>They led cluttered and messy lives . . . and you know what . .
>.when Linney mocks her play, in conversation with the nurse,
>she says she feared it would be perceived as "middle-class
>whining." I don't think it was that bad, but I just don't
>know if Jenkins ever produces any insight or anything of real
>interest from casting these two as such pathetic go-nowhere's.
> She's having an affair with a married man who brings his dog
>over when they have sex. His girlfriend's visa has expired
>w/out him batting an eye. So what? I never cared all that
>much.

But she gets very little from the affair... she's all alone, and no one really gives a shit about her-- her job, the foundations she applies to, her family. And I'd say he definitely bats an eye. He is afraid of commitment, and the idea of anything permanent in his life is frightening. But he clearly is upset that it has to be this way.

They're just moving pieces of set design to throw layer
>and layer of neuroses upon but never to become anything real.
>(And when they turn, when they begin to take control of their
>lives, Linney's play and Hoffman moving closer to his
>girlfriend = way too quick / tidy / convenient.)

I just couldn't disagree more. You saw her beginning to take control of her life before that. And he hadn't FULLY begun to yet, but you saw hints of it... he's the one with the furthest to go when it ends. His venture to Poland (which wasn't going to be permanent necessarily, he was going there for a conference) just implies that he too wants to take steps in the right direction.



>If I were to compare The Savages to any other movies, two
>other Laura Linney films first come to mind: You Can Count On
>Me and The Squid and The Whale.
>
>The former presents another brother-sister relationship, but,
>aside from one slip-up in the story, doesn't go any
>sensationalistic or movie-route with it. It's a very natural,
>warm film, where the characters fuck up and succeed and love
>and fight, because that's what people do, not because a
>writer-director forces them too. As a result, I felt real
>heartbreak, relief, etc., and I did so because the story
>compelled me to, not because the characters signaled me to.

Yeah, that one is much much warmer. But this one is about a very ugly subject matter-- death of someone you don't like but feel a deep obligation to. It looks death and adulthood on the whole in the face, whereas You Can Count on Me is much more about reunion. The Savages is about a brief reunion before permanent departure.

>Then, compared to The Savages, the characters in The Squid and
>The Whale are more drawn, but they're also infinitely better
>written, at least: more caustic, more awkward, more developed,
>more entertaining. There's even some genuine empathy (versus
>Jenkins' self-pity).

I haven't seen that yet, but Christ, Margot at the Wedding was ugly, mean, unlikable, shallow characters running amok. I have The Squid and the Whale (and You Can Count on Me, for that matter) but haven't seen it yet.

>Lastly, I would mention The Wonder Boys. Though flawed by its
>narration and its cutesy ending, Wonder Boys however more
>successfully presents a cluttered, struggling, drug-addled
>literary type, much like the kind Linney and Hoffman play.
>However, it proves you can have the movie experience feel like
>a hazy drug trip without keeping the audience in a similar
>rut.

See, with Wonder Boys, I felt more detached than I did with The Savages. Maybe because I felt Michael Douglas's acting was a bit showy, or that many of the events seemed like familiar ground, or the aforementioned narration or cutesiness at spots. Nothing's cutesy about these characters, the acting is never showy, and I felt like this film was tackling head-on a subject most films are afraid to-- that the death of family is ugly, drawn out, and interfering. That's a fairly cynical p.o.v. on the topic of death, but I could point you to about a million people who've had their own lives interrupted and torn asunder by a parent's debilitating disease. The fact that their lives are already torn asunder gives this event the unlikely status as a catalyst for growth in those who haven't felt like growing up.

In a way, all theater people never really wanna grow up. I know a girl temping in NYC waiting for her play to get finished and produced-- she's much younger, but I can imagine how incredibly lonely that must be. I know several professors, and I'm aspiring to be one myself someday to pay the bills, and again, if facing it alone, it's very easy to just hide behind a wall of books working on your research. You lose your livelihood alone in the theater world, and there's a constant feeling that nothing is permanent-- you'll be a famous playwright/Broadway actor/director/author someday. Everything is temping, life is temping until you've hit your stride.

So like I said, perhaps this play just struck a chord. And I certainly agree that in no way does it attempt to be warm (though I think the optimistic ending shows the hope for warmth in life). But as far as cynical argumentative family dramedies go, this one is really top drawer.