"Better a fallen rocket than never a burst of light."
~ Tom Stoppard, The Invention of Love
Showing posts with label The Wife. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Wife. Show all posts

Monday, March 4, 2019

Further Thoughts on The Wife

In my review for The Wife, I only touched briefly on the flashbacks (mostly just to say that they were great,) but I want to revisit them today.  For me, they add so much to the story, to understanding the characters and their dynamic.  There’s just one in particular that I’m going to look at here, but watching the film, it knocked me out (spoilers.)

One of the most defining scenes in the movie for me is in an early flashback, when Joan is sitting in Joe’s class as he describes what an author is.  It’s much the usual “heart of a creative” type stuff, “I write because I must, writing is in my soul,” that sort of thing.  That right there shows us something about Joe off the bat:  his best ideas aren’t original.  In this same scene, we get our first sighting of his go-to charm-the-ladies-with-prose line, and it’s not even his.  When he wants a woman to sigh, he consistently uses the same James Joyce quote, and when he wants to impress his students, he uses the same flowery description of creative work that countless artists have used before him.

But here’s something else this scene tells us about Joe.  Sure, his speech is basic, but it works, and he knows that.  He has those students eating out of the palm of his hand, including Joan, and she has more creative talent than he ever will.  Just like that James Joyce line keeps paying off for him, Joe’s big achievement is creating the story of his life.  This portrait of himself, first as a soulful professor and then as a brilliant author, has been so manufactured, and when you see him telling his stupid anecdotes at Nobel functions later in the movie, it all seems so transparent and pathetic, but he still gets results with it!  Watching Joan watch him captivate a room, it just turns my stomach.  But that’s what Joe’s good at, and that’s why he gets away with masquerading as the literary genius for so long.  The strings are there, obvious for all to see, but he makes people believe it anyway.

Another interesting note about this little speech is that, for all its poetry, it lacks real-world application.  When Joe introduces Joan to authoress Elaine Mozell in another flashback, the older woman almost instantly tries to discourage Joan from pursuing a career as a writer.  She points to her own work, sitting on the alumni shelf where it’s never been opened, and when Joan offers her Joe’s “a writer must write” sentiment, Elaine counters, “No, honey:  a writer must be read.”  And in Elaine’s experience, ground down by publishers and critics who refuse to take her seriously because of her gender, that noble idea doesn’t mean much when the gatekeepers are never even going to give you a chance to prove your worth to them.  (Obviously, there have been many female authors across the years who’ve defied those gatekeepers, but they’re still there – would Joe’s books be as hailed for their brilliance if Joan’s name was rightly on them?)

But getting back to the classroom scene, what really pulls me in is Joe’s unfaltering use of male pronouns.  He writes because he must,” and so forth, over the course of a speech that probably goes on for more than a minute.  Seeing it, I was instantly reminded of the opening scene of On the Basis of Sex, in which the dean welcomes the new law students with a speech asking, “What makes a Harvard man?”  In both, you feel the presumptuous sexism smack you in the face, but it’s even more egregious in The Wife.  With On the Basis of Sex, there are nine female students in a sea of men.  Here, Joe’s entire class is female, and he doesn’t think anything of repeatedly referring to his proverbial author as “he.”  Yes, this shows the dismissiveness, the way sexism permeates everything, but it also shows us one more important thing about Joe.  Here, in this scene, speaking about writing in front of his all-female writing students, he never once thinks of them as writers, or even potential writers.  This speech, this lecture, isn’t about them at all.  It’s about him, returning to the “soulful professor” portrait.  Although he’ll gladly critique their work and tell them what’s wrong with it, he’s not there to teach them.  This whole thing is in service of his image, this ideal he wants to instill in them of their teacher as a tortured artist who writes because he cannot choose not to.  That is Joe all over, and it’s just vile.

Tuesday, February 12, 2019

The Wife (2018, R)


Let me get this out of the way immediately:  I loved this movie.  I got it as a DVD rental from Netflix, and I thought the story was just extraordinary.  I was drawn in the whole time, the performances are wonderful (Glenn Close, obviously, but everyone else is also great,) and I’m still turning it over in my head.

For nearly 40 years, Joan has been “the woman behind the man,” the wife of celebrated literary genius Joe.  When Joe wins the Nobel Prize for literature, he and Joan (and their adult son David) fly to Stockholm together for the ceremony, and over the course of several days – filled with fawning functions, Joe’s charm-the-room anecdoctes, and Joan being the wife on Joe’s arm to be trotted out for introductions – the fundamental condition of their relationship and Joe’s career comes to a boiling point. 

Really fascinating.  I’ve never read the book this film is based on, never even heard of it before seeing this movie, but now I really want to read it.  The way the lives of the characters are revealed gradually, between the present-day scenes and a series of flashbacks from early in Joe and Joan’s relationship, is done so deftly.  There’s a whole ecosystem of complicated emotion tangled up within this family, and I love digging through it.  The story takes us in interesting directions, some of which I didn’t see coming.

As I was watching Close’s excellent performance as Joan in this movie, a certain phrase came to mind, “life of quiet desperation,” and as I thought it, it occurred to me that the vast majority of fictional characters who make me think of this phrase are female.  Interesting, when the full quote from Henry David Thoreau refers to “the mass of men.”  But there’s something in that phrase that resonates so strongly in me with a number of female characters, the ones who’ve always occupied the places they’re “supposed to,” following the rules but finding that it brings them no contentment or fulfillment, no security, no promised reward for the dutiful wife and devoted mother.

Joan fits into this space for me, but in a way that I don’t often see.  The restlessness is there, and the discontentment.  You see it in the way Joan makes eye contact with another “wife” in the room as a group of Nobel winners are rubbing elbows together, in her posture every time Joe beckons her from across the room to be presented to another Someone Important.  But she’s at the same time so composed, so pragmatic, so without rancor.  Multiple times during the film, someone offers her the bait and she doesn’t take it.  She’s like a Cheshire cat of repressed female rage, smiling and demurring whenever anyone tries to get her to acknowledge the bullshit that’s clearly all around her, that she herself fully recognizes (give her a little credit, thank you very much) but refuses to give voice to.  Again, my go-to word is “fascinating.”

Undoubtedly, it’s 100% Close’s show, and I see why she’s the one who’s pulled ahead in the Lead Actress race (side note:  while I’m guessing she’s got the award in the bag at this point, this is another film where I wish it was even more recognized than that very well-deserved nomination.)  But as I said, the other actors do fine work as well.  Jonathan Pryce is pitch-perfect as Joe, by which I mean infuriating in such an insidious way, and Christian Slater is just the right amount of thirsty as a would-be biographer sniffing around the family.  Downton Abbey’s Elizabeth McGovern does a nice job in a small role, and special shoutout to Annie Starke (a new face for me) and Harry Lloyd (Son of Mine or Herbert Pocket, take your pick) as the younger versions of Joan and Joe.  The flashbacks are so excellently used and tell so much about these two and what their relationship is.

Warnings

Language, brief sexual content, drinking/smoking, and brief drug references.