READ: ‘Margin Call’ dissects the financial meltdown with keen precision

“Margin Call” (2011). Cast: Zachary Quinto, Kevin Spacey, Paul Bettany, Jeremy Irons, Stanley Tucci, Demi Moore, Mary McDonnell, Simon Baker, Penn Badgley, Aasif Mandvi. Director: J.C. Chandor. Screenplay: J.C. Chandor. http://margincallmovie.com/

The economy has been on everyone’s mind for several years now, and many have justifiably pondered how we got ourselves into this mess. But, as is becoming increasingly clear, the causes go beyond economics, having as much to do with human nature and what we create as it does with money. These questions are examined in meticulous detail in the Wall Street drama, “Margin Call,” now available on DVD.

In 2008, with the economy on the brink of a largely unforeseen meltdown, Peter Sullivan (Zachary Quinto), a junior financial risk analyst for a major investment bank, unwittingly makes an ominous discovery that has staggering implications for his company. Having been assigned the risk analysis work of his recently laid-off senior colleague, Eric Dale (Stanley Tucci), Peter concludes that the firm is overextended and on the verge of collapse. Upon making this discovery, Peter calls in the firm’s higher-ups (Paul Bettany, Kevin Spacey, Simon Baker, Demi Moore, Jeremy Irons), who concur with his findings and begin assessing what to do (and who to blame). Management is ultimately faced with making some difficult choices, namely, (1) taking drastic measures to save the company, even if that potentially means shafting investors and staff in the process, or (2) failure. Over the course of the next day, the powers-that-be debate the options of how to proceed – and how to live with their decisions. This becomes especially difficult, too, when the one person they need most to help sort out matters – Eric Dale – is nowhere to be found.

The economic crisis of the past several years (and its prelude, as presented in this film) is a prime example of what conscious creation practitioners call a “mass event,” one in which each of us contributes to its manifestation. And, in scenarios like this, as Shakespeare observed, we each play our respective parts on the global stage, fleshing out the probabilities we have each chosen to examine as part of our exploration into physical existence. We each choose to delve into different aspects of that grand drama; some of us look at “success” and others probe “failure,” some of us examine the ethics of our actions and others disregard them completely, some of us consider the well-being of everyone while others only look out for themselves, and we all do this within the context of a bigger picture that deals with a common theme.

To that end, “Margin Call” does an excellent job of depicting the foregoing as it applies to the world of finance (and its impact on all other areas of life). The audience is presented with all points of view, treating them more or less equally, without judgment, showing that each has its own degree of legitimacy, whether or not one would personally agree (or disagree) with any particular outlook. While it’s clear that director J.C. Chandor has a viewpoint of his own in telling this story, he’s also very careful to present everyone’s outlook fairly, showing the inherent validity of each of those views, regardless of whether he (or others) are likely to dispute them, for understanding the thinking behind those differences in outlooks is crucial if we ever hope to reconcile them.

These viewpoints are reflected in the personas of the key players, providing the audience with symbolic representations of the various lines of probability each chooses to explore. For example, for Peter’s boss, Sam Rogers (Spacey), the ethical implications of how the company plans to resolve its problems are almost more than he can handle. At the same time, for Sam’s boss, John Tuld (Irons), doing whatever is “necessary” is seen merely as part of what it takes to survive in the market – and what anyone (or any entity) concerned with its continued viability would do if its existence were threatened. As for Peter, who stumbles upon the issue triggering the crisis, it’s one thing to be shocked at the ramifications of what’s about to unfold, but that doesn’t mean one’s outrage can’t be set aside when personal survival is on the line, an attitude that he quietly maintains but isn’t afraid to tap when the need arises.

Tied up in this are several other significant conscious creation themes, such as the principle I refer to as “un-conscious creation” or “creation by default,” wherein the manifestation process is allowed to unfold without any sense of personal awareness and/or without any concern for the consequences. For instance, it’s apparent on a number of occasions that those at the highest ranks of management, such as Jared Cohen (Baker) and Tuld, have little understanding of what’s really going on. They often request that technical explanations of what’s transpiring be put into “plain English,” clearly revealing their incompetence about the areas over which they’re supposed to have oversight. That’s a scary prospect to consider, especially if the lack of economic expertise in the management of just this one fictional firm is any indication of what prevails in the real-world financial marketplace. Indeed, if this depiction is accurate, it really shouldn’t come as any surprise why the financial industry is in the mess it’s in. With economic creation by default allowed to run amok, chaos shouldn’t be seen as an unexpected result.

So why did things go so terribly wrong? In large part, it seems that the firm placed too much reliance on exotic financial formulas, letting the numbers do the work, rather than requiring engaged human beings to be personally involved in the wealth creation process. However, when the numbers are left to their own devices and don’t perform as expected, trouble ensues. Dale apparently tried warning management of this problem before his dismissal and before the issue got out of hand, but, since they either didn’t understand the explanations (see above) or were too unconcerned to pay attention to them, the warnings went unheeded. This thus points to another intrinsic quality of creation by default, the abrogation of responsibility. And that’s significant, for without the tempering influence of responsibility, conscious creation can get out of hand. It’s like a garden hose turned on full blast with no one gripping the nozzle; the outflow sprays all over everything, making a mess of all it touches.

Of course, when things go wrong like this, practitioners of un-conscious creation naturally look for scapegoats, and that’s certainly the case here. The top brass certainly has no intention of taking the fall, so they proceed to review the list of vulnerable candidates. Dale probably would have made the “ideal” choice, but since he’s already been let go, someone else needs to take the hit. Fellow analyst Sarah Robertson (Moore) seems like a possible candidate, given that she didn’t see the problem coming, as does Cohen, mainly because he’s caught in the middle, and that’s always a good place to cut when financial straits become dire. Or perhaps both of them should go; after all, they’re both pointing fingers at one another, which makes it plausible that they each may have had a role in the onset of this catastrophe. No matter how things shake out, though, this is more evidence of the abrogation of responsibility and creation by default allowed to run out of control.

The most damaging fallout from all this, though, is on those who didn’t see any of this coming, namely, the investors and the firm’s employees. Those who had the least involvement in the creation process bear the greatest brunt in terms of financial losses and pink slips. This illustrates the inherent connectedness involved in the conscious creation process, something we should all bear in mind as we go about manifesting the reality around us. Even if it seems like our participation in the process is limited, we’re nevertheless still part of it, just by virtue of our inherent connectedness to the overall whole. We might not be the ones holding the nozzle of the garden hose, but that doesn’t mean we still can’t get wet from it.

So must we settle for these circumstances? Or can we create something different? In one of his more impassioned observations, Tuld “explains things” to Sam: “It’s just money; it’s made up. Pieces of paper with pictures on it so we don’t have to kill each other just to get something to eat. It’s not wrong. And it’s certainly no different today than it’s ever been. … And you and I can’t control it, or stop it, or even slow it. Or even ever so slightly alter it. We just react. And we make a lot of money if we get it right. And we get left by the side of the road if we get it wrong. … Yeah, there may be more of us today than there’s ever been. But the percentages – they stay exactly the same.”

But this viewpoint speaks to a mindset that is increasingly losing support. With the rise of activist movements like Occupy Wall Street, things do seem different this time. It seems there’s a possibility for real change going forward, especially now that more people have become wise to what has been going on all along and are employing a heightened sense of awareness to the manifestation process. Even though Tuld and his real-world peers may have believed that the downturn that began in 2008 would be no different from those that periodically occurred as far back as 1637, they hadn’t counted on a change in the mass consciousness in proclaiming their assessments, and that component just might make the difference this time. After all, as Albert Einstein observed, “We can’t solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them,” but now that new thinking is entering the equation, those who have been stumping for the status quo just might find themselves surprised this time, and in large part thanks to conscious creation.

“Margin Call” didn’t draw much attention when it was first released last fall, but its profile has risen of late with several award nominations, including an Academy Award nod for best original screenplay and Independent Spirit Award nominations for best first feature and best first screenplay, as well as the ISA Robert Altman Award for best casting and performing ensemble. Filmmaker J.C. Chandor has done an excellent job writing and directing this debut release, getting great performances out of each of his cast members. The script has a slight tendency to get talky at times, but its detail, balance and authenticity save the day, taking a complicated and potentially dry subject and making it engaging.

Mark Twain noted that history seldom repeats itself, but it often rhymes, an observation especially applicable in the world of finances. This likely has more to do with what we create than with the forces of the market, something of which we’re beginning to become increasingly aware. Movies like “Margin Call” help to alert us to these conditions, and one can only hope that we heed its message to truly make a difference, not only in what we reap, but also in what we sow.

Copyright © 2012, by Brent Marchant. All rights reserved.

 

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READ: Dreams, preconceptions, identity under review in ‘Albert Nobbs’ by Brent Marchant

“Albert Nobbs” (2012). Cast: Glenn Close, Janet McTeer, Mia Wasikowska, Aaron Johnson, Pauline Collins, Brenda Fricker, Brendan Gleeson, John Rhys Meyers, Bronagh Gallagher, Mark Williams, James Greene, Antonia Campbell-Hughes, Maria Doyle Kennedy. Director: Rodrigo Garcia. Screenplay: Glenn Close, John Banville and Gabriella Prekop. Story: George Moore. www.albertnobbs-themovie.com/#

We all have dreams for ourselves in life. Many of us also probably have some pretty well-defined preconceptions about how those dreams – and our lives in general – are supposed to play out. But then sometimes we also get surprised at what we’re presented with when those aspirations manifest, particularly in terms of the impact they have on the identities we hold of ourselves. These are among the many themes that come up for review in the thought-provoking new drama, “Albert Nobbs.”

Hotel waiter Albert Nobbs (Glenn Close) is an oft-described strange little man. But then that’s probably because he’s not a man at all. Rather, Albert is a middle-aged woman who, because of the need to fend for herself financially, has been intentionally disguising herself as a member of the opposite sex since she was 14. And, thanks to her ability to successfully pull off this ruse, Albert has managed to set aside a tidy nest egg while working as part of the wait staff at Dublin’s Morrison’s Hotel. It’s a perfect place for her to work, too; the pay and perks are good, and the place holds so many deceptions of its own that it provides ample, discreet coverage for her own secret.

By focusing on her financial security, though, Albert has paid little attention to her personal life, particularly where romance is concerned. Also, she’s become so adept at passing herself off as a man that she has, for all practical purposes, come to regard herself as one. But, were the truth of things to come out, she’d face certain ostracism from conservative 1890s Irish society.

All that changes, however, when the hotel’s owner, Mrs. Baker (Pauline Collins), hires a painter, Hubert Page, to do some work at her establishment. She gives Hubert permission to share Albert’s quarters while doing the work, a prospect that causes Albert considerable consternation. The strange little man quietly struggles to hide her anxiety, but that uneasy trepidation quickly turns to outright panic when Hubert discovers her roommate’s true identity. Albert is terrified about the ramifications of this unplanned revelation – that is, until she realizes that she and Hubert (Janet McTeer) share the same secret.

Albert and Hubert become friends, spending time and sharing personal confidences with one another. Albert is particularly intrigued by Hubert’s description of the happy life she’s built with a loving wife, Cathleen (Bronagh Gallagher). Suddenly, Albert is able to picture a whole new life for herself, too. She envisions using her savings to buy a tobacconist’s shop, one that has an adjacent living area that would be ideal to share with a bride. Hubert encourages Albert to follow her dreams and seek the same kind of happiness that she has found, even going so far as to suggest that Albert pursue a relationship with the lovely young Helen Dawes (Mia Wasikowska), one of the hotel’s flirtatious chamber maids. Albert, who has had her eye on Helen for some time, concurs and decides to initiate the courting process.

Of course, wooing the object of her affection poses two challenges to Albert: (1) can she compete with her main rival, Joe Mackens (Aaron Johnson), the hotel’s strapping young handyman, who clearly has his sights set on Helen?; and (2) how does she break the news of her true gender status to Helen? Albert steps into uncharted territory in considering these possibilities, and she wonders how to proceed. Hubert is able to provide some guidance, but Albert is largely on her own in this endeavor, a path that has many potential rewards – and pitfalls.

Albert’s proficiency in envisioning possibilities makes her a highly competent conscious creator. Once inspired, she’s able to picture, with remarkable clarity, what she wants to achieve. But then that shouldn’t come as any surprise, since she’s been doing just that for quite a long time. When faced with having to support herself at a young age, Albert learned of an opportunity to work as a waiter at a Masons’ hall. She believed she was capable of handling the job, and, despite the obvious risks, she pursued it, successfully landing the position. The experience she earned in that job allowed her to obtain work later on in fine dining establishments in places like Manchester and London, putting her on firm footing when she decided to seek a position in Dublin.

Having successfully tackled the challenges in her work life, as well as accumulating a respectable degree of savings, Albert has positioned herself well to take on the challenges of reshaping her personal life. And now that she’s witnessed the happiness that Hubert has successfully attained, Albert believes that she can create that for herself as well. But, given that she’s on unfamiliar turf, Albert’s not sure how to proceed. Doubt begins creeping into her thoughts, and since doubt is one of the forces that can undercut the conscious creation process, Albert is potentially setting herself up for disappointment by allowing this. She even seems to recognize the impact that this is having on her plans, so she unwittingly attempts to compensate for it by micromanaging her materialization efforts, causing her increased levels of aggravation and even more doubt. Under these circumstances, she would have fared far better by putting out her intents to the Universe – her divine conscious creation collaborator – and allowing it to bring forth the conditions that allow her to realize her goals rather than trying to discern the specifics of how it should happen all on her own. By doing this, she runs the risk of working against herself, creating frustration that further undermines her efforts and ultimately brings her no closer to her desired objectives.

Through her experiences, Albert must come to terms with the fact that the fulfillment of our goals doesn’t always follow the prescribed forms that we envision, even if the essence of what we desire is eventually achieved. In circumstances like these, we may not even be aware that an objective has fundamentally been met until well after the fact or until someone points it out to us, mainly because we’re so focused on the outcome conforming to predetermined parameters that we can’t see the result for what it inherently is. This, essentially, becomes a case of the proverbial inability to see the forest for the trees, a practice that I call semi-conscious creation. Indeed, things might not always seem to be what they genuinely are (something that the protagonist should already be well-acquainted with), and, when we’re confronted with such conditions, they sometimes bring hard lessons, teachings that serve as cautionary tales for us all.

The impact of all of the foregoing can be considerable, especially when it comes to our perceptions of our own identities. We may well be more than the limited selves we see ourselves as, a notion that can have far-reaching implications. The title character comes to see this for herself, allowing her to move beyond who she believes herself to be, and in myriad ways at that. And, even if envisioned outcomes don’t always match preconceptions and/or result in full-fledged fruition, at least having the ability to view ourselves in expanded ways enables us to experience developments in our consciousness and personal growth that exceed previously constrained expectations.

The marketing campaign behind “Albert Nobbs” makes it look like fare suitable primarily for those keen on Masterpiece Theatre and pithy high-brow stage dramas. However, the picture is remarkably more “accessible” than that, an engaging offering for moviegoers other than those who wear tweed suits 24/7. It’s a heartfelt drama with a wealth of colorful characters in a wonderful period piece setting, with fine Oscar-nominated performances by Close and, especially, McTeer. The sound quality could definitely be better at times, though, especially when the players turn up the brogue factor, so sit close to the screen if the theater at which you’re viewing it has an audio system that leaves something to be desired.

The picture has been earning its share of awards season nominations, though it has yet to take home any hardware. In addition to its Oscar nods for Close and McTeer, the film has also been nominated in the Academy’s makeup category, a distinction it also earned in the Critics Choice Awards competition. Close and McTeer have also received their share of honors in other contests, with Close receiving Golden Globe and Screen Actors Guild Award nominations and McTeer earning accolades in the Golden Globe, Screen Actors Guild and Independent Spirit Award contests. The film was also honored with a Golden Globe nod for its best original song, “Lay Your Head Down,” a lovely, lyrical piece composed by Brian Byrne (music) and Close (words) and sung by Sinéad O’Connor.

I was especially taken with two quotes from this film. As Albert’s colleague, Dr. Holloran (Brendan Gleeson), the hotel’s resident physician, observes in a scene at a costume ball, “We’re all disguised as ourselves.” It’s a point that, arguably, has some merit, though, to me, it suggests a desire to hide, one that goes against our true nature. In that regard, I was actually more heartened by one of Hubert’s observations: “You don’t have to be anything but what you are.” It’s a statement that speaks to the core themes explored in this film – and, I would hope, to the core of our being as well.

Copyright © 2012, by Brent Marchant. All rights reserved.

 

 

 

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READ: ‘Fambul Tok’ reveals the power of forgiveness- A film review by Brent Marchant

“Fambul Tok” (2011). Director: Sara Terry. http://www.fambultok.com

From 1991 to 2002, the West African nation of Sierra Leone was plunged into a collective madness. The country was ravaged by a civil war in which countless unspeakable atrocities were inflicted upon the populace, often by individuals (and, in some cases, family members) who knew one another personally. It’s hard to imagine that anyone, let alone an entire nation, could heal the deep wounds produced by such barbarism. Yet that’s just what this tiny country has been working toward through an innovative reconciliation effort that’s the subject of the inspiring documentary, “Fambul Tok.”

Director Sara Terry’s film examines the workings of a grass-roots initiative known as the Fambul Tok program, whose name in Creole means “Family Talk.” The program is based on traditional village bonfire gatherings in which victims and perpetrators address one another, not only to make amends, but also to help restore the longstanding Sierra Leonean tradition of “community” as a way of life. Victims are afforded an opportunity to articulate their suffering – usually in painfully explicit detail – and perpetrators are subsequently offered the chance to express their remorse, after which victims are asked if they can accept the apologies of their offenders. And, remarkably, forgiveness is nearly always the result, even in the most egregious cases.

The film opens with an explanation of the program, which was founded in 2007 by John Caulker, executive director of the human rights organization Forum of Conscience. Through interviews with Caulker, the documentary illustrates how the program came into being and the significance of its methods, which were founded on traditional principles of Sierra Leonean culture.

As explained in the film, many of those who engaged in the atrocities were coerced into doing so by warlords from various political and tribal factions, often facing certain death if they failed to cooperate. Such practices ripped villages apart, frequently pitting friends and family against one another in life-or-death struggles and assailing the fundamental concept upon which the nation’s culture was based – the sense of community. Yet, through the Fambul Tok program, perpetrators have an opportunity to be welcomed back as full-fledged members of their villages, resuming their place as participating constituents of their communities.

“Fambul Tok” focuses on several personal stories to illustrate the initiative’s power in action. There’s the story of Esther, who at age 12 was captured by rebels and raped by 15 men, including her uncle, Joseph, who faced death if he didn’t cooperate with his captors. Then there’s the account of  Nyumah, who was ordered by rebels to beat his best friend Sahr, doing so to the point of crippling him, and then commanded to slit the throat of Sahr’s father. Tamba Joe, meanwhile, turned on the villagers of Foendor, beheading 17 members of his own clan. In each of these cases, however, despite their heinous acts, the perpetrators were ultimately forgiven and welcomed back into their communities.

Cynics might be tempted to look upon this initiative as naïve in its outlook and approach, that such monstrous acts are beyond forgiveness. But those critics should look at what the Fambul Tok participants are creating for themselves – a genuine example of real forgiveness. And what an example to follow. We often elevate the concept of forgiveness to an exalted status, but do we truly practice it when presented with the circumstances to implement it? Or do we just pay it lip service? Over the years there have been countless public examples of apologies being accepted by victims from high-profile transgressors only to have the perpetrators continually criticized by outsiders after the fact. In these situations, one can’t help but see the blatant hypocrisy and judgmentalism, inevitably prompting such observations as “It’s not enough to apologize anymore.” Clearly we could stand to learn a few things from these enlightened souls.

On some level, the Fambul Tok participants understand the conscious creation concept dealing with the inherent connectedness of all things in the reality around us. And that’s important, for an awareness of that principle is essential to creating a bona fide sense of community. It’s also important in understanding how to restore that sense of community when it becomes fractured, as happened during Sierra Leone’s civil war. All the parts of the whole need to be drawn back into it, even in the aftermath of such a tragedy, if it’s ever to be properly reintegrated once again.

There’s also been an amazing irony to come out of this program. In the wake of the conflict, the government established a special trial court to prosecute war criminals, and over the course of many years and exorbitant expenditures of funds, the court tried only a handful of criminals. By contrast, over the course of only four years, the Fambul Tok program conducted numerous forgiveness ceremonies, successfully reconciling countless victims and perpetrators, and at only a fraction of the cost. Whoever said peace only comes at a high price obviously never met the people of Sierra Leone.

“Fambul Tok” is one fine piece of filmmaking from start to finish, an engrossing documentary that holds viewers riveted throughout. It never loses sight of its objectivity, no matter how emotionally painful some of its individual stories are, yet it ultimately delivers an undeniable message of hope, enlightenment and inspiration, one that we all could learn from. The film has been shown at a number of festivals and special screenings (check the picture’s web site), and it’s available on DVD.

Philosophers and theologians have long maintained that there’s tremendous power in the act of forgiveness, though rarely has its impact been illustrated as eloquently as in this documentary. Those interested in alternative means of making peace will be intrigued by the quiet power of this profoundly moving film.

Copyright © 2012, by Brent Marchant. All rights reserved.

Technorati Tags: "Fambul Tok", "Family Talk", aftermath, apologies, Brent Marchant, civil war, community, connectedness, conscious creation, Creole, documentary, DVD, festival, Film, forgiveness, Forum of Conscience, human rights, hypocrisy, John Caulker, judgmentalism, lip service, making peace, objectivity, perpetrator, reconciliation, remorse, Sara Terry, Sierra Leone, special screening, transgressor, victim

READ: ‘Extremely Loud…’ proves incredibly unsatisfying

“Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close” (2011). Cast: Tom Hanks, Sandra Bullock, Thomas Horn, Max von Sydow, Viola Davis, Jeffrey Wright, John Goodman, Zoe Caldwell, Stephen McKinley Henderson, Bernadette Drayton. Director: Stephen Daldry. Screenplay: Eric Roth. Book: Jonathan Safran Foer.  http://extremelyloudandincrediblyclose.warnerbros.com/index.html

Tackling a sensitive, larger-than-life topic is a risky proposition in almost any context, but it can be especially problematic in the movie industry. In most instances, endeavors like that are bound to attract their share of both supporters and detractors (those involved in these productions no doubt hoping for more of the former than the latter). Such is the challenge that’s been undertaken by director Stephen Daldry in his latest offering, “Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close.”

Nine-year-old New Yorker Oskar Schell (Thomas Horn) adores his attentive, fun-loving father (Tom Hanks). They do everything together, from practicing tai chi to exploring the city that is their playground. They particularly enjoy playing a game that dad made up called “Reconnaissance Mission,” a scavenger hunt of sorts designed to encourage Oskar’s curiosity, to develop his problem-solving skills and to teach him about his world. And, being the methodical, inquisitive kid that he is, Oskar relishes the challenges posed to him, not only for the fun involved, but also for the father-and-son quality time that they afford. It’s easy to see that these two are best buds. Which is why it’s so hard for Oskar to cope with the events of 9/11, the disaster that claimed his dad’s life when the World Trade Center towers collapsed.

In the wake of this tragedy, Oskar desperately looks for a way to hold on to his connection to his dad, and he gets that opportunity when he unexpectedly finds a key in his father’s bedroom closet. Oskar wonders what the key opens, the only clue being the word “Black” written on the envelope that held it. He concludes that his dad must have left the key for him to find, the enigmatic object serving as the focus of one last Reconnaissance Mission. Oskar also surmises that, since the key could potentially open anything, the challenge posed by this exercise could keep him occupied for years – literally. What better way to keep the paternal connection alive, perhaps indefinitely?

And so Oskar embarks on a scavenger hunt that takes him all over New York. His quest introduces him to Gothamites from every borough and of every stripe, including, among others, a kindly divorcée (Viola Davis), a spiritualist healer (Bernadette Drayton) and a mute stranger simply known as “the Renter” (Max von Sydow). But, despite Oskar’s tenacity, his quest seems futile, causing him considerable frustration and straining relations with his mother (Sandra Bullock), who’s attempting to resolve her own grief over her husband’s loss. Oskar thus struggles to come to terms with the task that he’s given himself and whether it will ultimately help him reconcile – or merely prolong – his sorrow.

The foregoing summary probably makes the film’s narrative sound reasonably straightforward. If only that were the case. In actuality, the picture’s story line is all over the map, using a variety of storytelling devices and introducing subplots that either get dropped for no apparent reason or are awkwardly resurrected when seemingly forgotten. Because of that, it’s difficult to get a handle on what this movie is really trying to say.

To be sure, there are some conscious creation themes explored in the film, most notably those related to facing fears, examining unexplored probabilities, understanding the nature of the reality we experience, embracing change by letting go and appreciating the inherent connectedness of all things. However, the passing and often-haphazard treatment they receive reminds viewers of just how many other pictures are out there that handle these subjects much more deftly and substantively.

That aside, however, the theme that would-be viewers are perhaps most curious about going in is the picture’s treatment of the 9/11 subject matter. The world at large, and New Yorkers in particular, truly deserve a thoughtful film that effectively addresses the impact of this event in a way that can help promote the much-needed collective healing that’s still being sought a decade later. Regrettably, however, “Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close” fails to deliver on this point.

As it’s employed in this film, the 9/11 connection is, unfortunately, little more than a means to heighten the anguish of the survivors of a great personal loss, which is, in actuality, the primary thrust of the picture’s overall story line. Given that, then, Oskar and his mother likely would have been devastated by their circumstances no matter how their father/husband had died, so drawing upon 9/11 as a means to accentuate that pathos, without the event being given any more meaningful relevance within the overall narrative, only serves to reduce this tragedy to a plot device. In my view, the events of that fateful day clearly deserve more profound consideration than they have received here.

Progressively minded viewers have been anticipating this picture for some time, fueled in large part by a well-orchestrated marketing campaign. I, too, was looking forward to this offering far in advance of its release. I was truly hoping that I would like it, and I wish I had better things to say about it, but its meandering screenplay, choppy editing and unfocused direction combine to derail this effort. Making matters worse is the often-irritating performance of the film’s young male lead; his manic, shrill delivery exacerbates the many problems created by uneven writing and his character’s poorly crafted persona, that of a young man who’s either overly quirky and annoyingly precocious or a hyperactive special needs child receiving insufficient care (neither of which is made especially clear in the script or in his character’s development).

However, the film is not without its merits. Bullock turns in a fantastic performance (even if there wasn’t enough of her), as does von Sydow, who rightfully earned an Oscar nomination for best supporting actor for his portrayal of a silent, inscrutable enigma. But, despite these fine portrayals, there’s also an awful lot of great talent in this film that gets seriously underused, particularly Davis, Jeffrey Wright and John Goodman; they’re relegated to largely insignificant roles that could have been capably played by any number of aspiring actors looking to get some big screen exposure.

Despite the picture’s shortcomings (and a wealth of unflattering reviews), it nevertheless has its supporters. It received two Academy Award nominations, one deservedly for von Sydow’s supporting performance and one inexplicably for best picture. Earlier this month it also received four Critics Choice Award nominations, including nods for best picture, best director and best adapted screenplay, as well as a stunning (and bewildering) win for Horn as best young actor/actress.

Some have suggested that a good many reviewers have been overly critical of this picture, that it’s perhaps even the victim of a certain sort of fashionable cynicism. However, when a picture aspires to greatness by taking on an imposing subject, it had better measure up or its creators must be prepared to face the consequences. This sentiment is perhaps best summed up by film critic Gary Wolcott of The Tri-City Herald, who astutely observed, “Somewhere in Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close there probably is a great movie. It just didn’t get made.”

Sadly, I couldn’t agree more.

Copyright © 2012, by Brent Marchant. All rights reserved.

 

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READ: ‘The Iron Lady’ reveals how ‘what we think, we become’

“The Iron Lady” (2011). Cast: Meryl Streep, Jim Broadbent, Olivia Colman, Anthony Head, Alexandra Roach, Harry Lloyd, Nicholas Farrell. Director: Phyllida Lloyd. Screenplay: Abi Morgan. http://weinsteinco.com/sites/iron-lady/

One of the hallmark principles of contemporary metaphysical thought is that we each create our own reality (and in a highly personal way, I might add) through our beliefs and intents. But, as widely as this notion has been embraced, rarely has it been portrayed cinematically as eloquently as it is in the new biographical character study, “The Iron Lady.”

The film examines the life of former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher (1979-1990) (Meryl Streep) from the protagonist’s personal perspective. As the picture opens, we see the “Iron Lady” (a nickname the P.M. earned for her rigidly conservative political views, particularly regarding Communism) as an elderly recluse, her mental and physical health failing after a series of small strokes. She’s prone to engaging in lengthy conversations with her husband, Denis (Jim Broadbent), who died many years before but somehow manages to “appear” on cue. She seems adrift in delusion, detached from most everyone, including those attempting to care for her, such as her daughter Carol (Olivia Colman) and an assortment of domestic, personal and medical handlers.

After years of floating about in this psychological fog, however, Margaret quietly starts taking steps to get her life back. She embarks on this process by deciding—finally—to sort through and dispense with the personal effects of her late husband, possessions that she’s been holding onto for years. But, by doing this, she opens a Pandora’s Box of memories of her personal and political life. Recollections of her past relentlessly come flooding back to her (an experience not unlike the so-called “life review” that many contend we go through after we pass on). This deluge of memories forces Margaret to come to grips with what she’s done, for better or worse, as well as the rewards she received and the prices she paid for her successes and failures, both personally and politically.

Through flashbacks, we see Margaret’s younger self (Alexandra Roach) as a clerk in the family grocery during World War II, as an outspoken aspiring politician in post-war England and as the love interest of the successful young businessman who would become her eventual husband (Harry Lloyd). From there we witness her rise through the ranks of British government, first as a member of Parliament, then as Secretary of State for Education and Science, then as leader of the Conservative Party, and eventually as England’s longest-serving Prime Minister of the Twentieth Century (and the first woman ever to hold that office).

Once in power, we witness the challenges Margaret faced in dealing with such issues as Britain’s labor unions, the sagging English economy, the Falklands War with Argentina, the terrorist attacks of the Irish Republican Army (which took the life of her trusted advisor, Airey Neave (Nicholas Farrell), and nearly cost Margaret her own life through an unsuccessful assassination attempt), and heady international affairs involving the European Union and the end of the Cold War. And, through it all, we see the depth of her famous (or infamous) steely resolve to see her plans through.

On her climb up the ladder of success, Margaret triumphantly overcomes the many roadblocks thrown up by the privileged Parliamentary old boys’ club, obstacles intentionally designed to thwart the upward mobility of women and those of middle class background. But, in spite of her successes, Margaret also paid some high prices for her accomplishments. While she had her allies, she also made her share of enemies in government, the international arena and the public at large. Her family life frequently took a back seat to her public calling, straining relationships with her children and even her beloved Denis. And eventually she paid a tremendous price politically, when her inflexibility cost her the support of longstanding ally Geoffrey Howe (Anthony Head), her control of the Conservative Party and, in the end, the leadership of her country. It’s these costs that the elder Margaret must come to terms with as she struggles to take back her life.

At its metaphysical core, “The Iron Lady” showcases one individual’s efforts at practicing conscious creation, the philosophy that maintains we each create our own reality. This theme is perhaps best summed up by a quote from the protagonist: “Watch your thoughts, for they become words. Watch your words, for they become actions. Watch your actions, for they become habits. Watch your habits, for they become your character. And watch your character, for it becomes your destiny! What we think, we become.” In saying this, Margaret embodies many of this discipline’s principles, particularly those outlined in author Jane Roberts’s book The Nature of Personal Reality, one of the cornerstone works on this philosophy and how it operates.

Of course, we would be wise to monitor the elements that go into what we ultimately create, with a particular eye on being prepared for everything that comes with this process. To do otherwise is to practice what I have termed “creation by default” or “un-conscious creation,” whereby we put out our intents and inattentively let the chips fall where they may. Acts of creation always come with consequences, some of which we may dislike (a painful lesson that Margaret wrestles with in the course of her personal reflections). This is particularly true when we allow ambition to become a significant part of the mix, for its forcefulness can amplify the impact of the outcomes; the more we “push the Universe,” our divine collaborator in this process, the more exacerbated the results will be. Margaret learns this the hard way, too, especially when she’s challenged by her peers for the leadership of her party; her unwavering views, coupled with a penchant for “lecturing” her colleagues, play a huge role in bringing about her eventual political downfall.

Many have been highly critical of this film for allegedly playing fast and loose with “the facts,” even going so far as to say that it gives viewers a sanitized revisionist history of Thatcher’s life and career. But it’s on that point that I believe many of the picture’s detractors have missed the movie’s intent. “The Iron Lady,” in essence, is a character study, not a historical chronicle of the protagonist’s life, examining her outlooks and motivations from her own personal viewpoint (not unlike what the excellent made-for-cable production “The Life and Death of Peter Sellers” did for the legendary British actor). It’s meant to provide a look at what she was thinking and feeling about the historical events portrayed in the film, not what an outside, “objective” historian might have to say about her life and career. In that sense, then, the picture is more about the life of a person who just happened to be a British Prime Minister than about the life of a British Prime Minister who just happened to be a person.

Some have also been critical of the film’s portrayal of Thatcher as a dementia patient lost in a sea of delusion, suggesting that someone of her stature and character would never engage in acts as seemingly outlandish as protracted, hallucinatory conversations with her dead husband. Such speculation, they assert, is not only disrespectful but also patently unrealistic. But how do we know with certainty that this isn’t happening with her? Are we inside Margaret’s consciousness to verify such activities? If, indeed, we each create our own reality, then who’s to say that such an existence couldn’t be created with the thoughts of one’s mind, even for a respectable public figure like Margaret Thatcher. Besides, even if this portrayal is nothing more than a piece of fiction, that doesn’t automatically invalidate the narrative’s premise or format; fictional works based on the life events and personal ruminations of historical figures, including everyone from Mark Twain to LBJ, have been staples of Broadway and public television for years, so why not in the movies, too?

Lastly, many have been critical of the movie’s depiction of Thatcher’s politics. However, given the very personal nature of the story, I’d like to hope that audiences can see past the politics and look instead to the picture’s sublime metaphysical content. Again, the film is a fine portrayal of the conscious creation process in action as seen through the eyes of someone who just happens to be a prominent public figure, not a history lesson re-created through a conventional docudrama format.

Many aspects of “The Iron Lady,” such as Streep’s positively phenomenal performance, come as no surprise (she handily does for Margaret Thatcher what she did for Julia Child in “Julie and Julia”). But other elements of the picture are indeed revelatory, such as the skillful direction of filmmaker Phyllida Lloyd, who has stepped up her game remarkably from her last outing in the truly abysmal “Mama Mia!” High marks also go to Broadbent for an excellent (and thus far largely overlooked) performance and to the film’s makeup department for coming up with aging prosthetics that actually look realistic for once.

Streep’s portrayal, however, is, by far, the film’s greatest asset, having earned her a Golden Globe Award for best actress in a drama. She also received nominations for this performance in the upcoming Screen Actors Guild Awards competition and in the recent Critics Choice Awards program, which also gave the picture a nod for its outstanding makeup work. It’s virtually assured that Streep will also pick up an Academy Award nomination for this role when the Oscar nominees are announced next week.

Many moviegoers have characterized “The Iron Lady” as a fine performance wrapped up in a mediocre film, though I believe that assessment really sells the picture short. It’s a captivating metaphysical exploration of how we create our own reality—and how we should exercise care in doing so, because, as the protagonist so articulately and accurately observes, “what we think, we become.”

Copyright © 2012, by Brent Marchant. All rights reserved.

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