Pandemic Picks Part 2: Two Men and a Lady

1. The Invisible Man (2020)


Though it would have been magnificent, I'm sure to have gotten the opportunity to have seen it on a big screen there is something undeniably intimate about The Invisible Man (2020) that makes a first time home viewing all the more appropriate and emotionally effective. The film takes us into domestic settings and gives them a distrusting aura. A bedroom is no longer a safe space, and a kitchen becomes isolating instead of unifying. Director and writer Leigh Whannell, who was the idea man behind the Saw Franchise takes what could have been an easily mishandled sci-fi premise and turns it into something fresh, relevant and earnestly terrifying. It is a shame that Universal Pictures had to go through the cinematic tragedy that was The Mummy (2017) in order to arrive here. Originally intended to be a shared universe (the Dark Universe) Universal had planned to recreate the classic monster movies of Hollywood's Golden Age in new and exciting ways throughout several connected films. The Mummy highlighted a fundamental misunderstanding of how to handle this material that audiences still felt connected to decades later. They don't want a complete creative overhaul of the stories they've come to know, love and fear, but they also do not desire an incompetent rehash of these genre-defining tales either. The Invisible Man succeeds most frequently because it places itself somewhere comfortably in the middle. It is familiar enough, but also contains plenty of new ideas on how to reinterpret the beloved material in meaningful ways. Taking clear inspiration from films outside the horror genre, most notably Sleeping With the Enemy (1991) the film tackles the subject matter of domestic violence with surprising subtly. The plot smartly skips over our protagonist troubled marriage, and the audience is spared scenes of blatant domestic violence that are instead articulated by Elizabeth Moss's performance later on. Everything from her body language to her facial expressions tells us the type of marriage she was trapped in; the rest is a picture we can paint for ourselves in our own minds. The plot eschews many cliches, providing jump scares that are inventive and less predictable than many contemporary thrillers and horror films of the recent past. It sometimes seems to forget that it is not a supernatural film and therefore fails to explore some of the logistics behind its antagonist's dastardly schemes. Where does Adrian sleep, or eat for that matter? How did he and his brother fake the suicide so perfectly without raising any suspicion from the authorities? How is he able to always follow Cecilia even to places that would clearly require him to access via a motor vehicle? If one approaches the film from a more metaphorical interpretation, seeing him as a simple allegory for Cecilia's pain and suffering, these questions are basically pointless. Still, to those of us who appreciate nuanced details in regards to filmmaking and plot structure, these would prove to be reasonable inquiries. Though the ending is undeniably satisfying in a Post- Weinstein society, the pacing of the film hits a speed bump towards the end as the climax can't help but feel fifteen minutes longer then it should be. Some may argue this is merely Whannell challenging genre conventions. Still, even if the material on screen is engaging, that doesn't mean he can transcribe the narrative to us seamlessly. The rips in the seams are apparent throughout in little ways, but those who are looking for a film that is frightening on a humanistic level and fantastical one will find dozens of redeemable qualities within this film than faults or flaws. The bar was set pretty low, and The Invisible Man is a hopeful sign that these monsters from our past may have suitable reasons to return, especially if they are given such relevant and relatable new context as is done in this film. How can the fears of our past influence our fears in the present? That is the question that should be on every "Dark Universe" filmmakers mind as they move forward with their re-imaginings. Maybe we'll find The Mummy's failure to have been a blessing in disguise? Sure The Wolfman fighting The Mummy sounds exciting, but perhaps it is the origins of the beasts that will prove to be the true crowd-pleasers in the years to come.


2. The Tomorrow Man (2019)


While some have found comfort in some form by watching pandemic-related media like Contagion (2011), Outbreak (1995) or even 28 Days Later (2002) I prefer the escapism of literally any other genre of film available to me. While browsing for something to watch on Hulu yesterday evening, my parents and I came across The Tomorrow Man (2019). Starring two of our favorite seasoned actors, John Lithgow and Blythe "She Never Works Enough" Danner, this cute late in life romantic drama seemed like an ideal choice. What we got was indeed a love story, but it is wrapped in cellophane comprised of vaguely explained paranoia and trauma. These characters are having problems not in finding love, but in finding themselves again amidst the rubble of their fractured lives. Lithgow overcomes his divorce by focusing on prepping for the End of Days while Danner is still reeling over the death of her daughter over a decade prior by hoarding. Neither of their psychological psyches is mined too much depth by writer and director Noble Jones, who has a difficult time developing each of them as individual characters as he develops their romantic entanglement in one another's complicated lives. Danner and Lithgow shine in their roles despite the problematic material they are presented with and show undeniable chemistry with one another throughout the film. When all else fails, their commitment to adorable quickness keeps the audience engaged. The running time is too short, at just an hour and thirty-five minutes, that it is no wonder the viewer can't help but feel cheated in some way by what can and should be a more emotionally resonating love story/character study. The ending is a surprise but would be all the more satisfying if the build-up to it had been more enthralling and competent. We still don't know these two people well enough before we find them face to face with a reality they had come to believe was a bad thought that needed to be shaken away. No doubt that is what so many of us thought of the COVID-19 virus in the past couple of weeks before the petri dish hit the fan. In that way, my parents and I related to Lithgow's skewed POV in a sympathetic light. Better to be prepared for the outrageous, because we now know the outrageous to be a tangible reality. Danner's character perspective ultimately resonated with me more, however, and it is a crucial scene in a hospital room where she essentially spells out the film's timely moral: stop living for tomorrow and start living for today. That is certainly a lesson people should be heading all over the world right now, and it is for that reason that I would recommend The Tomorrow Man to other film-watchers, along with the enjoyable performances put on by its two reliable leads. An imperfect film yes, but these are imperfect times we are living in and something about that makes this a match made in quarantine.


3. Portrait of a Lady On Fire (2019)


Perhaps one of the most challenging things to depict on film is authentic, genuine tenderness between two people. Even in modern on-screen romances we often find our senses assaulted by oversaturated and manipulative film scores or distracting side-characters as we attempt to sit back, and engulf ourselves into a love story that we believe in and earnestly root for. Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019) does away with two of these issues almost instantaneously. The film forgoes a musical score, though you'll be so enraptured in the story you'll likely not realize it and make one up in your head. It also situates its characters on an isolated island in a grand estate with only a single servant. The character of Sophie is far from a distraction; however, as it is through her own journey that the two lead characters, Marianne and Héloïse, form an even stronger bond with one another. Sophie's abortion scene could easily be misinterpreted as having a pro-life thematic undertone, as she lies across a bed beside a baby as is being treated. I, however, believe that as Sophie looks at the cooing baby beside her, she is relieved and comforted, because she knows she has made the right decision for herself and the potential life inside her. One could argue that witnessing this self-love, encourages Marianne and Héloïse to pursue each other even more fervently. They come to realize that life is too short not to give yourself some semblance of what you've earned through loneliness and conformity. The film presents the love story ample time to develop and grow. It never caters to any potentially lustful desires of its viewing audience once the two women consummate the relationship. Theirs is real tenderness because it is so clearly theirs to enjoy and explore, not ours. We are fortunate to be privy enough to their mutual courting of one another, for it is most certainly that, a mutual courting. So many love stories, be they heterosexual or otherwise, almost always have one character be the figurative hunter, and the other their figurative prey. Women are almost always relegated to the role of prey, an object of desire to be obtained. Marianne and Héloïse handle things quite differently than the norm, not just for the period in which the film is set, but even by modern standards. They pursue one another covertly, but not narcissistically. They see what each other is lacking in life and wish to fill in these painfully empty voids for however short of a time they may have together. They look to each other not just for love, but for knowledge as well. Héloïse learns how to paint and appreciate art. Marianne learns what is like to commit to another human being so intimately, beyond a canvass. Though they are considerate of their own needs as mentioned, they are even more interested in what they each hold in their minds as well as hearts. It is difficult to recall the last time a film created a romantic bond out of such mutual respect, even when set during a time-period of stringent hierarchies and formal protocols. American filmmakers can learn so much from Céline Sciamma masterful depiction of forbidden love, just as her equally great film Tomboy (2012) gave a stunning blueprint on how to handle gender identity issues in cinema. Portrait of a Lady on Fire is not an exquisitely portrayed lesbian love story. It is an exquisite love story, period. Its strength lies in its subtly, its unbridled commitment to emotional complexity, and the undeniable solidarity found between its three female leads. It is a film not to watch, but to experience. That is how you know it expresses genuine tenderness because it makes you want to do the same in return. In this time where we are lamenting over temporarily forced isolation, we should also take the time to consider those who are isolated in less literal ways every single day of their lives. For them, there is no one-shot vaccine on the horizon, but at least with this film, they can find comfort in the knowledge that others see them and respect their plight.