THE LAST LAUGH: REMEMBERING HEATH LEDGER

It may not have been the kind of day that marks people but I still remember where I was when I first heard that Heath Ledger had died. It was nowhere special. I was just sitting at my desk at work when my brother called to tell me what he had just seen or heard or read on the news. It didn’t make any sense to me. It couldn’t possibly have been true. He must have been mistaken or the reports must have been overblown. And while the details surrounding Ledger’s death in the press certainly were blown out of proportion, my brother was definitely not mistaken about what he had seen, heard or read. The 28-year-old actor and father died of an accidental overdose of prescription drugs on January 22, 2008. A dark night, indeed.


I walked home stunned and, after pouring myself a generous glass of red, I settled into my couch to watch BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN. I was compelled to do so. I somehow felt that by watching this modern classic that transformed Ledger from another pretty face in the crowd to a bonafide contender would keep him alive for a couple more hours. You know what? It did. Watching Ledger as Ennis Del Mar is like witnessing the miracle of life. The manner in which he mutters instead of talking, his tongue unconsciously twisting inside his mouth and the hushed self loathing that permeates through his squinted eyes stripped him of his charmer looks and revealed a calculated talent capable of creating great, new depths of character. Though Ledger had been seen on Hollywood screens for nearly ten years (ever since his eye catching turn in the Shakespearean teen adaptaion, 10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU), it was his Oscar nominated performance in the revelatory BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN that made him a real star.


After his first taste of Hollywood success, the native Australian saw his career heading in a direction he wanted nothing to do with. When he saw his giant mug plastered across America and the world as the face of the medieval joust comedy, A KNIGHT’S TALE, he put on the brakes. He was offered the lead in the SPIDER-MAN series but turned it down because it simply wasn’t him. He wanted to make movies that spoke to him. The first signs of his emerging talent showed themselves in his brief part as a suicidal police officer in MONSTER’S BALL. He carried himself with such sadness and disappointment that I wondered how much of his depression was based in reality. The years that followed brought disappointments despite his best efforts but BROKEBACK opened his doors wide open. In the little seen, CANDY, Ledger shows that no movie is too small as long as the story is strong. His turn as a heroine junkie is somehow just as romantic as it is heartbreaking. Showcasing his delicate ability to balance duality yet again, Ledger plays Robbie in Todd Hayne’s Bob Dylan masterpiece, I’M NOT THERE. Again, Ledger makes the unlikable somehow still sympathetic. And just as all of the world’s eyes were turning toward him, he passed, leaving only one role left to be seen.


Of course, that last role will become infamous. It will be nearly impossible to take your eyes off of Ledger as the iconic Joker in Christopher Nolan’s second Batman feature, THE DARK KNIGHT. There is no way to know if the world would be buzzing as much as it is about Ledger’s performance had it not been his final one but the world is watching and that’s what he wanted. The Joker himself would probably find the whole thing quite amusing. Young kid makes good and finally learns to infuse his passion for the craft into the Hollywood machine but doesn’t live to see it unleashed. Oh, the irony. I like to think that Ledger is smiling too about the whole thing. After all, he went through such trials to divert our attention to the performance and not the person and, without him here, we will be forced to do just that.

Heathcliff Andrew Ledger
April 4, 1979 to January 22, 2008

I’M NOT THERE

Written by Todd Haynes and Oren Moverman
Directed by Todd Haynes


Interviewer: Mr. Quinn, have you got a word for your fans?
Mr. Quinn: Astronaut.

In true tribute style, I’M NOT THERE opens with the sounds of adoring fans waiting for their favorite folk-rock star to grace the stage. The camera maneuvers in first person point of view through the winding corridors leading from the dressing room to the stage. This build toward the reveal is one we’ve all seen before but this is perhaps the most traditional thirty seconds of the entire film. It isn’t long before the cheers are interrupted by the roar of a motorcycle and a man on a bike driving across a deserted dirt road. The shot is ultra wide and the sky is that deep grey only black and white film can provide. Writer/Director, Todd Haynes inadvertently announces, in the mere seconds it takes the shadowy biker to cross from one end of the screen to the other, that what we are about to watch will be anything but traditional, aesthetically breathtaking and an experience unlike any other. Blinking boldly on and off in the middle of the sky are the words of the title – one by one they appear out of sequence until they settle for a moment in order and all at once, before flickering away yet again. I’M NOT THERE is inspired by the many lives of Bob Dylan but he is somehow nowhere to be found in the two hours that follow and yet still everywhere at the same time.


I’M NOT THERE is entirely and unapologetically experimental. Six different actors (Christian Bale, Cate Blanchett, Marcus Carl Franklin, Richard Gere, Heath Ledger and Ben Wishaw) play six different characters that represent human incarnations of Dylan from various periods of his existence or from inspired interpretations of where his life could have gone. No one story is told from beginning to end nor overtly connected to any of the surrounding stories. Each is told with a different visual motif, from smooth to grain, from subdued black and white to brilliantly expressive color, from cinema verité to abstract imagery that leaves you lost and puzzled. The entire undertaking can be daunting and overwhelming if you aren’t prepared. Even if you go in armed with sharpened knives ready to dissect the onslaught of non-linear imagery, it will come at you so fast, your knives will be dulled before you can make the first cut. While it certainly helps to be a fountain of Dylan knowledge, it won’t hurt if all you can do is maybe hum along to “Blowin’ in the Wind” on a good day because Haynes is not concerned with telling a direct account of Dylan’s story. Rather, he is paying homage to what his life and how he lived it inspired both passion and rage in millions.


What saves I’M NOT THERE from being overbearing, pompous and pretentious is intention. Haynes had been a Dylan fan in his high school years but only recently rekindled his love for the artist. His decision to cast and shoot without boundaries was meant to embody the same spirit and freedom of the man whose life story he was telling. His unfettered approach does at times come off as film student idealism (with expert technique, mind you) but his innovative and open-minded choices ultimately win out as inspired. His decisions are not only experimental but also successful. There is never a moment that Haynes’s love for Dylan is in question. In fact, his love is so potent that, just like the real love experienced in intimate relationships, it clouds his vision. Haynes’s Dylan is put upon and criticized to the point of hiding and recluse but his attackers (members of the press or fans who have turned on him) are always portrayed as people disappointed that he is not what they want him to be or need him to be. People needed Dylan to bring them peace but all he could claim was that you couldn’t change the world with a song, that all he could sing was what was inside of him. In that regard, he never stopped singing about the truth.


The truth behind I’M NOT THERE is that it is best enjoyed if you don’t try to define it. If you allow it to be what it is, to let it go where it must in order to be complete, then its secrets will inevitably reveal themselves when they are meant to be seen and understood. I don’t pretend to say I understand the film in its entirety. I have theories about what is being said and how it needs to be said in a certain fashion but I can’t claim that any of them are accurate. For me, both Todd Haynes and Bob Dylan are poets and this film is but a love poem from one man to the other.

BLACK SHEEP @ THE FESTIVAL NOUVEAU CINEMA

Every fall in Montreal, a seemingly small festival sneaks in with the colder weather. I had never paid it much mind in the past. It always appeared as too experimental for my taste. This year though, I was asked to cover the festival and interview directors so I had to put my entirely unfounded apprehension aside and deal with my fear of the experimental. If only I had done so sooner. As it turns out, there is very little that is experimental about the FESTIVAL NOUVEAU CINEMA. The festival is dedicated to showcasing new and original works from the independent field of cinema. New films by Denys Arcand, Brian De Palma and Gregg Araki were screening. Films that were already working the festival circuit, like PERSEPOLIS and LARS AND THE REAL GIRL, were screening. And then there were the three films I caught that I am now presenting to you – FUGITIVE PIECES, DEFICIT and I’M NOT THERE. One is by an experienced director whose works are only getting bigger all the time; one is by an actor-turned-first-time-director who should perhaps stick to what he’s already good at; and the last is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.


Jeremy Podeswa. The name meant nothing to me when I was asked to schedule an interview with him to discuss his new film, FUGITIVE PIECES. The night before the screening of the film, I sat down to watch a season two episode of SIX FEET UNDER, entitled “The Invisible Woman.” The opening credits were rolling and there it was, “Directed by Jeremy Podeswa.” I paused for a moment to grasp the coincidental timing of it all as this was just the next episode in line on my trek to rewatch the series. By the time the episode, in which a woman dies alone in her home and no one discovers her for three weeks, was finished, I could not wait for the screening. Podeswa not only allows his characters to be flawed, he encourages it. At the same time, he does not lay blame on the characters for their troubles but rather forgives them and gives them the space to understand themselves. FUGITIVE PIECES is sweeping and romantic but still hard and honest. When Jakob is a young boy (Robbie Kay) in Poland, he is hidden under a table by his mother before Nazis break into the home, kill both his parents and leave with his older sister. He survives the ordeal and the war but years later (now played by Stephen Dillane), as he struggles with relationships and himself in Canada, it is clear, he is still hiding under that same table and praying for it all to end. The film defines itself by its nuanced performances, tight storytelling and unorthodox editing, choosing to tell both Jakob’s story as a boy and as an adult simultaneously instead of one after the other. The result is an intimate portrayal of his life with an understanding of how he became who he did and desperate longing for him to realize whom he could be.


Gael Garcia Bernal is a talented actor. He brings depth and innocent curiosity to his performances. The roles he takes on are often socially relevant and insightful contemplations on human interaction. After so many years in the business, making the move to directing would seem like a natural progression for someone of his pedigree. Somehow, this is simply not the case. His first feature, DEFICIT, is aimless. Any point it thinks it might be trying to make is entirely undermined by lack of driving action in the plot and the exhausted clichés that are used as character definition. Bernal stars in his own movie as Cristobel, a spoiled, young college student who has come to his Mexico home for the weekend to party it up with some friends. He gets to the house. His sister is already there with friends. His friends show up. They party by the pool. They drink and do drugs. The boys try to get with the girls. Someone almost overdoses. He cries about how he’s lonely and can’t get into the college of his choice. People go home. The movie ends. The young party goers all seem to be having a grand time but why would I want to watch this? Quite frankly, I’d rather be at such a party than watch other people have it. Throughout the day, Cristobel makes looks and comments at the house staff so it would appear as though he is trying to point out the disdain between classes. It is so plain a statement, so obvious in its execution and so underdeveloped that it hurts the film more than it helps. Why bother trying to make a point when you’re not quite sure what point it is you’re trying to make?


And then there was that Dylan movie everyone’s talking about. This is the one where six different people play different incarnations of the American icon from his illustrious life. There is no sequence to the story; there are no boundaries in the casting. Todd Haynes’ I’M NOT THERE is simply the most accessible experimental film I have seen and the most original film of this year so far. Throughout his life, Bob Dylan has filled many roles. He has been a folk-singer, a sellout, a husband, an outlaw, a hero and, at one point, he was someone he was not. Much like FUGITIVE PIECES, Dylan’s story is told in a fragmented fashion to paint the complete picture of this one complex man. Each fraction of his life is a story unto itself but intrinsically linked to the whole and each features a different actor playing the Dylan part. Albeit fine performances are delivered by Christian Bale, Heath Ledger and even Richard Gere, it is Cate Blanchette’s performance that is most memorable and most moving. She plays Dylan at a very low point in his life. His fans worldwide have turned on him, accusing him of being a sellout and going against everything he ever stood for. He has also traded sleep for drugs, making it near impossible to stop shaking his leg. In this time of confusion, all he is trying to get across is that he never believed he could change the world with a song despite everyone wanting him to do just that. Blanchette plays him as righteous, put upon and fragile and she is a marvel in this man’s shoes. I’M NOT THERE implies that Dylan is at the same time none of these people and still all of them at once. Haynes’ direction of the brave effort is genuine in intention, not the least bit pretentious and creatively alive – just like the man whose portrait it paints so beautifully.

As the festival has now wrapped, I can look back and honestly say that covering it – from morning press screenings to free passes to interviewing directors to mocha javas in between – has made me feel more like a legitimate film critic than I ever have before. Funny how being a part of something designed to distance itself from the mainstream managed to make me feel so included.