Thursday, 6 February 2014

'Labor Day' - Movie Review


Just when you thought you had Jason Reitman worked out, he comes out with his most mature and dramatic film to date, Labor Day. In previous films, Reitman’s characters have possessed unsavoury qualities. His characterisation has often been unique, leaving us to work out how he is able to make unlikeable character likeable.

Set during the 1987 Labor Day weekend in New England, we immediately meet the one who we assume must be Reitman’s next unlikeable character, Frank (Josh Brolin), an escaped fugitive. After stalking his prey – an unstable mother (Kate Winslet) and her 13-year-old son (Gattlin Griffith) – in a Pricemart, Frank demands their “assistance” in getting him out of the store and into safe hiding. After surrendering to Frank’s demand to take him back to their home – it’s at this point that we imagine the worst – we soon find ourselves in uncharted waters as Frank is not the angry and violent man we had picked him to be. Instead of threatening, Frank is charming. And instead of abusing, Frank displays the tender care Adele (Winslet) has not known for too long. But with Frank nursing injuries and hiding out, what is one to do with a convicted murderer on the run?


What turns out to be most memorable about the film (based on Joyce Maynard’s novel) is what the character of Frank brings to the mother and son’s lives. There’s a point when you ask yourself who the real prisoner of this tale is. The answer proves to be Adele and it isn’t due to the fact that she’s being taken “hostage”. Her home has come to resemble her isolation, and as Frank helps fix up the house, so he helps mend the heart of this scarred woman. She’s desperate for the touch and love of another person but can’t manage to break free of past hurts. 

John Henry Thoreau’s Civil Disobedience came to mind as I watched and thought about what it means to be a prisoner. For Frank, a jail cell doesn’t necessarily take away freedom, whereas for Adele, existing outside a cell doesn’t necessarily grant freedom. Instead, freedom is something to be found within and full credit should go to Reitman (who wrote and directed the film) for making us engage with these thoughts.

It becomes inevitable that Frank and Adele, two shadowy figures, would fall in love. It is odd how the romance develops – the seductive baking scene will test your feelings and remind you of a certain pottery scene in Ghost – yet there is no denying the ability of the film to make us feel. We can’t help but get behind these three characters and the deeper we delve into Frank and Adele’s flashbacks – his leading to incarceration and hers to miscarriages and the betrayal of her husband – the more we believe that this love is predestined.

 
Reitman also has an uncanny sense for casting. Winslet is a no brainer, given that she is perhaps the finest dramatic actress of her generation – I was reminded of her forceful performance in Revolutionary Road – but Brolin is a surprisingly superb choice, as he possesses a burly look, which is then counteracted by his soft, caring demeanor. Yet, it’s the perfect casting of Gattlin Griffith as Adele’s stoic son which gives the film its heartbeat. Tobey Maguire narrates the film as an older Henry, but Gattlin brings a real emotional edge to the film. Constantly, we feel pulled in his direction and one of the most heartfelt scene centres around Frank teaching Henry how to improve his swing. And just like Ellen Paige was able to capture the quirky character of Juno, Gattlin gives a mature performance as a son who has had to grow beyond his years so that he can look after his agoraphobic mother.

What also proves to be a masterful stroke is the choice to rid the film of an antagonist. It was awful of Adele’s husband (a pitch-perfect Clark Gregg) to leave her but he isn’t your typical “bad husband, bad dad”. No one is without back-story, complication, regret and struggle.


Some will find the film unbelievable as Frank’s character goes against the norm and the romance is, well, odd. If you can work your way past the baking scene, however, you are in for a powerful ride.

Isolation, freedom and predestination. Labor Day works less with Reitman’s comedic flare and more with the struggles of life. It’s a strange love story, but one we ought to believe can take place. So, care for a slice?


7/10

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