We're not always who we think we are
George (Allesandro Nivola), a successful and obviously well-to-do buyer is at an outsider art auction when he meets the woman who, one week later, will become his wife. Madeleine (Embeth Davidtz), the gallery owner and soon-to-be wife of George, asks him about a painting he is gazing fondly at: "Do you like it?" she says, hoping in her sophisticated, big-city, English-accented way to open a path for flirting. "It makes me happy," returns George, "but I'm going to buy the UFO."
That exchange sums up the premise of Junebug, a film by Phil Morrison, written by Angus MacLachlan. This is a film about what makes a family, and what parts of that family make us who we really are. It is also about the masks we don when our families aren't around, and the deceptions we portray. George and Madeleine, six months after meeting, are traveling to North Carolina to see his family, and to chase the star of an outsider artist that Madeline's scouts have discovered for her. The artist is obsessed with pain, bleeding scrotums and large, exploding penises, set against the background of mystic revelations and the Civil War. Madeleine, sensing greatness, has to have his works in her gallery. George doesn't seem as interested in the art, but the artist finds a focus in his face, and promises to put him in a painting. When the deal is verbally consummated, George and Madeleine move on to meet his family: his prickly mother, Peg, his withdrawn father, Eugene, his angry brother, Johnny and his effervescent, half-baked sister-in-law, Ashley. They all live together in a spotless middle-class shoe avoiding most interactions with each other until George and Madeleine arrive. Ashley is hugely pregnant, and so hungry for company that she nearly overwhelms Madeleine with constant talk, questions, observations and her seemingly unstoppable rose-colored viewpoint. Peg is polite, but distant and wary. Eugene is barely present at all, stalking the edges of scenes silently. Johnny is downright hostile.
Madeleine, wishing only to please this oddball group, answers any of their questions, and offers to help anyone with whatever she can but she soon finds she isn't needed or wanted except by Ashley. She uncovers one surprise after another about her new husband, and begins to wonder just who it was she married, since he seems so different here at home. She's distracted, however, by her involvement with the outsider artist she's made a deal with; she finds out his sister has other plans for his artwork, and must act to stop him signing with a dealer in New York, rather than her Chicago gallery. Even here, in her own circle of competence, she finds that she has to learn to step differently and react differently than she is used to. The effect this has on her is profoundly unsettling.
Although the action follows Madeleine for the most part, centering most of the pertinent scenes around her and her reactions, this film is really about George and what he really is, and how his wife is going to have to deal with it if she truly loves him and wants to make her new marriage work. She sees he isn't who she thought he was, and may have different ideas altogether than the ones she supposed he had.
What is on the surface of the actions portrayed by these characters, and what is actually taking place underneath are sometimes two very different things. We discover that Ashley, for all her bubble-gummy, teenybopper ways, is actually thoughtful, conscientious and desperately lonely for her husband and the love she had once with him. Johnny, all hostile prickles and sudden storming-outs, is just terrified of not being good enough. Peg, cold on the outside, is warm and hopeful beneath the scales, and Eugene, whom one might assume had no interest in anything except his wood shop in the basement, has a great deal of wisdom and insight to offer, if you can dig it out of him. And George is a star. He knows he is a star. The church people, the neighbors, and most especially his family, think he is the one who "made it." They are critical of Madeline for not being good enough for George, and not being able to see his star-quality, even though Eugene assures them she will eventually realize it because she loves him. Though the family at first impression may seem like incomplete yokels, it really is Madeline who may indeed fall short of what George needs. When a tragedy befalls the family during their visit, it is George who lifts them all up out of their despair, and Madeline who holds back. It is George they turn to, and George they idolize, and Madeline may never make the cut.
Madeline realizes that she has these shortcomings, and tries to make up for it, but it is probably already too late. We are left with a question mark that wasn't there in the beginning; one that will need many more encounters to erase, or negate, if it ever can be erased or negated. She has married someone who appeared to be happy where he was, and then she finds out he can also be happy when he is someone else entirely. In the end, it is not his family's equilibrium that has become unbalanced, by her invasive presence, it is hers. Even when she returns to the outsider artist to finalize her gallery offer, she discovers something about this husband of hers that she didn't know, and could not have predicted.
This film is finely crafted, with wonderfully subtle and multi-layered performances by all the main actors. Amy Adams, in particular, manages to infuse the character of Ashley with stunning depth and humanity. One of the best films of 2005.
That exchange sums up the premise of Junebug, a film by Phil Morrison, written by Angus MacLachlan. This is a film about what makes a family, and what parts of that family make us who we really are. It is also about the masks we don when our families aren't around, and the deceptions we portray. George and Madeleine, six months after meeting, are traveling to North Carolina to see his family, and to chase the star of an outsider artist that Madeline's scouts have discovered for her. The artist is obsessed with pain, bleeding scrotums and large, exploding penises, set against the background of mystic revelations and the Civil War. Madeleine, sensing greatness, has to have his works in her gallery. George doesn't seem as interested in the art, but the artist finds a focus in his face, and promises to put him in a painting. When the deal is verbally consummated, George and Madeleine move on to meet his family: his prickly mother, Peg, his withdrawn father, Eugene, his angry brother, Johnny and his effervescent, half-baked sister-in-law, Ashley. They all live together in a spotless middle-class shoe avoiding most interactions with each other until George and Madeleine arrive. Ashley is hugely pregnant, and so hungry for company that she nearly overwhelms Madeleine with constant talk, questions, observations and her seemingly unstoppable rose-colored viewpoint. Peg is polite, but distant and wary. Eugene is barely present at all, stalking the edges of scenes silently. Johnny is downright hostile.
Madeleine, wishing only to please this oddball group, answers any of their questions, and offers to help anyone with whatever she can but she soon finds she isn't needed or wanted except by Ashley. She uncovers one surprise after another about her new husband, and begins to wonder just who it was she married, since he seems so different here at home. She's distracted, however, by her involvement with the outsider artist she's made a deal with; she finds out his sister has other plans for his artwork, and must act to stop him signing with a dealer in New York, rather than her Chicago gallery. Even here, in her own circle of competence, she finds that she has to learn to step differently and react differently than she is used to. The effect this has on her is profoundly unsettling.
Although the action follows Madeleine for the most part, centering most of the pertinent scenes around her and her reactions, this film is really about George and what he really is, and how his wife is going to have to deal with it if she truly loves him and wants to make her new marriage work. She sees he isn't who she thought he was, and may have different ideas altogether than the ones she supposed he had.
What is on the surface of the actions portrayed by these characters, and what is actually taking place underneath are sometimes two very different things. We discover that Ashley, for all her bubble-gummy, teenybopper ways, is actually thoughtful, conscientious and desperately lonely for her husband and the love she had once with him. Johnny, all hostile prickles and sudden storming-outs, is just terrified of not being good enough. Peg, cold on the outside, is warm and hopeful beneath the scales, and Eugene, whom one might assume had no interest in anything except his wood shop in the basement, has a great deal of wisdom and insight to offer, if you can dig it out of him. And George is a star. He knows he is a star. The church people, the neighbors, and most especially his family, think he is the one who "made it." They are critical of Madeline for not being good enough for George, and not being able to see his star-quality, even though Eugene assures them she will eventually realize it because she loves him. Though the family at first impression may seem like incomplete yokels, it really is Madeline who may indeed fall short of what George needs. When a tragedy befalls the family during their visit, it is George who lifts them all up out of their despair, and Madeline who holds back. It is George they turn to, and George they idolize, and Madeline may never make the cut.
Madeline realizes that she has these shortcomings, and tries to make up for it, but it is probably already too late. We are left with a question mark that wasn't there in the beginning; one that will need many more encounters to erase, or negate, if it ever can be erased or negated. She has married someone who appeared to be happy where he was, and then she finds out he can also be happy when he is someone else entirely. In the end, it is not his family's equilibrium that has become unbalanced, by her invasive presence, it is hers. Even when she returns to the outsider artist to finalize her gallery offer, she discovers something about this husband of hers that she didn't know, and could not have predicted.
This film is finely crafted, with wonderfully subtle and multi-layered performances by all the main actors. Amy Adams, in particular, manages to infuse the character of Ashley with stunning depth and humanity. One of the best films of 2005.
- shecrab
- Jan 18, 2006