A Simple Curve (2005)

That time of year again. Time for my local film association to host a film festival boasting movies everyone else has already seen. Small town living is like that. Frankly, I enjoy it. And it's a wonderful festival. I only viewed one film on each of the first two days, because the first two days (Thursday and Friday) only have evening shows. Saturday and Sunday will boast shows all throughout the day, so I hope to catch more. Thursday's opening featured five films playing on five different screens at the same time (7-ish), so I could only choose one. The one thing that sucks about the festival is that it brings in 18 different films, but even if you attend every single screening, you could only get in 13, tops. And chances are you won't do that, because then you won't have time to do much of anything else. Last year someone was barbecuing outside so that people could grab a quick bite between shows. Some people are devoted like that. I'm not, so I imagine I'll only catch six shows, seven tops. Anyways, on Thursday I did my patriotic duty and watched a Canadian film, A Simple Curve, the feature length debut of filmmaker Aubrey Nealon. First up, an admission: I'm a sucker for anything that takes a post-modern slant on the issue of identity. I'm talking about the idea of identity as performance, as influenced by external factors. Recent movies that have tackled this idea to varying degrees, and which I have thusly enjoyed to varying degrees, include Head-on (one of last year's finest, if you may permit me such a claim) and The Squid and the Whale. Nealon explores this idea in A Simple Curve, and does so in a couple compelling ways. Firstly, the film's use of location. The film is set in a secluded valley in British Columbia, a little slice of paradise nestled snug in Western Canada, hidden away from the modern world. And that, of course, does not hold true for very long. Into this little valley comes the modern world in the form of Matthew (Matt Craven), who tells Caleb (Kris Lemche) to tell his father, Jim (Michael Hogan), to "fuck off." And this leads us to the second of Nealon's methods, the recycling of the "teenage rebellion" / "coming of age" narrative. But, Caleb is no teenager. He's almost thirty. Secluded in his little valley, he has never thought of any reason why he should tell his father to fuck off. He does not have that kind of relationship with him, nor has the idea of such a relationship ever been presented. Until Matthew, that is. So Caleb becomes influenced by external factors, indoctrined into the modern world, and falls into its obligatory performance roles. Now pushing thirty, Caleb finally experiences some good old fashioned teenage angst and tells his father to fuck off. That would have been so easy, but here's where the film gets really good. Caleb's "fuck off" comes in response to the revelation that Jim is probably not actually Caleb's father. So who is he telling to fuck off? Someone who plays the role of father. And on it goes from here, but my point is made and I do not wish to spoil the plot for those sensitive readers out there. Needless to say, the film is of fine craft and engaging insight, and does not cop out. No, not even with a "two years later" coda. Watch what Nealon does with that old cliche. It's a strong finish that pulls no punches, forthright challenging the meaning of biological lineage. I hope this is the start of a fruitful career for Nealon. Friday I took in a viewing of George Clooney's much heralded Good Night, and Good Luck. His previous directing effort, Confessions of a Dangerous Mind, was a stylish and enjoyable movie, if slight and forgettable, though I credit that unfortunate business to Charlie Kaufman, of whom I am no great fan. Nevertheless, Clooney displayed gusto, and his latest movie cements his status as the most desirable man in Hollywood. Or, I think so, anyways, because seriously - the man is sexy. He can act, direct, and maybe even write. And he's sexy. My favorite scenes in the movie center around the cast in the screening room, watching footage of interviews and McCarthy hearings and other related episodes. How about another admission: I am a student of history. I look to it for inspiration, information, and insight. It was a great decision to have McCarthy play himself, so to speak, through archive footage, for it affords these wonderful moments when the cast is in that screening room. Those images resonate most potently; they are, for me, the heart of the film. For here we have actors, George Clooney among them, sitting around in a room, watching history, and asking: "What does this mean?" What does it mean for these characters, in this period of time. And what does it mean for us, now, the actors in the movie and the audience itself, watching this movie. What does history tell us? It surprises me to have heard people speak of this movie as an allegory, to question its validity as a commentary on the Bush administration. People have done such things with V for Vendetta, as well. They have claimed there is no relationship between the McCarthy era and today. First, this is to miss the point. Second, this is history, and as such never ceases to be relevant. Do we really believe our governments to be honest? Do we really believe the television news gives us all the facts? I think Clooney's intent (oh, God forbid I speak of authorial intent) is justified, for too blindly today do people listen to their governments, too blindly today do people swallow their television news. Too blind, today, is the news. Ah, now we have it, I think. But history is history, and we are bound to repetition. So, alas, what is the point? Well, who will speak up? We know the what and the why. We are waiting for the when, the who, the how. Clooney and his cast of actors are in the screening room, waiting for the when, the who, the how. I find the wait rather satisfying. This is history, and I say revel in it.