Manic

Following a fight which left his classmate with 50 stitches to the head, Lyle (Levitt) finds himself admitted to a juvenile ward of a private psychiatric facility.

The new admission's fellow patients are being treated for a variety of conditions: Chad (played by co-screenwriter Michael Bacall) suffers from an acute manic-depressive disorder; the self-mutilating Tracy (Deschanel) wakes up screaming in the night; tough-guy Mike (Henson) asserts himself through violence; and the shy, diminutive Kenny (Lightning) has been sexually abused by a family member.

The clinic's psychologist Dr Monroe (Cheadle) attempts to get these troubled individuals to explore their feelings and to take responsibility for their actions in group therapy sessions.

Is it ever going to be possible for them to find real meaning in their chaotic existences?

Shot with a powerful immediacy on handheld digital video, the debut feature of director Jordan Melamed is a US indie which borrows from the spirit of the best Dogme films.

There's little in the way of a conventional story here - just a powerful concentration on character and atmosphere.

Set almost entirely within the confines of a psychiatric ward (where shoelaces are removed in case of attempted suicides), the film steers clear of the phony redemption offered by the likes of "Girl, Interrupted" and "Good Will Hunting".

Partly through some astute editing, Melamed conveys the strange rhythms of institutional life for these adolescents: the sense of boredom and frustration is mixed with frenetic bursts of energy, whether on the basketball court or in a slamdance trashing of the recreational room.

The dialogue is often biting - "Do you think being black is talking **** and wearing baggy clothes?" Monroe asks white B-Boy Mike.

The performances are also impressively convincing, while the ambiguous ending is in keeping with the rest of this edgy, sincere drama.

There wasn't a soul working on this film who did not produce brilliant, genuinely communicative work that demonstrates exactly what the art of filmmaking is at its very best. And it was only the very clear and obvious display of such tight creative genius at work that kept reminding me that this was actually a film instead of real life recorded at an institution by an inmate with an ever-intrusive video camera. In my life I have known youths suffering from the uncontrollable volatility of a rage as extreme as shown in the film, and just as justifiable as their defensive reaction to the powerful external forces that have waged against them their whole lives. When any biological creature, animal or human, is backed helpless and wounded into a corner, what solution is there other than to bare one's fangs and claws and fight to the death? What can really be done to help people like that get out of their trap, to reverse their ever-spinning deeper into themselves until they have irretrievably locked themselves into madness? From this film I can see why the same word, madness, is used to describe both anger and mental illness.

Lyle, the lead character vividly realized by actor Joseph Gordon-Levitt, was certainly mad, although his face ingeniously was always comported into an expression of a questioning sadness and resignation, like he was rather surprised that life had turned out to be this way. And he was violent, although for those who are squeamish, his violence was never really clearly shown face-on, but was revealed in an almost subliminal way via quick frames that suggested a fiery atmosphere of angry voices, relentless punches, and splatters of blood--this is the world he has lived in externally and now it demonizes his inner world. And the actor, even when at rest, continued to maintain the demeanor of a coiled spring so tightly wound that it was a wonder his body didn't implosively burst or rip itself apart like a case of tetanus. And yet he was entirely sympathetic, and the groundwork for that sympathy was laid the very first moment when we met him, getting his wounds dressed in a medical clinic. The camera moved behind him and casually revealed him sitting there in a hospital gown that had fallen open in the rear, revealing a vulnerable, skinny back its spinal cord nodules, a smooth back that perhaps his mother when he was a baby or a current lover ought to have soothingly and reassuringly rubbed, if only there had ever been someone who had actually loved him.

I wondered at an institution that so casually mixed up different patients with such diverse problems--the criminally violent with those who cut only themselves, or the changeably manic with those who have an almost invisible self-esteem, or, the relentlessly demeaning with those who are deeply suffering to the point of catatonia or austism. And yet it soon became clear that beyond the realistic and compassionate guidance of a truly dedicated counselor (played to standing-ovation intensity by Don Cheadle), the only hope for them was to be stimulated into opening their hearts to each other and in this way discovering meaning beyond their personal demons.

The patients in the adult ward separated from the youths by a chain-link fence seemed to be irretrievably lost; the freedom of the crows that soon became a symbol of flight out their tight corners for the youths, became only a mocking crowing absorbed by one of the adults. Madness in this institution metaphorically became a clear, legible story, such as the beautiful girl who hid herself behind black lipstick and heavy black eye-liner, or the boy who relentlessly tried to build a house of cards, and yet never seemed to manage to set up the first three.

Without a doubt one of the best scenes was a spontaneous mosh pit that erupted around the playing of a cassette of the Deftones. As I am at least one whole generation older than kids who would smash around in a mosh pit, it might be easy for me to be repelled by this kind of music and scene, and instead I am fascinated and can see how perfectly expressive and either dangerously visceral or benevolently cathartic such music really is and this scene in the film, which to me was like a ballet, was enlightening on many levels. Ultimately, it is clear that the suffering of these youths in the mental institution is metaphorical of the suffering that we all experience in real life and demands a relief of some kind--rage against the machine, indeed.

All in all, Manic is a movie for those who truly care about the craft of film, care about collaborative, creative skill that can come from a work of the heart, care about humanity's relief from suffering, and care about compassionate answers for otherwise seemingly unsolvable problems. For all these reasons, I highly recommend this film.

Put in the cinematic dustbin since its screening at Sundance in 2001, Jordan Melamed's Manic is deserving of an audience. It is an honest and touching film about the conflicts of life as seen by patients in Northwoods Mental Institution in California, a psychiatric hospital for adolescents. Brought to life by a brooding and intense performance by former Third Rock from the Sun star Joseph Gordon-Levitt as Lyle, a volatile teen ready to explode, Manic addresses important questions about violence and alienation among young people. Inspired by Albert Camus' "The Myth of Sisyphus," in which a Greek mythological figure is condemned forever to roll a boulder up an incline, only to watch it slide back down, the film questions whether people can find meaning in a seemingly absurd existence without melodrama or unconvincing epiphanies.

Lyle has been brought to the facility after brutally assaulting a boy with a baseball bat and the film is about his slow discovery of the reason he is there. Most of the film takes place within the psychiatric ward run by the life-affirming staff psychiatrist, Dr, David Monroe (Don Cheadle). Monroe wrestles with his own demons but treats the teens not as patients with labels but as human beings whose lives have meaning and value. The adolescents are hospitalized for assorted behavior problems and many have endured abuse and neglect at home. In addition to Lyle, the ward contains his bunkmate, 12-year old Kenny (Cody Lightning) a sullen Native American who is alleged to have molested younger children; Mike (Elden Henson), a volatile White rapper who pretends that he is black; Chad (co-writer Michael Bacall), a teen diagnosed with Bipolar illness; and rape victim Tracey (Zooey Deschanel), who wakes up screaming each night.

The teens have the same problems as many of their peers, only magnified beyond their endurance to cope. In researching the role Gordon-Levitt concluded that, "the patients are not some strange, alien beings. They are dealing with the same conflicts, struggles, and resolutions that we all have to deal with in life". Some of the acting is improvised but even when scripted, the film has a documentary feel to it. Shot in digital video, the hand held camera ratchets up the tension, capturing the pent-up emotions that are ready to explode at any moment -- in a basketball match, a pillow fight, or a fist-swinging free-for-all. While the camerawork increases the immediacy, its excessive use detracts from the power of the film, becoming intrusive and distracting.

Although our understanding of "mental illness" has changed in recent years, the treatment shown does not go much beyond pills or group therapy sessions. There is also no acknowledgment of alternative therapies such as Gestalt or Psychodrama that are geared to deal with this type of anger. David asks the patients to talk about why they are there but he cannot get them to go beyond victimization and have them feel responsible for themselves or each other. Indeed, most cannot articulate their pain or come to terms even with the fact that they need help. It is only when they see the sadness and extreme solitude of Van Gogh's last painting "Wheatfields With Crows" that the first awareness of mutual need begins to emerge.

This is a great movie, by a VERY talented first time director, which grabs you from the brilliant opening credit sequence and never lets go. This film works on so many different levels, I don't understand how it was so overlooked by the arthouse crowd.

The performances, the miniDV cinematography, the score( by Thurston Moore of Sonic Youth)...the script, about troubled teens, mostly with anger management and/or home abuse issues...it's all right on the money.

Kudos especially to Don Cheadle who's proved himself to be one of our greatest and most underappreciated actors. This one section of jump cuts where he's questioning the kids and finally questioning himself is as good a piece of acting as I've seen in a while.

Buy it or rent it...JUST WATCH IT. You won't be sorry.

"Manic" follows teenager Lyle (Joseph Gorden-Levitt) as he is sent into therapy to work on his serious anger management problem, having nearly killed a boy at his school with a baseball bat. The film follows his relationships within the small group, comprising of teenagers suffering mostly from depression or similar anger issues.

Similar to "thirteen" released a few years after this film, "Manic" was co-written by one of the teenagers (Michael Bacall) in the film (although presumably not from his own direct experiences) and this does give the script an authentic ring in terms of dialogue, subjects of discussion and a feel for contemporary American adolescence. Several genuine patients of similar therapy institutions play small roles here and the moments when they tell, presumably true stories, do lend an authentic feel. Unfortunately, the film never quite takes off dramatically. It's too stuck in 'realism' to turn into an outright escape narrative such as "One Flew..." or "Girl, interrupted".

Lyle makes plans to escape and dreams of travelling to Europe but it never forms a central plot to the film. Similarly a tentative romance with a girl in the group, Tracey (the marvellous Zooey Deschanel) is downplayed. There are strong sub-plots, such as an ongoing feud with gangster wannabee Michael (a very good Elden Henson) but the film doesn't address the fundamental issues in these kids lives preferring to just address the direct group dymanics rather than digging deeper. In fact the most distressing story is of Kenny, Lyle's quiet room-mate, who it turns out was abused by his apparently normal, caring father. Holding the film together is a fantastic Don Cheadle, as Dr Monroe, the compassionate yet strict group leader. Cheadle manages to give a layered performance that shows an obvious connection to the kids in his care, professional skill at helping them, a mild touch of cynicism as to the extent people really can change and hints of battling problems of his own.

It's an understandable decision not to over-dramatise events but by playing straight the film risks drifting into banality. The decision not to investigate in more depth the way the US, and Western world, relies on medication to control such teenagers is also a missed opportunity.

The intrusive, mostly close-up DV filming does give that documentary feel to some extent, otherwise it's a little excessively jittery and some may find it distracting from the story and characters, rather than adding an emotional subjectivity.

I would give this film a lower score but the performances by the majority of the cast are first class and there are some very emotional moments and scenarios. Gordon Levitt seems to be favouring these kind of messed up teenager roles and his performance is convincing. Zooey Descchanel yet again proves herself the best young actress around in a demanding role and as mentioned, Don Cheadle near steals the film and provides a much needed strong central foundation in an otherwise dramatically and thematically uncertain script.