Month: December 2010

Not since Lynn Redgrave graced the lead role inthe 1966 British film Georgy Girl,” has a bonafide “ugly duckling” connected so well with critical audiences as Sally Hawkins did in the 2008 “Happy Go Lucky.” Two years and a Golden Globe award later, Sally is back with sass. Proving her role in the previous Mike Leigh film was not a one-off, Hawkins soars in this historical ode to the power of feminine determination in the face of long odds.

Playing a composite character in a historical benchmark that led to equal pay for women workers in 1960s England, Hawkins dominates a film that swerves mostly authentically between pathos and comedy and slice-of-life familial and class tensions. Abetted by the always outstanding Bob Hoskins as a prodding shop steward type and a fine Miranda Richarson as a sympathetic Labor Minister, Hawkins sacrifices, asserts, and networks her way into eventual victory after an initial almost accidental drafting into the role as the movement’s leader. She’s equally able to soothe her husband’s vulnerability in the face of day-to-day sacrifices made on behalf of the womans’ strike as she is to face down a government minister. And she’s as believable to the core because in all essence she’s the ultra-talented personification of waxen, gorgeous normalcy.

Not since Lynn Redgrave graced the lead role inthe 1966 British film Georgy Girl,” has a bonafide “ugly duckling” connected so well with critical audiences as Sally Hawkins did in the 2008 “Happy Go Lucky.” Two years and a Golden Globe award later, Sally is back with sass. Proving her role in the previous Mike Leigh film was not a one-off, Hawkins soars in this historical ode to the power of feminine determination in the face of long odds.

Playing a composite character in a historical benchmark that led to equal pay for women workers in 1960s England, Hawkins dominates a film that swerves mostly authentically between pathos and comedy and slice-of-life familial and class tensions. Abetted by the always outstanding Bob Hoskins as a prodding shop steward type and a fine Miranda Richarson as a sympathetic Labor Minister, Hawkins sacrifices, asserts, and networks her way into eventual victory after an initial almost accidental drafting into the role as the movement’s leader. She’s equally able to soothe her husband’s vulnerability in the face of day-to-day sacrifices made on behalf of the womans’ strike as she is to face down a government minister. And she’s as believable to the core because in all essence she’s the ultra-talented personification of waxen, gorgeous normalcy.

Maudlin is in the eye of the beholder. Don’t give me Rabbit Hole is SO SAD like it’s some kind of black mark when we’re talking about quintessential grief here. Can’t relate to the utterly futile feelings arising from losing a young son? Go lower your IQ at Yogi Bear. Only issue for me is, does it work? Here it works sensationally. Nicole Kidman, fully recovered from both Tom Cruise-itis and her subsequent rebound into the safe haven of country music, gives her best performance since Eyes Wide Shut. Equally pleasurable, the ever venerable Dianne Wiest deftly matches Kidman’s every move, portraying Nicole’s mom, who also lost a son along the way.

Rabbit Hole strikes home as a highly plausible parable about alternate (yet parallel) universes of recovery. The central conceit of Kidman’s brazen solution to her ennui, is matched by her husband’s (Aaron Eckhardt) own approach. While seemingly at opposite ends on how to deal with their tragedy, it’s increasingly evident that similarities outweigh differences in their approaches to coping.

Tis true you must reach rock bottom before picking up the pieces in any real way. The drama, for moviegoers, is in the process, depicted here by director John Cameron Mitchell as an adroit gamut of emotional nuances, leaving the viewer drained yet finally free to find hope. And quite the antidote to Mitchell’s prior Shortbus, an odd, voyeuristic, yet hilarious and highly recommended ditty that has absolutely nothing in common with Rabbit Hole.

9 Eyes Wide Shut out of 10

Maudlin is in the eye of the beholder. Don’t give me Rabbit Hole is SO SAD like it’s some kind of black mark when we’re talking about quintessential grief here. Can’t relate to the utterly futile feelings arising from losing a young son? Go lower your IQ at Yogi Bear. Only issue for me is, does it work? Here it works sensationally. Nicole Kidman, fully recovered from both Tom Cruise-itis and her subsequent rebound into the safe haven of country music, gives her best performance since Eyes Wide Shut. Equally pleasurable, the ever venerable Dianne Wiest deftly matches Kidman’s every move, portraying Nicole’s mom, who also lost a son along the way.

Rabbit Hole strikes home as a highly plausible parable about alternate (yet parallel) universes of recovery. The central conceit of Kidman’s brazen solution to her ennui, is matched by her husband’s (Aaron Eckhardt) own approach. While seemingly at opposite ends on how to deal with their tragedy, it’s increasingly evident that similarities outweigh differences in their approaches to coping.

Tis true you must reach rock bottom before picking up the pieces in any real way. The drama, for moviegoers, is in the process, depicted here by director John Cameron Mitchell as an adroit gamut of emotional nuances, leaving the viewer drained yet finally free to find hope. And quite the antidote to Mitchell’s prior Shortbus, an odd, voyeuristic, yet hilarious and highly recommended ditty that has absolutely nothing in common with Rabbit Hole.

9 Eyes Wide Shut out of 10