“Love and Mercy” manages to be both sad and uplifting, ugly and beautiful all at once.

Full disclosure. I have been a Beach Boys fan since I was a child. I blame my father as I was born in the early 80s and thus was not even alive yet during the height of their popularity. I found their music to be fun, upbeat and enormously catchy. As I got older, I came across the odd article or piece of information that talked about Brian Wilson’s battle with mental illness. (The Barenaked Ladies’ song “Brian Wilson” to name just one). I didn’t know much about it, but it didn’t surprise me that he had suffered. Many geniuses are known for the inner demons they fight.

I will admit that I do love biopics as well (despite the fact that they are usually ridiculously formulaic). I enjoy seeing a fictionalized tale about how that person “came up” and achieved fame. Usually the messier, the better. Most biopics tend to focus on the drugs, excesses and other extremes that challenged or destroyed the person’s career. If they died of an overdose, you can bet your ass the film will focus mainly on their struggles with drugs, or drinking and little else.

“Love and Mercy” could have gone that route – there is enough drug use and excess in Wilson’s past to warrant it surely. However, this film decided to take a different approach and I thought doing so made it quite brilliant. Instead of the familiar linear approach (we see their childhood, their break into fame, the trials, challenges, drugs, and finally their death), we got to see the struggles Wilson faced through two very pivotal points in his life. One of those points was in the 60s while he wrote the critically acclaimed album “Pet Sounds” and the other was in the late 80s as he was struggling to break free from his controlling psychiatrist Eugene Landy (Paul Giamatti) and mental demons. What makes it even more interesting is that during these two periods, Wilson is played by two separate actors – Paul Dano in the 60s and John Cusack in the 80s.

The film shifts between these two points. It shows us the beginnings of his troubled mind. The earlier part of his life, shows us the frantic need that Wilson seemed to have to “get his music out” and the unique way he approached song writing. It paints him as an artist first and foremost who cared about the music before the hit records (much to the chagrin of his own band). It showed us the beginnings of the voices he heard, the paranoia, the unravelling of his marriage, the difficulties with his abusive father and his introduction to psychotropic drugs.

The second point we see of Wilson is (as said before) in the late 80s. While Dano showed us a focused and very driven Wilson, Cusack’s older version of Wilson is subdued, unsure of himself and almost childlike. We first see him in a car dealership attempting to buy a Cadillac. He attracts the interest of the sales clerk Melinda (Elizabeth Banks), who is drawn to his non sequitors and his transparent need to talk to someone. They have a short and fairly sweet exchange until his psychiatrist Eugene Landy shows up and takes control of the situation. He orders the purchase of the car and whisks Brian away from her, but not before he leaves her a note on a piece of paper that reads “Lonely, scared, frightened”.

The more modern plot revolves around their budding romance and Melinda coming to terms not only with Brian’s mental illness, but also with the fact that Landy is using him and over medicating him. It culminates in her and his close friends launching a lawsuit against him to remove Landy from his life (as he was Wilson’s designated legal guardian at that point).

It’s a beautiful and moving story about two people who fall in love despite crazy obstacles. It doesn’t shy away from Wilson’s battle with mental health problems, and although it largely omits the period in his life where his drug use and issues destroyed his marriage and almost ruined his life, it doesn’t shy away from the fact that there is a darker side to Wilson. He takes responsibility for his earlier mistakes. In a way it seems that his allowance of Landy to thoroughly run his life was a direct response to all the things he had done in his past. As if allowing someone else full control could erase it all.

The Good:

1. The music. There isn’t a ton of it in the film. Most biopics focus heavily on the music of the artist to the point where you might as well have just downloaded their greatest hits rather than watch the movie. That doesn’t happen here. We don’t get full songs, we get clips. Odd bits and pieces of the music that are used very specifically to give us insight into where Wilson was at this point in his head. Most of the clips played come from the “Pet Sounds” album and Wilson’s creation of it. It’s frustrating at times to head only the backing track or a small sample of Wilson singing the song at his piano, but it is also refreshing not to be subjected to a 2 hour long music video. The music chosen is beautiful, powerful or simply happy to listen to. You cannot listen to “Good Vibrations” without smiling (seriously, try it. It’s NOT possible.) Director Bill Pohlad was very particular in what music he chose for the film, and it’s very effective.
2. Two Brians. It’s an odd choice for a biopic. Generally film makers rely on age make up, hair style and clothing changes to show the passage of time. Occasionally they get a different child actor if they are going that far back, but usually they stick with one actor to portray the character. There’s only 20 years between the two “Brians” but VERY different experiences have made them almost completely different men. I was skeptical about the decision, fearing it would take you out of the movie to see two different actors as the same character, but instead it does the opposite. Seeing Paul Dano’s portrayal gives a very interesting nuance to John Cusack’s interpretation. They seem to walk the same way and have the same physical characteristics which helps make both their performances more believable. Each of the actors brings out a different side to Wilson in his portrayal and adds to the beauty and tone of the story.
3. Elizabeth Banks and Paul Giamatti. Both give brilliant performances here. Banks as love interest Melinda comes across as wary, but intrigued, empathetic and compassionate and horrified at the life that Wilson is living. She comes across as someone who doesn’t care about his past fame or wealth. Material possessions are not important in fact, they seem to make her slightly uncomfortable. She cares for Wilson, but doesn’t want to be another person in his life sucking him dry. Their scenes together are sweet and awkward in equal measure. Both are damaged individuals just trying to find something in the other person worth holding onto. Paul Giamatti is also an inspired choice. From the second he appears on the screen we can sense something is deeply off. His outbursts and controlling behavior come across as beyond creepy. He is intense, magnetic and chilling in this role.
4. The Structure. It’s a unique way to tell a story. Two fixed points in time, rather than a beginning, middle and end. It’s simple and uncluttered but tells us more about Brian Wilson than we might have otherwise gotten in a film bogged down by changes in decades, excessive drug montages and other trappings of a biopic. At the heart of the film is its emotional core and structuring it this way allows the director to strip it down to its bare bones.

The Bad:

1. I honestly can’t think of anything. I really loved this movie.

This is one of those few movies that will stay with you long after you come out of the theatre. It will make you said, and happy at the same time. It will make you want to go home and download all of the Beach Boy’s music and listen to it all at once.

Lee Daniels’ “The Butler” is an incredibly well written and well acted tour though 20th century black history.

 

The civil rights movement is a period in history that has been examined many times in different films, from the recent Jackie Robinson biopic “42” to earlier efforts like “To Kill A Mockingbird”. In many cases, these films have been deeply moving examinations of what it was like to be African American living in a very difficult period of modern history. However, there is a tendency for some film makers to exploit this period of history for the sake of making poorly written, over the top, emotionally melodramatic “Oscar-bait” blockbusters.

“The Butler” certainly could have fallen into that category were it not for the fine writing, direction and superb performances by the principal cast.

It is a film based on a true story about a man named Eugene Allen who worked as a Butler for the Whitehouse for several American Presidents beginning with Eisenhower and ending with the Regan Administration. Through his unique position, we see the events of the civil rights movement unfold. But it’s less of a story about the major events in history, and more of a story about a man, his family and the struggle to find his identity as a person and as a black American during a very turbulent period.

Though a lot of dramatic license was taken with the personal details on the character, apparently everything shot in the White House actually happened.

The film follows the character (re-named) Cecil Gains from his humble beginnings as a “house negro” in the late 1920s. We watch as he obtains a position working for a wealthy hotel company, and then eventually a position as a Butler for President Eisenhower.

Through his position as Butler, Gains is able to provide a comfortable life for his wife and two young boys – something not many African Americans were able to do in the 1950s. They are not rich, but well off enough that Gains is able to pay for his oldest son Louis’ University education.

His son leaves for University right at the time the civil rights movement really starts to heat up and despite his father’s fears, he is soon deeply embroiled within the movement itself – a confident of Doctor Martin Luther King’s, despite his father’s objections.

As it spans his life, and various presidents we see how Gains deals with the challenges of the events unfolding around him as well as his marital difficulties, growing estrangement from his son, death of his other son and his own reconciliation on what it means to be a black man in the United States.

I truly enjoyed the way this story was told. It took these massively life changing events and gave them focus – a lens with which we could view them through and come to our own conclusions. In many ways, we the viewer are in the same position as Cecil is – watching and observing but not interacting with the events that are occurring.

The Good:

1. Forrest Whittaker’s performance. He was outstanding in this film. His portrayal of Cecil Gains was understated, yet incredibly powerful. As a “house negro”, his character is taught early on to adopt “two faces” when serving. One is the face that he shows when doing his job – the other, the truth of who he is. There are moments during the film in which Gains stands behind watching as various Presidents make decisions that directly inform or shape his life, and family’s future. Some of these decisions are quite impactful (specifically one in particular in which Nixon orders that the members of the Black Panthers – a radical Black power group that his son had become involved with – be hunted down). He manages to make the audience feel his pain and anguish, while at the same time maintaining that “mask”.
2. Oprah Winfrey’s performance. Absent from acting for quite a while, Winfrey makes her presence felt here in a big way. Her character could easily have come across as intensely unlikeable. She spends a good part of the movie unhappy with her husband’s long hours, and even has a brief affair with their sleazy neighbour out of frustration and anger at her husband. Still, Winfrey manages to convey a sense of humanity in her character that keeps her from coming across in too negative a light. She shows us the portrait of a woman who is undoubtedly flawed, but also someone who is dealing with real pain and heartache and is ultimately sympathetic. Neither one of the characters is demonized and that is entirely down to the strength of the performances.
3. The father/son dynamic. Ultimately the film is a ‘who’s who’ of major events in history. But the main draw is less in line with the major historical events and more tied into the smaller, more intimate struggles between Gains and his oldest son Louis. The contrast between the two sons is juxtaposed with the idea of the Butler having two ‘faces’. Gains’ behaviour throughout the film is unassuming and hopeful. He sits back throughout the civil rights movement, allowing the events to unfold around him. He wants change, and hopes for it, but doesn’t want to be the one in the middle of the turmoil, making it happen. He is the face of the serving man. Docile and placid, not allowing you to see what goes on beneath the surface. His son Louis on the other hand, is the metaphor for the struggle within – the struggle I suspect every African American felt at least to some extent during the period. Against his father’s wishes, he involves himself very heavily in the civil rights movement, refusing to sit back and wait for change. He gets himself arrested, is beaten and abused, but still he presses on. The unrest between him and his father, mirrors the turmoil Gains likely feels as he wrestles to come to terms with what he believes. It isn’t until the end of the film when Gains is taken out of the serving man’s role and is allowed to see what he looks like from the outside (as he is invited to a State dinner by President Regan as a guest, not a servant), that he begins to realize just how he feels about his place as an African American. It is only then that he can reconcile those two sides of himself – and begin to repair the relationship with his son.
4. The supporting cast – particularly Cuba Gooding Jr. and Lenny Kravitz. Fantastic performances from them as well – definitely worth noting.
5. The use of music and costuming, as well as age make-up. The decades and passage of time was observed quite well through these techniques. Music was used sparingly but was done well when it was used (often times with films like that, the soundtrack just overwhelms the film in an attempt to signify or establish the decade). Ditto for costuming. I was relieved at how well the age make up was done, as usually this is the first thing that takes me “out” of a film. Age make up is incredibly difficult to make believable (especially if the actor is MUCH younger than the age they are portraying) so it is something I am quite wary of and was done well here I think.

The Bad:

1. The revolving “cast” of Presidents. Don’t get me wrong, I love the actors that made appearances in this film as various Presidents – but not in these roles. I feel that too many MAJOR names in these parts detracted from the ‘realism’ of it and ultimately made it feel less authentic. I especially feel this because most of these actors bore a barely passing resemblance to the men they were supposed to be playing. Robin Williams was OK as Eisenhower (though again looked nothing like him). John Cusack was terrible as President Nixon, ditto for James Marsden as Kennedy. They came across more as silly caricatures than actual depictions of U.S. Presidents. Much as I love Alan Rickman, his attempt at an American accent and portrayal of Ronald Regan was almost embarrassing. The only real possible exception to this would be Leiv Schreiber’s portrayal of President Johnson. It felt like they hired these big names to up the star count and for no other reason.

 

Ultimately, I felt it was an excellent film that managed to showcase a powerful moment in modern history and do so authentically. We are invited to experience the emotions and events as the character does and through his eyes which is a very unique perspective.