tyoder

Clearly this is a polarizing film. And clearly there are plenty on both end of the opinion spectrum who are guilty of being obnoxious and needlessly inflammatory.

I definitely feel that this is a subtly brilliant work. Cronenberg is an eccentric, intellectual talent who likes to challenge his audience. Many moviegoers resent being challenged, finding it non-entertaining, even anti-entertainment. Call it elitism if you like, but savvier viewers are more likely to understand and enjoy this picture. I'm not one of those snobs who feels that if people only understood a smart film then they'd naturally enjoy it. However, one cannot help but note that those more likely to understand it are more likely to enjoy it, and that those who hate it make it abundantly clear in voicing their opinions that they didn't get the film at all. (And their atrocious spelling and egregious grammar don't help either.) Perhaps if the film's detractors would drop their defenses and do a little reading on it, they'd open their minds enough to at least appreciate if not outright enjoy this film more. Rotten Tomatoes is a great link (http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/history_of_violence/), and the Chicago Reader's response seems most salient to me, to wit: "Cronenberg isn't engaging in parody or irony. Nor is he nihilistically pandering to our worst impulses: the film-making is too measured and too intelligent. He implicitly respects us and our responses, even when those responses are silly or disturbing." Hear, hear! Cronenberg is masterful enough to embrace ambiguity and make us feel conflicting emotions simultaneously. He's entered Fellini territory in that regard (though, of course, he's stylistically worlds away from the Maestro). I'm sorry, but those who charge him with amateurism are indeed "not getting it". This entire film is in line with the third act of Spike Jonze's ADAPTATION--ostensibly straightforward storytelling thoroughly bolstered by sardonic self-examination. Committed text and subversive subtext working with each other by counterintuitively working against each other to synergistically create a dimensional portrait of America's attitude toward violence.

His composition, lighting, lensing, pacing and editing are evidence of a truly self-trusting filmmaker at work: each uneasy--almost queasy--image (especially closeups) of quotidian bucolicism is positively pregnant with dreadful possibility, such that it forces the audience along with the characters to question fundamental assumptions about day-to-day living. What is real? What can one rely on? These queries suffuse Cronenberg's signaturist style.

Some middle-brows mistakenly think that such filmmakers as he are snidely asking, "Can you keep up?" when in fact he (and they) are enthusiastically proclaiming, "You can keep up! Come along! Try!"

Yes, the ending is abrupt, rather like a sex act cut off at the height of climax. Who doesn't also want that slide down from orgasm and the tingling afterglow? The essence of an ending is there, but storytelling is about explicating, delineating the specific, sensual details, including that of resolution. Usually I like ambiguous endings--when they're appropriate to the text and theme--because they commend my intelligence; but this time it leaves the viewer unsatisfied and seems like an arthouse pretense.

A shame since this film offers so much in texture, cinematography, subtle characterizations, good acting, and nuanced metaphors that lift it above not only made-for-TV dramas but most modern cinema as well, sadly. Note the driveway exchange when Alex meets Sarah and asks, "Did I leave you enough room?" Consider the house in the valley whose owner tells her how happy he and his wife were there and how he'd like to see Alex and her husband enjoy it as well; later Alex reports to Sam that another couple got to it first. Recall Jane's "AC/DC" t-shirt that Alex wears after the night in the pool. How about the opening sex scene which portrays Alex as very sexually responsive and Sam as slow on the pop, so to speak. And, of course, the remote-control boat Sam sees at the end.

McDormand is fine, as always: bracing and unapologetic in the fullness of her personhood, both as the character and as a performer beyond. Bale and Beckinsale are believable as self-controlled academicians who logically become engaged and find that self-control and logic does not equal self-knowledge and happiness. McElhone's character seems underwritten, but her seductive beauty delivers the point of Sam's temptation. And in mousy-librarian-unleashed terms, Beckinsale delivers the eye-candy.

This film is worth your while, but you have to watch it--REALLY watch it. Watch everything in it. Usually one has to view foreign films to receive so much storytelling value per scene, per shot, per line of dialogue. It just lacks that ending--that top bun on an otherwise splendid sandwich, if you will--to take the viewer home. I wanted to see what choice Sam made and the emotional repercussions for Alex who had awakened to so much within her. Screenwriting teachers will tell you to end your story as quickly as possible after climax, but this movie proves an extreme and ill-considered example of that notion. Granted, a dragged-out denouement such as in "The Lord of the Rings III: The Return of the King" is a too-long goodbye, but there's a happy medium.

I look forward to Lisa Cholodenko's next project. Hopefully, she won't jet out the door so quickly.