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To jump back into blogging, I want to go the Oscar route. With my favorite awards show, I want to take a look at one of the Best Picture nominees. Sure, this year was a dry one for stand-out films, but Stephen Daldry’s Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close leaves me baffled with the nomination committee.
Based on the novel by Jonathan Safran Froer, the film follows Oskar Schell (Thomas Horn) as he deals with his father’s, Thomas Schell (Tom Hanks), tragic death in the World Trade Center on 9/11. To keep his close bond with his father alive, Oskar goes to extremes to find the lock that fits a key he finds amid his father’s belongings. He believes it’s a mission left for him. Alienating himself from his remaining family, his mother (Sandra Bullock), Oskar creates a grid of New York City and follows his only clue, a single word on the envelope that housed the key — “Black.” His desperation to find his father and solace leads him instead to myriad life stories ranging from crumbling marriages to rambunctious kids and hug-happy strangers.
When the trailers started airing, I thought this film would prove a quirky but moving look into the grieving process of a young boy. I was excited to see it–or at least an intrigued to see this look into grief and interpersonal interactions.
Wrong. It was long (running at 129 minutes) and rather boring.
I have not read Froer’s novel, but have read another of his works, Everything is Illumintated. Quirky does describe his writing style, and at least in Illuminated, the style plays with language well and successfully captures the reader’s attention. I can only imagine that this style remains in this movie’s source material. But it’s a style that doesn’t translate well to the screen. Instead, it becomes irritating.
The child’s idiosyncracies (he admits that he’s been tested, inconclusively, for Asperger’s syndrome) factor in as obnoxious, not endearing as it could be in print. Rather than being a peculiar little kid, Oskar evolves into an increasingly obsessive and angry individual. This anger doesn’t seem to come from his grief (with one notable exception: Oskar desperately rips open safe deposit boxes at a factory and ultimately dumps over a crate of hundreds of keys in frustration. The endless stream of “no’s” and dead ends has torn into him and his hope and the impossibility of his venture actually becomes poignant and moving in this scene). But overall, his frustration lies within the idea that he hasn’t been able to solve his father’s riddle. And when he does find success, he’s miserable with the outcome.
Then there’s the storyline about the old man who lives as a tenant of Oskar’s grandmother. He’s completely mute, communicating with a notepad and the inked “Yes” and “No” on his hands. The man provided a better sense of mystery than the outlandish key mission that dominated the plot, but the role this man plays in Oskar’s life becomes too obvious to remain enjoyable. In search of some patriarchal comfort, Oskar bonds with this man until he realizes his secret (one that the audience can deduce after the first reference to him).
Unfortunately, both the camera and Oskar spend most of the film ignoring the other half of the remaining Schell family: Linda Schell. The character (and the performance) shines through the muck as the most relatable character– much more so than her aloof 11 year old. She is a grieving wife, destroyed by the death of her partner, and she struggles to raise a child intent on shutting her off in his search for his favored parent. Bullock does what she can with it and truly adds emotional depth to the meager part. She achieves a subtle sadness throughout the film, even when she connects with her son. And while Oskar is the one who deftly creates the system of investigating the key, it’s Linda’s low-key role in the search that has the most impact. She’s the one most in tune with her son and husbands thought processes but is completely ignored. It’s in Bullock’s performance that the audience can find the purpose of the film — grieving and moving forward.
Instead, Daldry forces us to follow the obnoxious kid around.
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My Intro to Film 