an introductory course in mis en scene. Added to these shots is my favorite from the movie: Hendrik lives on a street of bright yellow row houses, on a road that seems to go to infinity. Lilli will walk down and then back up this street after her clandestine meeting with Hendrik. She will be initially sure of herself, then only confused. Does the infinitude of the street serve to underscore her mood, or does it merely serve to demonstrate to the audience Hooper’s eye for the visual; sadly, as much as I loved the shot, I feel it is the latter.

Again, this is a beautiful looking, beautiful sounding and beautifully acted movie. Besides the incredible visual and musical components to this film, the acting of Vikander and Redmayne are alone reasons enough to see this movie. I believe the typical movie-goer will have their senses delighted, will learn some of the pain that afflicts the sexual dysphoric, but also I think will have missed a fuller picture (and again I use that word with intention) of how Einar/ Lilli felt, or how any of her modern contemporaries felt. I think Hooper loves and respects the subject of his movie, but I also think he loves more the visual component of his story than the interior. See it for yourself, for it is worth seeing, but I think you should wonder a little at whether Lillie’s story is as foremost in this movie as the landscape. I felt as if she as a character faded back into the picture Hooper sought to draw; she became immersed in his landscape as she once was within Einar’s.

Movie Review: "Concussion"

Concussion (2015)

PG-13

3.5 Stars out of 5

Director                                Peter Landesman
Writer                                   Peter Landesman (screenplay), Jeanne Marie Laskas (GQ Article)
Cinematography                 Salvatore Totino
Editing                                  William Goldenberg

Will Smith                            Dr. Bennet Omalu
Alec Baldwin                       Dr. Julian Bailes
Albert Brooks                      Dr. Cyril Wecht
Gugu Mbatha-Raw             Prema Mutiso

David Morse                       “Iron” Mike Webster
Luke Wilson                        Roger Goodell
Matthew Willig                  Justin Strzelczyk

 

“Finishing the game is the same as winning the game.”

Mike Webster

“You think you’re being a good American. The NFL owns a day the week, the same one once owned by the Church.”

Dr. Wecht to Dr. Omalu

There was an excellent movie in 1999, “The Insider” (from the always brilliant writer/director Michael Mann). It is in fact one my Top Ten Movies from the past 25 years. The critics loved it, the public, not so much. What it did so well and what “Concussion” largely fails to do, is to build real tension within its story of a major American industry’s efforts to kill the science being used to discredit the products sold by that industry. The product in question in “The Insider” was tobacco; pretty clearly a villain to most Americans in 2016. This was most definitely not the case throughout most of the 20^th century. Mann did not leave his kid gloves on with his film as he excoriates “Big Tobacco”. The product in question in “Concussion” is NFL football. And if tobacco products were easily seen as a villain by many Americans, even before they were proven to be so, this is definitely not the case with America’s most popular professional sporting event. Writer/director Peter Landesman knows the popularity of football and the financial reach of the NFL, and as such his movie (likely with some nudging from corporate parent Sony Pictures – according to leaked internal memos) does leave his kid gloves on as he tries to take a somewhat evenhanded approach to the now proven link between concussions sustained while playing football and high rates of dementia amongst their retired player veterans.

“Concussion” was inspired by a September 14 2009 GQ article by Jeanne Marie Laskas, “Bennet Omalu, Concussions and the NFL”. It is a hard hitting article that pulls no punches. Landesman’s movie discusses much of what is wrong with how the NFL reacted to Omalu’s report on the effects of concussions as detailed in the article, but struggles to find a dramatic arc to the story. The story begins with a moving portrayal by David Morse of retired Pittsburg Steeler’s center, “Iron” Mike Webster. Webster is giving a speech following an award ceremony in his honor. Webster reels slightly, he seems to speak with some difficulty and to stand up straight. There is a sense that something is amiss, but it is not clear what that something is.

The film then turns to an unrelated trial where we meet Dr. Bennet Omalu (Will Smith). He is a forensic pathologist in the Allegheny County Coroner’s office and is at the trial on behalf of the accused. He is faced with some skepticism from the district attorney about Omalu’s credentials. Omalu quickly disabuses the DA’s concern over Omalu’s medical credibility via a long list of medical degrees and fellowships. Was Omalu’s competency questioned due to his race or thick Nigerian accent? It is not clear, but it is a theme that will be repeated throughout the movie: people will automatically discount him from Dr. Omalu to Mr. Omalu, and amongst his medical colleagues, his scientific acumen will often be discounted from scientist to merely “someone working in the county coroner’s office”. The movie will take pains to make this point of barely suppressed racism.

The movie will also in this first scene with Omalu make a mistake that will carry on throughout the movie with many examples. In this case, the viewer is teased with the knowledge that Omalu may have brought forth via his training and genius facts that would reverse the verdict against the accused, but the viewer will never know. The story is introduced, but dropped without resolution. The film has many examples of errors that I will loosely categorize as continuity mistakes. Two more big ones include a loss of a sense of the passage of time to the viewer, and a very sloppy introduction of minor actors. That is to say, how much time has passed during the film’s progression, is it months or years; it is far from clear. And who are the various members in the NFL cast of characters? We see them grimace and say rude things about Omalu, but are they minor actors within the NFL or major ones? Again, the viewer will be very hard pressed to puzzle most of them out.

As the movie progresses, we see Webster’s condition deteriorate. It is heartbreaking. If the viewer thinks about Webster at 25 or any of his colleagues, they were among America’s most fit, most athletic citizens. Then they retire in their 30’s, and by the time they are in their 50’s, they are decrepit or mad or both. To watch how Webster and the others (the movie will show in minor detail several more) as their mental and physical conditions worsen, is truly shocking. Has the movie exaggerated these situations? Google San Diego Charger Junior Seau’s death in 2012 to review a case that is not in the movie, but is very compelling on the effects of multiple concussions. You will be persuaded of the danger that awaits many retired NFL players.

At Webster’s death, Omalu will find a problem he cannot readily explain. He sees it as his duty to the deceased and their families to find an explanation. How did someone at 50 go mad when there were no physiological, anatomical or historical evidence for it? Omalu will with the support of the coroner, Dr. Cyril Wecht (a somewhat serious Albert Brooks) begin an investigation that he will pay for with his own money. Wecht will support him politically, as will a couple more, but for the most part, Omalu will be running alone a gauntlet to get the investigation done, published, and most significantly understood by the NFL and American public.

Omalu will find microscopic tears in the neuronal cells of the Webster’s brain. He will name them Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy or CTE; they cannot be found via medical imaging such CT scans. Omalu will theorize their origin is related to how the human brain is untethered in the skull, and as such can move with great force into the interior wall of the skull during a collision. He will eventually write a peer-reviewed paper with Dr. Wecht and local Neurologist Guru, Dr. Steve Dekosky. As with others within the medical world, it was a struggle for Omalu to get Dekosky attention, let alone his respect. But the data was irrefutable, and the paper written. Part of Omalu’s argument used to persuade DeKosky was a comparison of various animal species that can withstand repeated head collisions (e.g. woodpecker or male rams). Omalu noted that a concussion can occur at 60G’s and that a typical head to head football collision is roughly 100G’s. He concluded with his calculations that Webster had suffered some 70,000 such collisions from the time he started as a child player to his last day as a Pro player.

These arguments are persuasive to anyone willing to listen. They should have been more than sufficient to at least get meetings with the NFL to discuss them. Poor Dr. Omalu did not understand the priorities of the NFL. Little did he know that player safety was a very distant second to profits. Omalu’s paper will begin a program of denial and professional disgrace that the NFL will direct towards Omalu and Wecht. Had one more player in this drama not entered the story, Omalu’s research may well have been buried and forgotten until the next scientist with the right about of curiosity, ability and integrity chose to investigate it. In this case, a new medical doctor comes onto the scene, Dr. Julian Bailes (well played by Alec Baldwin).

Bailes is the former team-doctor to the Steelers and someone who consider Mike Webster a friend as much as a patient. Bailes had opportunity to personally watch Webster’s descent into madness. He also carried a burden of guilt. This guilt stemmed from his days as the team’s doctor where he would do everything he could to get a player back into the game as quickly as possible, no matter the consequences. Bailes will lend his credibility and NFL connections to Omalu’s efforts. This will result in a summit called by the NFL’s commissioner, Roger Goodell (Luke Wilson). Omalu will not be allowed to speak, but Bailes will. Omalu is frustrated and humiliated. But in the end, the result is the same as if he had spoken, the NFL will publically conclude that there is no connection between football and concussions, let alone the madness and the CTE Omalu’s research had identified.

What will cause a sea change within the NFL or at least within the players and their union is the growing number of suicides and insane behavior in their retired players. It will raise eyebrows when Justin Strzelczyk (Matthew Willig) drives his car into oncoming traffic, but it is the suicide death by a gunshot to the head by NFL insider Dave Duerson that gets the most attention. Duerson was not only a retired player but had in fact begun to mount a campaign for mayor. Like other NFL insiders, he chose to ignore the evidence and instead focused his ire at Omalu over the losses he imagined would come if the NFL were constrained in some manner. He like others assumed there was only one path forward, no change to current NFL policies; any other path would lead to corporate death. When his own life became threatened by CTE, when he could no longer assuredly control his anger, when he recognized he was a threat to his family, he finally decided the wealth he personally gained from his association with the NFL was too high a price to pay. Just like so many other examples in life, one more man whose decisions in life had been guided by his pocketbook, will too late realize that his life and that of his family faced greater dangers by decisions made solely on the basis of greed than by making decision on the evidence brought forth by science.

As I write above, there is much to admire about “Concussion” and unfortunately a number of things to decry. The acting by Smith and Baldwin is first rate; it is a major pity, Smith was not nominated for an Oscar as Best Actor (his curious Nigerian accent notwithstanding). The best scene in the movie is one by a river where Omalu is re-assured by his wife Prema (Gugu Mbatha-Raw); her role is generally understated, but she provides reassurance to Omalu throughout the movie; most especially in this scene. The editing is also quite good. There are several storylines that must be melded seamlessly in order to create a unified whole, and film editor William Goldenberg does a very good job of it. The direction by Peter Landesman coupled with the cinematography by Salvatore Totino capture in slow motion a kind of grace in the various plays of football. It is the writing and the possible political motivations behind it to tone down the accusations against the NFL where this movie disappoints. With respect to the science, there is virtually none shown or explained. We briefly see a microscopic view of a torn neuron, but no explanation to speak of; even the pitch made by Omalu to Dekosky focuses on the animal parallels of head butts. Given so little real science as presented in this movie, it is no wonder, that the NFL was unconvinced.

The final scenes of this movie are where it is both successful and a disappointment. On the one hand, the closing graphics tell us that 28% of all NFL players will have CTEs and that the NFL settled some 5000 player originated lawsuits over concussions with the stipulation that no admission of a connection between concussion and player injury be made. Sounds pretty conclusive, right? And yet when the writer/director and studio had a good opportunity to show a picture of what was at stake, they pulled back. This final image is of two twelve year olds playing football. They launch themselves at one another; their heads are aimed for a horrific, but all too common collision. The film ends without the collision. There may well be reasons not to have staged this hit with actual actors, I understand the need for safety (and wish the NFL did so too). But it feels like a kind of cinematic cop out. It reminds me of the half steps this movie takes in truly taking on the NFL. I came away partly shocked by this movie’s revelations, but mostly with the conviction that either the NFL got to Sony, or Sony was too afraid to go after them and their constituency.

Bottom-line: this movie is watchable, but far from a great expose of a problem that in all probability affects every child in America playing football. A nice aspect of the movie is watching an immigrant with such a love for America that he will state at one point, “America is where God sent his favorite people”; it is a thought provoking moment that stands in contrast to the NFL’s greed. But if you want to see a truly great expose of Big Business burying the science that exposes their unscrupulous malfeasance, go see “The Insider”.