AWAY WE GO

Written by Dave Eggers and Vendela Vida
Directed by Sam Mendes
Starring John Krasinski and Maya Rudolph


Burt Farlander: I had a dream about Montreal last week.
Verona De Tessant: Was I topless in it?
Burt Farlander: Yes.

From the moment you see this dilapidated shack of a house, you think how could anyone live here? There is a light on inside so someone must live there. Who could possibly though? It looks as though it could fall in on itself at any moment. And then you see the inside. There is a tool and workstation in the bedroom! What hapless losers call this dump home? Well, that would be Burt Farlander and Verona De Tessant (John Krasinski and Maya Rudolph) and when you meet them, you realize instantly that they deserve so much better. They’re good people who are trying to find their place who haven’t realized yet that they don’t have to stay in one place to find it. They are also just now, both in their early 30’s, waking up to the reality of their adult life and seeing that they’ve got a lot more work to do than they thought. And so away they go in search of a real home in Sam Mendes’s AWAY WE GO.


It might have been the decrepit yet necessary space heater in the living room or the cardboard box that was doubling as a window in the kitchen but it was a lot more likely that it was Verona’s unexpected pregnancy that tipped the couple off. There comes a point in time in our lives when we can no longer just get by on our youthful charms, when we must take specific action to fashion our lives into something we can grow into security or a legacy. That time is now for Burt and Verona. After Burt’s parents (Catherine O’Hara and Jeff Daniels) inform the twosome that they are moving to Belgium for two years, they realize that there is no reason for them to continue living in Colorado as they were only doing so to be close to his parents. All too often, we resign ourselves to what we know and avoid venturing past our safety zones out of fear of the unknown or because of just plain complacency but Burt and Verona have just realized that there is nothing remotely safe about their particular zone. Worse yet, it isn’t home.


This charming road trip film is winning and touching despite its formulaic trappings. After leaving Colorado, Burt and Verona go to Phoenix, Madison and Miami. They even make their way north of the border to Montreal. At each spot, they visit with friends and family in hopes of feeling a connection that might make them want to move there. The premise is inherently episodic as each of these people they meet with has children already and they each have different approaches to proper parenting. There is always something to learn and Mendes does nothing to mask the transparency of their journey. What he does is allow seasoned character actors like O’Hara and Daniels, or Maggie Gyllenhaal, Alison Janney and Chris Messina to bring sincerity and depth to what would otherwise be hollow shells. And with the unavoidably likable Krasinski and the refreshingly honest Rudolph taking us on this ride, even long lulls on the road pass by like a breeze.


AWAY WE GO is the kind of film that makes me wish I had someone to get out there and look for a home with. Burt and Verona are something of a dying breed today. The love they have for each other is deep but practical and at no point in time does either take for granted that they will make it through to the other side without having to do a little work to get there. They also don’t take it all so seriously so as much as they work, they play just as hard. The way in which they play is what gives AWAY WE GO a warmth that I’ve only known from one place before … home.

THE SQUID AND THE WHALE

Written and Directed by Noam Baumbach

So rarely does a film say so much, so genuinely through simple, naturalistic dialogue about it’s characters, their plights, their story. And so rarely is it told so beautifully, so painfully and so honestly without being manipulative or obvious. “The Squid and the Whale” is that unique exception, that kind of film that you walk away from feeling lucky, fortunate for having seen it. This is a film about relationships, ranging from the influences our most intimate relationships have on us to the lengths we will go to to maintain these relationships and the difficulties experienced when trying to establish new ones with ourselves.

The setting for this exploration is the newly broken home of the Berkman family in 1980’s Brooklyn. We know from the moment we see the Berkman’s as they play a doubles tennis game with passive-aggressive unrest that they’re all playing a losing game. Bernard and Joan Berkman (played by Jeff Daniels and Laura Linney) had been together for nearly fifteen years and had two children during the course of their marriage, Frank and Walt, both in different stages of adolescence. As their relationship is at the point of its dissolution, the focus is placed on the children’s struggle to contextualize and understand their new joint custody lives. Bernard and Joan are left to discover a more significant relationship with themselves, a concept that had long since disappeared when their marital problems began to monopolize their attentions.

As Bernard Berkman, Jeff Daniels is superbly understated. As a once-acclaimed author whose successful past work has stumped him from producing anything new or of worth, Bernard is entirely baffled as to why he has found himself excommunicated from his home and living in a beat up house on the other side of the park. Daniels carries himself with pride and pompousness and never allows any hint of remorse or reevaluation to show in his eyes. The rousing performance is both brave and fresh; I felt as if I had seen a whole new dynamic to Daniels’ abilities. Bernard’s arrogance becomes all the more sad and contemptible when his eldest son, Frank is seen emulating his father’s ideals on topics as diverse as literature and women. Like his father, Frank only appreciates high art, carelessly dismissing anything that his father does not deem worthy despite having no formal knowledge of the art he praises. His opinions become hollow regurgitations that serve only to give himself the appearance of being more cultured than he truly is. He knows very much about very little. And like his father, he believes himself to be far more important than he truly is, causing him to view his relationships with women to be interchangeable depending on what opportunity presents itself and to see a woman’s purpose to be solely for serving his own needs.

Frank’s relationship with his mother, Joan is almost entirely severed after the separation. The blame needs to be placed somewhere and as it was Mom’s decision, this seems to be the best place to put it. Besides, what could possibly make her think she would know what’s better for their family than Bernard would? Joan’s presence is sparse and selfish, leaving Linney’s talents underused. Baumbach, pulling double duty as screenwriter, practically writes her character out of the story. Her career as an author is emerging and her sexuality and self-discovery burgeoning. Her character is more relevant as absent, leaving the men to fend for themselves for some much deserved me-time.

This absence has the most impact on youngest son, Walt, who is just entering his teens. With Frank constantly feeding his father’s ego, Walt is almost useless to Bernard, leaving him to his own devices. With little supervision or guidance, Walt feels his way through most situations, often making decisions that alienate him from society, making him reclusive and withdrawn while all the while naively participating in increasingly more destructive behaviour. It is too easy to dismiss Walt as lost cause in response to his behaviour as he is the only character who does not fear the future though he does not necessarily understand all of it.

Baumbach’s quiet masterpiece is the filet of the broken family genre. By demonstrating the effects of parents struggling to remain involved and not forgotten as well as reasonably putting themselves before their children, Baumbach shows how the Berkman’s selfishness leads directly to the children’s scrambling to regain their balance. That their selfishness is both warranted and understandable is what leads “The Squid and the Whale” to be the most levelheaded and pertinent film dealing with divorce I’ve ever seen.

GOOD NIGHT AND GOOD LUCK

Written by Grant Heslov and George Clooney
Directed by George Clooney


“Good Night, and Good luck” is one of those Hollywood films that get made at the hands of a major Hollywood player because they’ve played within the system for so long. When you’re George Clooney, you can make the film you want and get a bunch of your high-profile actor friends (from Patricia Clarkson to Robert Downey Jr. to Jeff Daniels) to come on board and no one in the system stands in your way. A certain leeway is afforded you and you needn’t worry about making a film that criticizes some of today’s North American societal staples such as television, the media or even the current presidential rule. I guess it doesn’t hurt to make these criticisms indirectly though.

Of course, no one would care what you had to say if your film was unwatchable so it’s a good thing that Clooney has a skilled hand when it comes to directing. He tells the story of CBS newsman, Edward R. Murrow (played here with restraint and dignity by David Strathairn) in 1953, as he takes on Senator Joseph McCarthy, intent on exposing his means to protect the United States from the inside threat of Communism for the witch hunt it actually was. The smooth film invokes a sense of exuberant energy with its high-contrast black and white cinematography and jazz interludes (sung on screen by soulful Dianne Reeves). Clooney crafts a neo-hipster, fast-paced look back at a time when people not only didn’t realize the dangers of smoking but, as in Murrow’s case, they did so while they gave their composed telecasts.

Murrow is introduced as nervously smoking backstage before accepting an award from his media peers. There is a sense that he knows that what he is about to say will be unpopular but it must be said. He then approaches the podium and warns of the potential dangers of television on society as a device that will stump and shelter our minds, ultimately casting a shadow of complacency over all under it’s control. This fearless usage of his power and position of respect will continue throughout the film and his career.

Next on Murrow’s hitlist is the media itself. Much like Peter Weir’s 1976 film, “Network”, a film that takes place about twenty years after this period, “Good Night, and Good Luck” presents media professionals aware of the direction their field is heading. They see the future as one where the media will not challenge authority but simply report it without question, essentially becoming a tool for the government to design the image it wants as opposed to exposing it for what it truly is. Murrow is fully supported by his producer and good friend, Fred Friendly, played by Clooney himself in an amusing supporting role that mirrors his role off camera. Neither is hellbent on taking on the system but merely determined to say what is not being said while they are in a position to have people listen.

“Good Night, and Good Luck” is smart and refreshing. It dares draw links between the McCarthy era and the Bush Administration, painting them as bullies and consequently showing today’s media as afraid to be the voice of the people it is meant to speak both to and for. Though the point is thinly veiled in nostalgia, it is still a necessary and welcome one.