It's all change, which I've always struggled with, according to loved ones. But, generally, much of it is good. I'm grateful for so much, particularly the ludicrous and unlikely publishing and career. But right now, I feel I'm barely keeping up, if at all. As I have said other places, I feel like everything is moving too fast for me, and I am merely standing still in the midst of it all.
It all puts me in a mind of Eddie Vedder's song, "Guaranteed" from his Into the Wild soundtrack.
Got a mind full of questions and a teacher in my soul.
So it goes.
Don't come closer or I'll have to go.
As I turn more pensive, pondering how soon I can work through revisions of my upcoming short story collection Fear Itself, whether I can return to revising my second horror novel, refreshed and reinvigorated, whether I can swing a short-story trade with my currently dormant Little Workshop of Horrors or Queer Speculations writers' group, I feel the need to revisit films that have inspired me, literary or otherwise.
Got a mind full of questions and a teacher in my soul.
So it goes.
Don't come closer or I'll have to go.
As I turn more pensive, pondering how soon I can work through revisions of my upcoming short story collection Fear Itself, whether I can return to revising my second horror novel, refreshed and reinvigorated, whether I can swing a short-story trade with my currently dormant Little Workshop of Horrors or Queer Speculations writers' group, I feel the need to revisit films that have inspired me, literary or otherwise.
Their uniting theme is expansiveness and, typically, travel. They're available somewhere, but I leave it to you, fair reader, to find them, wherever they are, in terms of entertainment platforms. Mine is not the role of the platform lister, but more of a guide, pointing anyone who wants to expand their horizons beyond simply escapist entertainment to quandaries of the human condition, to love, loss, tragedy. To inspiration. Maybe you have your own inspirational films. I would be happy to hear about those, too. Perhaps I've not seen them and they could open another new door for me. I like to think, also, that these films prove that the idea of the auteur's film is alive and well, but my argument admittedly has no basis, save that these movies seem earnest visions in these directors' capable hands.
Walter Salles' On the Road
I blogged an involved Sept. 26, 2013 review that you can find here about this stunning adaptation of Jack Kerouac's seminal 1957 Beat Generation novel, so I will not go very deeply into this film here. But I will say that Salles uses pivotal moments in protagonist Sal Paradise's life, moments that change him or give him pause, and posits that such moments inspired Kerouac to pen On the Road. Versions of these pivots appear in the book. So it's not a straight-up adaptation, but rather a depiction of "What-ifs?", scenes cut from the original draft for either purposes of length of legal reasons, and often debaucherous. In one such instance, Neal Cassady's fictional avatar has sexual escapades with a travelling salesman (played by the inimitable Steve Buscemi) in order to get him and Sal a lift. In the novel, Kerouac worked up such moments as scenes. For those familiar with the book, the Road film is a treasure trove of Easter eggs and nods and winks to the book. As well, for anyone thinking that Salles glorifies the male ego flinging itself fearlessly across America, it's also unflinchingly honest in how Kerouac, his buddy Neal Cassady and other Beat Writers mistreated the women around them. In this regard, Elizabeth Moss as Galatea Dunkel, giving the boys what-for, shreds a scene to bits. In this way, female characters confront this sexism and misogyny more than once in the film, which is ironically one better than Ti' Jean did in his Road book.
I blogged an involved Sept. 26, 2013 review that you can find here about this stunning adaptation of Jack Kerouac's seminal 1957 Beat Generation novel, so I will not go very deeply into this film here. But I will say that Salles uses pivotal moments in protagonist Sal Paradise's life, moments that change him or give him pause, and posits that such moments inspired Kerouac to pen On the Road. Versions of these pivots appear in the book. So it's not a straight-up adaptation, but rather a depiction of "What-ifs?", scenes cut from the original draft for either purposes of length of legal reasons, and often debaucherous. In one such instance, Neal Cassady's fictional avatar has sexual escapades with a travelling salesman (played by the inimitable Steve Buscemi) in order to get him and Sal a lift. In the novel, Kerouac worked up such moments as scenes. For those familiar with the book, the Road film is a treasure trove of Easter eggs and nods and winks to the book. As well, for anyone thinking that Salles glorifies the male ego flinging itself fearlessly across America, it's also unflinchingly honest in how Kerouac, his buddy Neal Cassady and other Beat Writers mistreated the women around them. In this regard, Elizabeth Moss as Galatea Dunkel, giving the boys what-for, shreds a scene to bits. In this way, female characters confront this sexism and misogyny more than once in the film, which is ironically one better than Ti' Jean did in his Road book.
Penn's directorial effort is also a controversial number. He adapted Jon Krakauer's 1996 novel of the same name, about real-life Christopher McCandless who decided one day to burn his wallet, I.D., money and all, and go live off the grid for three years. I don't think I'm spoiling much to say this leads eventually to a demise, so be forewarned. There are lush travelogue shots. Emile Hirsch's earnest portrayal as Alexander Supertramp, his self-appointed moniker, Minor roles from Vince Vaughn as a satellite-pirating, contract harvest company owner Wayne Westerberg, and Catherine Keener (another older female actor that I harbor quite the torch for) as Jan Burres in a failing, burned-out hippie love affair with Rainey (Brian H. Dierker as Rainey), all round out and bolster this cautionary tale. It's about freedom and the failure of rugged individualism and, possibly, mental illness that, were it treated, might have saved the protagonist's life. Eddie Vedder's soundtrack soars, his baritone intonations carrying viewers across sweeping American vistas and more secluded wilderness. Do you want to hear the story behind the music? Here it is. The story goes that director Sean Penn and pal Eddie sat through the rough cut of Penn's Into the Wild, and Penn asked Eddie, would he like to do the soundtrack? Eddie agreed, for which I am inordinately grateful. I like to think this yarn is true. These two uncompromising individuals, bucking the trends, defy the odds in both the film industry and music industry, just chilling in front of Penn's film. What a wonderful buddy-buddy image. While the movie remains a controversial choice because of the mental-illness question that remains unanswered, it is still undeniably a thing of beauty. Thank you, Sean and Eddie.
Chloé Zhao's Nomadland
Frances McDormand, as always, shines in this adaptation of the—you guessed it—book of the same name by Jessica Bruder. Seeing a pattern in my inspirational films yet? McDormand plays Fern, who loses everything due to the Great Recession, decides to live out of her vehicle, without a permanent residence. She is far from alone, and there many others with stories like hers in the nomadic movement. Fern follows paid work across the mid-west, allowing for not only sprawling western beauty, but also fascinating scenes of the interior of WalMart. The daunting, giant-machine shots contrast completely with the breathy, big-sky scenes of the west, many landmarks of which I recognize from my travels in and around Alberta. There's even a brave skinny-dipping scene, for which McDormand deserves kudos. She plays her age, sixty-ish, which is a blessing for a woman in an industry that brutally ages women out of work unless they play a nagging maternal figure or elder or perhaps a mature seductress, unless they are a Laura Dern or ... a Robin Wright. But I'm getting ahead of myself, here. Fern's restless wanderings have a root cause, revealed in time by director Chloé Zhao. Fern's mournful adventures utterly clash with a staid homestead scene where she has a verbal dust-up with vacuous realtors at an otherwise-friendly family barbecue. Nomadland is simply marvelous, deserving a second viewing. It's also a deeply sad tale, a skewering critique of capitalism and how some individuals decide to take, simply, another road, leaving the idea of a domicile or home behind and finding their own community. Other nomads give their background stories that galvanized their resolve to live on the road. These scenes appear genuine, as in stories narrated by real people, not actors, and are so much sadder and real for it. Unlike the saccharine-sweet pipe dream of the perfect house and white picket fence and orderly life, arguably the most successful con of capitalism ever perpetrated, these stories ring true. The nomad's journeys hew close to the bone, a testament to the human spirit, instead of the endless consumption of consumer goods, whether they be ideas, or physical products.
Robin Wright's Land
Robin Wright stunned me in Land. The parallels to Nomadland go further than the title, as protagonist Edee (Robin Wright) purchases a decidedly off-the-grid acreage of mountain land in Wyoming. The mountains just outside of Calgary, Alberta, double for the state, likely because of lower production costs across the board (again, all of which look marvelously familiar to a regular Alberta visitor such as myself). Like Frances McDormand's Fern, Edee is in mourning, the viewer learns, but about whom Wright reveals in a slow-burning trick. My main qualm with Land was that Eden might actually succeed, alone, in her rugged attempt to survive in a log cabin, without even the least survivalist or camping know-how. My qualm was proven unfounded, though, about a half-hour in. My policy is a no-spoiler one, though, and this a plot-pivoting surprise worth discovering for oneself. Wright appears to be an Amazonian force of nature (an inside joke; she played Princess Diana's mother in the Wonder Woman films), though, as beautiful as ever at her age, and an understated actor in her directorial debut. Some parts are hard to take, as grief figures largely in her motivations. Like Nomadland, it is wise to keep a box of tissues at hand. There's an ending that's a little too pat, but still respectful. The music they overplay a little in parts, scenes where the nature sounds should, in my opinion, be the sole soundtrack. But what Land says about grief, about coping with it, about what we can do, and why we are here and who we are meant to connect with, is profound. Wright's debut is a not only a success, but a success that has something important to say. Kudos to Wright.
Jean-Marc Vallée's Wild
It should be noted that the 2014 film Wild, directed by Jean-Marc Vallée and adapted from Cheryl Strayed's 2012 memoir Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail, starring Reese Witherspoon, is also superb. The indomitable Laura Dern portrays her mother Bobbi Grey in the flashback segments in this story of addiction, grief, and getting in way over one's head. In a surprising bit of casting, Bobbi Lindstrom, the real-life daughter of Cheryl Strayed, plays six-year-old Cheryl. Author Cheryl Strayed has a clear and loud cameo, too. In addition to the sweeping, panoramic nature scenes as in the above films, and a rather deft use of only nature sounds, Wild brings formidable purpose to Strayed's (initially, at least) foolhardy attempts at rugged hiking. As in Land, one might worry the protagonist is not up to snuff, and not worthy of making it to the other end of the trailhead. They would be right, at least at the outset. Told through regular story beats that lay plain why Strayed has thrown herself into this seemingly foolhardy adventure, the script fleshes out the mother character, Strayed's problematic relationship, her demons, each and every one, and even uncomfortably looks at male sexual predators along the way. In short, Wild has much to offer, despite CGI animals that may or may not be Strayed's spirit guides. More succinctly, Wild is like the novel On The Road but with a plot, and a deeper point. To wit—come to terms with your life and your grief instead of escaping into the heady kicks of debaucherous road-tripping. Witherspoon, an oft-underestimated actor early on, because of her ethereal blonde looks and sunny disposition, proves she more than has the chops to bring the viewer through her dark night of the soul. In fact, she and Dern are worth the price of admission, alone, guaranteed. Witherspoon carries the weight of the film on her shoulders, and each actor simply shimmers.
In closing, please do not take my word as the final verdict on these films. There's a lot to love and arguably a little to contend with in each. But get your head on and explore. I know I don't regret it and have a longing to re-watch each one of these, always proof-positive that a film has left a mark on you that you cannot shake off.
