Movie
Review: The Ballad of Jack and Rose
By
William Sternman
-------------------------------------
The
Ballad of Jack and Rose
Starring Daniel Day-Lewis and Catherine Keener
Written and Directed by Rebecca Miller
I
didn’t understand anything about this movie, starting with Daniel
Day-Lewis’ porridge-thick Scottish accent. Every time he opened
his mouth, he seemed to be putting his left foot in it.
It’s
1986, see, and Jack (Day-Lewis) is an overage hippie who is still living
in his now-deserted commune and still shooting up housing developments
that threaten to ruin his pristine wetlands island.
Although
the whole idea of forming a commune was to live in almost early Christian
simplicity in communion with nature and to reject all the materialist
trappings of the corrupt establishment, Jack prefers to live off the
fortune his industrialist father left him. (Never let principles stand
in the way of convenience.) Give the man his due—he’s a
vegetarian and he generates his own electricity with wind towers, but
he also tools around the island in a polluting gas-guzzler.
Worst
of all, in a quintessential act of selfishness, if not psychological
incest, this dying man lives alone with his teenage daughter, Rose (Camilla
Belle). After he’s gone, she’ll be left to cope with an
outside world she has never been exposed to. (Those narcissistic enough
to think they are superior to the rest of mankind often end up taking
others down with them.)
One
of the tenets of hippiedom was that you could never trust anyone over
30. (It never seemed to occur to them that one day they too might cross
over.) Now decidedly over 30, Jack proves the truth of that shibboleth.
A survivor of the tell-it-like-it-is generation, Jack failed to tell
Rose he’s been having an affair in town with the mother (Catherine
Keener) of two grown boys (Ryan McDonald, Paul Dano). Without preparing
his daughter, he brings them all home to live with him and Rose. It’s
an experiment, he explains. (So was Harry Harlow’s cloth-mother
demonstration, but at least a few of the monkeys got something of value
out of it.)
Hippie
flower power finally comes into its own in a house burning that reminded
me of nothing so much as an Indian sati with a hint, perhaps, of Vietnam
War Buddhist-monk self-immolation thrown in for good measure. Frankly,
my only concern was that the resident copperhead (don’t ask; I’ve
been sworn to secrecy) got out alive.
In
a two-years-later coda, we see Rose working happily in the flower shop
of a straight-arrow friend who had previously refused to give into her
request to teach her how to kiss because he wasn’t romantically
attracted to her. Jason Lee is charming in the part, but he isn’t
the same quirky guy I remember from Chasing Amy.
I
guess this happy ending is supposed to send us out of the theater humming
the scenery or something, but die-hard Freudian that I am, I didn’t
believe it for a minute. Not after that suck-face kiss.
Despite
soundtrack over-reinforcement by the likes of Bob Dylan, I just couldn’t
buy into this paean to New Age individualism. (A movie really ought
to be able to stand on its own two feet without gratuitous and involuntary
endorsements from period icons.) None of the characters really comes
to life as a full-blown (several puns intended here) person, except,
oddly enough, McDonald, who unlike Dano, is only interested in doing
Rose’s hair. There are hints of complexity, self-awareness and
vulnerability here that make him intriguing as well as believable.
Beau
Bridges, as the developer, is set up to be the straw-man villain of
the piece, but in the face-off between him and Day-Lewis he comes off
as more reasonable, if less idealistic.
Writer-director
Rebecca Miller is the daughter of playwright Arthur Miller as well as
Day-Lewis's wife. The father did much better by his second wife, Marilyn
Monroe (not Rebecca's mother), with his screenplay for her last movie,
The Misfits, than the daughter has done by her husband with
this off-key ballad. Maybe it doesn't run in the family after all.
-------------------------------------
William
Sternman's short stories have been published in England, Hungary, Pakistan,
South Africa, Australia, New Zealand and Japan, as well as the U.S.
His book and movie reviews have appeared in Audience, Films in
Review, Bestsellers, The Drummer, The Philadelphia Inquirer, The Houston
Chronicle, The Boston Herald, The St. Petersburg Times and www.movie-vault.com.
He has been a volunteer tutor at the Center for Literacy since 1998.
He received a fellowship grant in literature from the Pennsylvania Council
on the Arts.
©
2005 Me Three