The MacGuffin

As the tagline says: Aura would like you to know that she’s having a very, very hard time. The main character of the indie comedy Tiny Furniture (2010)—played by writer-director Lena Dunham—has just graduated college with a major in film theory, moved back in with her mother and teenage sister, and seems to have no idea what to do with herself. There are worse places to have no idea what to do with yourself than your mother’s incredible New York City loft, but I can still relate to Aura’s ennui. I graduated college with a major in English, moved back in with my mother (not in an incredible New York City loft) and proceeded to spend a year working about 15 hours a week at my old summer job, sending my resume out to a lot of people who preferred not to ever respond, and watching all seven seasons of Gilmore Girls holed up in my tiny bedroom. It can be a rough time.

Where the pathetic numbers in big budget Hollywood are stagnant at best concerning female filmmakers, women in indie film continue to prove that it is the system, not a lack of ability, that keeps women from these positions of creative power. It is, of course, doubly satisfying to watch a woman of color make this point, since Hollywood’s problem with women has a partner in its problem with minority filmmakers. We got to see one of these moments on January 28, 2012, when Ava DuVernay won the U.S. Dramatic Directing Award at the Sundance Film Festival for her film Middle of Nowhere, the story of a woman dealing with life while her husband is in prison. DuVernay was the first black woman to win this prestigious prize at the festival.

When you have Tilda Swinton’s face available to you for use as a storytelling tool, you employ it for all that it’s worth. Lynne Ramsay, in her new film We Need to Talk About Kevin, finally opening in the U.S. today, understands this truth. Swinton is Eva Khatchadourian, a woman who has been through some type of terrible trauma that the film takes its time spelling out. She wakes up alone on the couch in her small, untidy house, seemingly hungover, with the definite aura of someone for whom this is not an uncommon occurrence. Something in the light in the room is off; it dawns that this is because the sunlight streams through windows that have been splattered with red paint. The marks of a community lashing out against a pariah. And in Swinton’s face, weariness.

One of the reasons I am so passionate about film is because of the emotional experience the medium can provide. This is true as well of other types of stories and media; the narratives and images we are fed have incredible power. Obviously, this is also why they can be dangerous. As a person who is tuned into the media and who is also a feminist (let me tell you some other time why all of us who believe in gender equality should be comfortable saying we’re feminists), I am frequently distraught by images and depictions of women that permeate popular culture. The bad far outweighs the good, and progress sometimes feels non-existent.

Ah, winter. The time when my usual routine of watching a lot of stuff turns into “really watching a lot of stuff,” what with it being dreary outside most of the time. Here are a few things that have distracted me during the last stretch of particularly nasty days in Seattle:

A truly great child actor can illicit emotion from the viewer in ways that dissolve once the barriers to adulthood begin to be crossed. Perhaps this is because seeing a child invoke that kind of emotion reminds us that they feel as deeply as we “grown-ups” do, and that our own pain was never silly, like we might now think of it. Perhaps it is because of the inherent helplessness of childhood, where you must face your problems in ways that others determine for you, and the audience cannot judge the character and say “this is what I would have done.” Or perhaps we just enjoy marveling at talent that comes so young. Whatever the case, the pull is there, and I felt it to an amazing degree while watching the star of Tomboy (2011).

I think Top 10 lists are fun. Many critics write beleaguered sorts of “I don’t really want to be doing this and it’s stupid and rankings are meaningless” disclaimers at the beginning of their lists. Ugh. Look, it should go without saying that any list (or review) is a reflection of the writer’s personality and their un-duplicate-able individual experience. If you’ve read the rest of my writing this year, you will not be shocked by my list. What I’d like to say before I dive in I don’t consider to be a disclaimer, but just necessary context: the films I didn’t/couldn’t see that are on my mind anyway.

I was probably not the best choice to review the new film Tinker Tailor Solider Spy for The MacGuffin. Double-crossing, secret-plotting, many-character-having spy movies make me anxious; I spend much of the time just fretting that I’ll miss something plot-wise. And if this is the case with a typical James Bond-style adventure, director Tomas Alfredson’s film takes it to new levels. The plot is purposefully, stubbornly obtuse, and often I had to just let go and try to enjoy the scene at hand while acknowledging that I didn’t understand the context—or, to put a finer point on it, what the hell was going on at all. It’s not so much that there are too many twists and turns to follow, but that we’re left to fend for ourselves as they come. I realize that too much exposition can be tiresome, but any summary at some point would have been appreciated. It can be argued that leaving so much gray area enhances the message of the film; I get that. I don’t mind working for comprehension, but I’d like to at least get the impression that if I work hard enough, an answer exists somewhere. But maybe that’s how a lot of spies feel.

It’s often much more difficult to evaluate a screenwriter’s career than that of a director or an actor. Sure, movies are always collaborative—the actor hopes the director and editor choose good takes, the director hopes the producer doesn’t insist on modifying their vision, etc, etc—but the screenwriter is often the one who has done the most to begin shaping the film, and has the least control over what their contribution ends up looking like. Most screenwriters end up less known to the public than their directing counterparts; it is also uniquely possible to make a living at screenwriting and never see any of your sold scripts actually hit the screen.

In the new film Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, opening in Seattle this Friday, Gary Oldman plays George Smiley, a retired spy called back to try to discover a mole within his old organization. When Oldman was in Seattle recently, he had a chance to talk to me, along with Allie Hanley of Culture Mob and Jason Roestel of The Examiner. As expected, he was a delight. Below is the transcript of that interview. Warning: some spoilers ahead (but not about who the mole is).