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One wouldn't normally expect a 2-1/2 immersion
into alienation, denial, anxiety, emotional withdrawl, neurosis,
and extreme sexual dysfunction to wind up as a laceratingly
vicious, resonant, and painfully funny comedy, but Todd Solondz'
ironically titled "Happiness", despite its problems,
succeeds in its singleminded attempt to provoke and expose its
own audience's weaknesses. An multi-character ensemble piece with
various loosely connected storylines, the only common theme of
which seems to be the futility of the quest for urban
self-gratification, "Happiness" opens according to
formula, introducing each consecutive character and making
gradually revealing their plotlines and intrapersonal
connections, in some innocuously profane and funny scenes. But
Solondz ups the ante by slowly offering increasingly disturbing
information: Naive, lonely Joy, a 30-yr-old living at home who
wants to be a folksinger has two sisters, one a promiscuous,
unfulfilled writer who lives next door to a repellant,
emotionally stunted obscene-phone-caller, and the other a deluded
and empty housewife married to the therapist who treats the
phone-caller, and who also turns out to be a pederast. And so on,
so forth. Solondz takes a gamble by presenting what's certainly
the most vile character of all (though each and every one is
seriously damaged in one form or another), the as the moral
center of the piece: while everyone is constantly repeating the
mantra "I'm Fine!" to each other when their inner
voices are saying things like "I wish I'd been raped as a
child, it would give me some authenticity", the child rapist
himself desperatly tries to tell those closest to him that he's
sick (to which he's told "Take a Tylenol, honey, you'll feel
better); Each character degrades themselves and others searching
for intimacy, but the rapist, in one devastatingly honest scene,
chooses his love for his son over his own sexual gratification.
Extremely touchy stuff, and Solondz is only
half to the task of pulling it off. The film is at its best when
it's most acutely observant; Solondz effectively displays the
pain and helpless isolation of divorce among the elderly (until
he trots out Marla Maples as a plasticine real-estate agent), for
example, and a quiet desperation suffuses the entire film. But
his one-note air of ironic detatchment (the only moments of
genuine contact in the film are slathered with the canned
schmaltz of Air Supply and Debbi Boone) wears thin. Some jokes
fall flat and entire characters should have been trimmed from the
script, but still there's some amazingly acerbic and refreshingly
brash, challenging and rich material here that works mostly
because of his pitch-perfect ensemble cast all of whom encourage
identification in the most unlikely of sorts: Jane Adams'
ignorant do-gooder Joy ("I'm not a scab, I'm a
strike-breaker!") is pathetic and heartbreaking. Philip
Seymour Hoffman nearly runs away with the film as the disgusting,
sexually immature phone-caller by simultaneously displaying his
wretchedness and his personal indignance towards his social
ostracization. But the heart of the film is Dylan Baker's
astounding creation in the plum role as the
family-man/therapist/'serial rapist pervert'. To Solondz' credit,
the character is only presented as a matter-of-fact, never
sympathetically or as a simple monster. Baker's humanization is a
fascinating virtuoso tightrope act, and he grounds the film
despite the odds with his nuance and complexity. This is a risky
piece that will undoubtedly ellicit some wildly diverse responses
from audiences, but then that's the idea, I suppose, and while
Solondz has a few films to go before he hits his stride, there's
more than a few glimpses of something rare and exciting at work
here. There's a nice moment towards the end of the film between
two of the sisters that that seems to serve as a
director/audience surrogate: the jaded, empty one with a degree
of media success (Solondz) tells the idealistic but isolated and
naive one (audience) "I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing
with you", to which the naif responds "But I'm not
laughing". That's it in a nutshell. Only you will laugh. But
fierce.
Review Commentary:
12961
. cllrdr - Oct. 31, 1998 - 9:10 PM PT
Todd Solondz used to be a "Filmex"
go-fer and hung out the Los Angeles County Museum a lot. Very
creey. About ten years ago he got a bidding war started between
several studios over a script with options to develop more. Not
all that difficult a trick to pull off given the atmosphere in
the suites in those days. The project ended up as his first film,
"Fear, Anxiety and Depression," which I reviewed for
"Daily Variety." Unfavorably. It was barely released.
"Welcome to the Dollhouse" is his comeback vehicle --
though he'd rather it be seen as his debut film. Actually he
hasn't changed all that much since "Fear, Anxiety and
Depression." If this is "cutting edge," then I'll
take a blunt butter knife any day. Like "Your Friends and
Neightbors," "Happiness" is part of what I call
the "new sentimentality." Think of the most disgusting
behavior you can imagine and then have your actors *talk* about
it. "Honesty" and "realism" is simply a
gimmick -- as unreal as the most plush Ross Hunter fantasy.
Frankly, I prefer Ross.
12962
. KurtMondaugen - Oct. 31, 1998 -
9:22 PM PT
cllrdr:
Actually, I hated "Welcome to the
Dollhouse". And had a lot of problems with
"Happiness", as well, mostly due to Solondz'
inhibitions towards fully appreciating his characters...he simply
trots them out onto the runway and treats them with more than a
hint of disdain, a disdain which extends itself to the audience.
He did take some huge narrative risks with "Happiness"
that paid off, and he let his detatchment guard down in a few of
the storylines to good effect. Most of the elements that work
(see above review) though are due to the actors in his cast
insightful and talented enough to give them depth and give the
audience something to work with. I recommend
"Happiness" with reservation, and I think, based on
some of the ideas present in the film, if Solondz can get over
his obligatory 'ironic' indie-stance there will be a nice piece
somewhere underneath. But that's a big if.
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