The Hours
It’s been a while since I’ve done a movie post, probably because it’s been a while since I’ve seen a movie. And then Netflix was kind enough to ship me The Hours yesterday, which is always a feel-good movie for a Friday night. (Or, at least, it’s the kind of movie to depress you lots so you can go out and dance to feel good about yourself; negative incentive or whatever.) But on top of that, it’s also a fantastic film, with superb acting (mostly), stunning cinematography (mostly), and lesbians (mostly). If you haven’t seen it, I will attempt to describe!
In essence, it’s three storylines that revolve around the novel Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf, perhaps the foremost example of stream of consciousness writing in literature (Joyce is too dense, imho). The first of the storylines revolves around Virginia herself, and one day in her life when she first comes up with the idea for the novel, and begins to formulate its plot and text in her mind. Besides this day (in 1922, England), we are introduced to Laura Brown, a 50s housewife in L.A., and Clarissa Vaughan, a present-day New Yorker who mirrors the character of Mrs. Dalloway herself. The film goes back and forth between these three women, but the mirroring effect of their lives prevents the plot from becoming disorienting. Laura Brown sums up the archetype represented by Mrs. Dalloway the best: “She’s a hostess. And she’s incredibly confident, and she’s going to give a party…and, maybe because she’s confident, everyone thinks she’s fine. But she isn’t.” All three have this heavy shit going on in their lives that they conceal, and the three days that are portrayed, beyond being eerily similar, are Turning Points, capital T, capital P.
And since it’s a queer blog, I should point out the most pertinent common thread: all three are lesbians, or bisexual, or somewhere this end of the Kinsey scale. Apparently (thanks wiki!) Virginia Woolf was known to have had relationships with women, though I’m not sure how intense the one with her sister – with whom she shares a kiss in the movie – was. Laura Brown, who’s expected to have her entire life revolve around having a home and raising children, kisses her friend Kitty in one awkward scene. And Clarissa Vaughan is partnered with a woman named Sally, but had a fling with her best friend Richard (for whom she is throwing the party); Richard himself is gay and now dying of AIDS. I shouldn’t say that it’s a lesbian movie, because it’s much more complex than that: here we have people that are uncertain about their feelings, scared even, trying to decide what to do, having reached that impasse where they can’t continue lying to themselves about their lives. Their sexuality only makes up a portion of the breakdowns they’re verging on (Virginia is confined for her bipolar disorder, Laura chafes under her pregnant housewife status, and Clarissa is strained by her love for Richard), but it’s nice to see it treated in the complex and timeless way it should be. It’s more of a “queer” movie than a “lesbian” movie, perhaps.
But the execution of it is just so brilliant, too. Michael Cunningham (gay himself), who wrote the novel, incorporated layers of meta-fiction and the style of Woolf into his prose. Virginia ponders how Mrs. Dalloway’s condition mirrors her own, while Clarissa’s day echoes the character’s almost perfectly. Laura connects with Clarissa’s storyline in a way that I won’t reveal, and all three women have things they say and do that show identical reactions to variations on the same situation of entrapment. The acting is breathtaking: Nicole Kidman won the Oscar for her portrayal of Woolf, and both Julianne Moore (Laura) and Ed Harris (Richard) were nominated as well. (I personally liked Meryl Streep’s performance as Clarissa more than Julianne’s, but I’ll forgive the Academy that one.) The rest of the cast includes luminaries such as Miranda Richardson, Stephen Dillane, Alison Janney, John C. Reilly, Toni Collette, Claire Danes (for whom I confess I have a soft spot), and Jeff Daniels. Eileen Atkins even shows up in a cameo. Put it all together with a haunting soundtrack by Philip Glass, good costume design and art direction, and you have a more-than-worthy film.
I don’t know if I would call it the most depressing movie I know, but it’s up there. I think what saves it from being too bleak (like Requiem for a Dream or something) is that it tells us, although no matter who, where, or when, we all feel that suffocation, but we can redeem ourselves in what we do for others.
~~ PQ
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