Pat
is bipolar. Tiffany is depressed.
Pat
nearly beat his wife's affair to death and has just left the mental
institution where he spent the last eight months. He longs for a
reunion with his wife, restraining order notwithstanding.
Tiffany
has developed nymphomaniac tendencies after the death of her husband
and battles a severe depression.
Sounds
like the newest Ken Loach? Nope, here comes David O. Russell's
Hollywood rom-com in the tradition of a 30s screwball comedy. Like
the flawed individuals that people this film, the latter is at odds
with itself. First things first though.
Pat
then returns to the family home in Baltimore in order to live with
his Dad, an OCD bookie who comes to regard his son as the good luck
charm his team needs to win, and his mum, a woman of near saintly
patience who seems to constantly be churning out sausages and
meatballs from her kitchen.
When
Pat is invited to dinner by his friend Ronnie and his dominating wife Veronica (
Julia Stiles here, again superb in her signature role as the Ice
Queen), he (re-)meets Tiffany. Pat has no qualms about using Tiffany
as a courier to get a letter to his wife, seeing as he isn't allowed
to approach her. Tiffany in turn, fully aware of being used, strikes
up a deal in which she forces Pat to take part in a dance competition
to be held at a local hotel.
It
is rather surprising how O.Russell tries his hand at formulaic
cinema, especially with the last scene gaining in immense importance
and momentum through a bet placed on the outcome, the presence of an
emotional rival and a public platform for the couple's blossoming
romance.
This
is a film that lives through smaller moments as the plot is short of
ludicrous sometimes. I won't say too much, but the bet? It seems as
if the screenwriters constantly tried to find solutions to narrative
hiccups and the film never quite feels a unified whole and always
slightly out of sync. That being said, it thrives in its careful
weaving of a rich character fabric, especially in the care and
attention to detail given to the supporting roles, first and foremost
of course Pat's dad and mum and the relationship they have, which
comes across as very real in Pat's mum's acceptance of his dad's
violent streak and the latter's apologetic and absolute loving of
her. Everyone in this house is a culprit, his mum for her acceptance
and negligence to act, his dad for the violent outbursts which
resemble his son's in a way which he fails to see and Pat, in his
absolute expectancy of complete tolerance from his surroundings. At
the same time, no one's guilty as his mum's passivity becomes
patience, his dad's aggression is coupled with a sincere desire to
connect with his estranged son and Pat's self-involvement is fueled
by the will to be a better man.
It
is in O. Russell's never judging his characters that the film excels.
While most of the audience accepts the ludicrous plot-line of the bet
as we're so used to the cinematic code of 'if it's in the plot it
must be true', the directorial restraint, however, also gives the
spectator the chance to follow and evolve with the characters at
his/her own pace, resulting in an emotional participation rarely
found in contemporary mainstream, and make no mistake, mainstream
this still is.
Pat's
motivation and enthusiasm are a near-scary thing to behold. Remember
Tom Cruise in Magnolia?
You get the same vibe from Pat here. Pat is an incredibly dislikeable
character at first, obnoxious, volatile and self-centred. This does
provide, however, for the funniest scenes in the film. O. Russel
unobtrusively manages to let the audience warm towards this
self-proclaimed self-help pseudo-psychologist in letting us discover
the genuine despair and honest will for betterment behind it all. One
cannot help but feel admiration when faced with a man who has such a
strong will for happiness. Still, the film seems to have done better
with American audiences, maybe because the very themes of
self-actualization and betterment through emotional bonding just seem
more embedded in the cultural fabric of the States. At the same time,
scenes like Pat freaking out because he cannot find his wedding video
ring uneasily true and have an anguished authenticity to it; in
moments like these character-development moves away from narcissistic
self-entitlement as the magnitude of Pat's day-to-day struggle of
keeping it together becomes apparent. Cooper's performance is loud,
but honest and, I say this in full conscience of my own arrogance, a
little unexpected.
Teaming
him up with Jennifer Lawrence seemed even more of an odd choice to be
honest, but proved to be one of the best of the film. Lawrence is as
unafraid an actress as they come, she's not only constantly in Pat's
face, she's in ours too. She plays Tiffany with a brashness which is
as refreshing as it is, at times, uncomfortable to watch. She throws
the offer of sex in Pat's face, hiding the vulnerability which
inevitably accompanies asking someone to be your friend, even in your
twenties. Tiffany becomes the voice of self-acceptance: yes she's
dirty, but she also likes that about herself and can he say the same
thing about himself. And can we? This scene by definition should have
been uncomfortable to watch, yet, wasn't. Lawrence's performance is
genuine and, most importantly, never over-the-top, which is not a
given, considering this role. There's an appealing sloppiness to
Tiffany with her low-cut cleavage and foul mouth, as she is the only
one not afraid to tackle Pat.
Her
quest for something joyful takes the shape of the dance competition
and O. Russell deliberately chooses to make them pretty much suck as
dancers, while in a clever twist on the joyful spectacle the musical
interlude, he makes us watch a scene from Singing
in the Rain. It is
here, that the message hits home, as while the audience accepts
joyful eruption in musicals or the modern equivalent of dance films,
we absolutely refuse to integrate it into daily life. Yes, the final
scene was incredibly cringe-worthy to watch, mainly because of its
normalcy, at the same time, however, the spectatorial mood shifted
from embarrassed to cheerful and here lies the film's greatest
achievement. This might seem banal, yet, it has been a long time
since I was involved and not merely observing characters on screen.
It
further seems as if De Niro is back on track, playing the dad with an
emotionally charged intensity and, lo and behold, funny subtlety at
the same time, which make his performance a joy to watch, especially
in combination with the wonderful Jacki Weaver who acts almost solely
with her huge eyes, filling the screen in puppy-like dismay. Then
there's Chris Tucker in the role of Pat's friend Danny. He's, and I
never thought I would say this about Chris Tucker, but, surprisingly
low-key, yet delivers some of the funniest lines of the film. Remains
for me to mention Anupam Kher as Pat's therapist, who seems to take
Pat with exactly the right kind of low-beat humour the latter needs.
Yet,
there's an elephant in the screening room and here I'm left in two
minds about the film. As such: Can mental illness be used as romantic
premise of a screwball comedy? Love as miracle cure for mental
issues, self-betterment and redemption through personal discipline
and emotional connection almost seem like a chapter from
screen-writing 101 under the heading of character motivation. Only in
Hollywood. Even accepting the argument that it might be a useful
thing to depict mental illness in its most rudimentary form and
remove the stigma by putting it in the context of a romance, I still
cannot rid myself of a slight feeling of exploitation when it comes
to the use of bi-polar disorder as character-motivation and a happy
ending which seems to advocate the fact that no matter how ill you
are, the puritan values of a working discipline and the following of
a value system helping your re-integration as full member of society,
will miraculously cure you. Just like the American ceremonial nature
of sporting and sport outcomes take on a nigh-ritualistic spirit,
almost standing in for a substitute of sense-making in life. As such,
the film, in raising these questions, leaves an after-taste
completely counter-productive to its actual outset.
The
American pursuit of happiness has a darkly hysteric underside in
Silver
Linings Playbook
and the audience becomes an emotional
participant after having witnessed scenes of an accuracy so utmost it
becomes painful to watch, even if never in a voyeuristic, but in a
compassionate manner. The film has its merits, foremost in its
all-round excellent performances and genuinely funny moments, such as
my absolute favourite, the Raisin Bran scene,
absurd and original. Then again, the mixed message the film conveys
never really sits easy as I'm
not sure if dancing and free will cure bi-polar disorder and
post-traumatic depression. Soundtrack's good though.
