Away We Go (2009)

Have you ever thought about how your parents found out that your mother was pregnant for the first time? Or how they reacted? Or how they spent those nine months before you, or your older sibling, arrived? It’s a colossal change in a couple’s life, or an individual’s if they’re going it alone. Almost every aspect of their lives change as the weight of responsibility, of you, grows and grows. And it won’t just be practical things like buying tiny clothes or fitting a lock on windows. They would have to completely re-evaluate their whole personality, try to figure out what kind of parents they were going to be once the kid has come along. They would likely also realise the need for a support system, a small group of people that could help in some way when needed. In 2009, Sam Mendes directed a road movie, written by husband and wife Dave Eggers and Vendela Vida, about an expectant couple going through that very process.

Burt (John Krasinski) and Verona (Maya Rudolph) are in their early 30s and expecting their first child. However, things are shaken up when Burt’s parents reveal they have decided to move to Belgium a month before the baby is due and are renting the house to someone else. The pair then decides to embark on a search for the right place to raise their baby. They go to every place they can think of that’s near family or friends, hoping they’ll find the perfect place to start their own family.

Dave Eggers and Vendela Vida are both novelists and, for those familiar with their work, you can feel the influence from each party on the script here. Eggers’ achieved a great amount of success with his book A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, a memoir recounting how he and his sister Beth had to raise their younger brother following the death of both of their parents. Already, there is the recognisable theme of familial support and the struggle to act as a parent when one may not feel mature enough to do so. Also, the fact that Verona’s parents both died when she was younger, and feels the need to be somewhat motherly to her sister is a clear parallel also. Vida herself holds a preoccupation with transition, change and coming-of-age, particularly in the case of women. Her works also often involve taking literal journeys as well as figurative ones. The fact that they are a smart, rather good-looking couple with kids of their own likely held no small influence either. As such, Away We Go would appear to be a good blend of their respective fascinations, as well as a rather intriguing treatise on the relationship of an expectant couple. This could almost be a companion piece to the very popular pregnancy book What to Expect When You’re Expecting, only this would be titled What's Expected of You When You’re Expecting.

Sam Mendes serves as director, and it serves as a very interesting change of pace for him. Before this, he had always held a very controlled and artistic hand over his films, with a penchant for material that was much darker in tone (American Beauty, Road to Perdition, Jarhead, Revolutionary Road). However, in Away We Go, Mendes has picked a much lighter film, and adopted a much looser style. He still maintains a subtle sense of artistry to the visuals (just watch the transition of Burt and Verona’s wardrobe in contrast to each other and their surroundings), and he still utilises the long shots that have served him so well in the past; but his camera is freer to move, the sense of light less stylised, and it all exudes a rather pleasing warmth. Clearly, he is as adept at reinventing his own style as he is doing so with others.

Krasinski and Rudolph make such a great couple. Part of their charm is that they don’t really look like a couple, and yet Burt and Verona are clearly in an easy kind of love, so they don’t have to force anything on each other. Verona even finds it a little odd that they don’t really fight, which does lead to some valiant, but completely half-hearted attempts by Burt to give her what she wants. What really makes the pair great is they don’t freak out about their impending child in the way that we see so often from other ‘baby on the way’ comedies. They don’t tie themselves in knots over how little they know about child rearing because they’ve already prepared themselves. Burt almost can’t wait to start, having already decided that he wants to be the kind of dad that can fix things and carve things out of wood, which he mistakenly thinks is called “cobbling”. Krasinski and Rudolph both give such natural and unaffected performances, exuding the easy-going charm and affection for each other that it’s really very difficult to not like them.

There are several other great performances. Allison Janney’s Lily is a loud, rather mean-spirited character, but seems to be completely unaware of it, and Janney pitches it perfectly. Maggie Gyllenhaal and Josh Hamilton are superb as two hippie new-ager types, LN and Roderick, so self-righteous in their parenting ways that you just want to shout at them for pitching such complete bullshit as the appropriate and correct method of raising children. Chris Messina and Melanie Lynskey are lovable, but rather heart-breaking as Tom and Munch, parents to a scatter of adopted kids and who seem so very happy with their lot, but come to show that a particular happiness will always be so regretfully beyond them. Paul Schneider is also on fine form as Burt’s uneasy brother Courtney, whose wife recently left and shook him to a nervous root. There’s also great work from Catherine O’Hara and Jeff Daniels as Burt’s giddy, but very selfish parents, and from Carmen Ejogo as Verona’s sister. Really, there’s a fine performance in everyone you see.

Away We Go isn’t really a flawless picture, though. One of the biggest criticisms levelled against it is that Burt and Verona are smug, self-satisfied, a couple drenched in a particular arrogance. Another more specific point made is that, over the course of their journey, they learn nothing new about each other, and ultimately come to a conclusion that would perhaps have seemed obvious from the beginning, which is truer, but rather missing the point. Personally, I always thought it was a little odd that the best parental role models that Burt and Verona could find were Verona’s parents… and they’re dead. What exactly does that say?

On the point of the smugness of the pair, I’m not really sure I completely take to this, although I can certainly understand it. The people that they visit all represent different schools of thought on parenthood or family living, albeit in a fairly stereotypical manner. Lily is a crass and tactless woman, who thinks nothing of mocking her own family who stand only feet away. That she wants to “climb the social ladder” and is perhaps a little overly affectionate with Burt rather displays that she probably not the best influence to a young mother… or daughter… or son… or anyone, really. That she believes her kids don’t listen to her because that’s just what kids do, or that she takes absolutely no notice when her daughter openly talks to people that just pulled up in a van, really shows that she isn’t concerned with being a mother so much as looking for a distraction, a way out. LN and Roderick are equally off-putting as parental models because of their sanctimonious methods (strollers are bad) and complete lack of boundaries (LN admits to breast-feeding another woman’s child, and still breastfeeds her own beyond an age many would believe appropriate; and they hold a continuum home, so they share one giant bed with their children, even when they have sex). The critic of the New York Times, Tony Scott, wrote disparagingly about the film, saying: “this movie does not like you.” Frankly, if you have aligned yourself with either Lily or LN and Roderick, then you’re not my friend and I don’t want to talk to you.

Honestly, even if I did agree that they were smug, they kind of have a reason to be. They’re expecting a child and have reacted in a manner that you’d hope everyone would: they have prepared themselves by reading on what to expect along the pregnancy, but they’ve also given thought to what kind of parents they want to be. Burt wants to be the handy dad who can teach his kids how to do things, like tie knots or carve wood. Verona wants be able to fill her child’s life with happy memories, like her mother was for her. Considering how immature they consider themselves, they are reacting in a very mature way. They also want to make sure that they pick the right place to start their family, and cast a wide net in their search. If this kind of rather level-headed and unpretentious behaviour is to be regarded as smug, then I’d be only to happy to sign up to that.

Even then, this idea that the two are smugly self-satisfied rests at odds with their actions towards Tom and Munch. From the moment they arrive in Montreal, they are in love with the place, and they are still so close with their old school friends. However, after a confessional talk between Tom and Burt, as well as Verona’s own observations, they decide that they can’t settle here. This decision is made because Burt and Verona both silently agree that to move here to raise their child would be an unkind act towards their friends, who would perhaps forever look at them and see what they could never have. Despite believing that this would be a great place to stay, they move on so they don’t hurt their friends. That’s not an act of smug people; that’s a rather selfless one. And it’s this kind of selflessness that will make them good parents.

At the beginning of all of this, I asked whether or not you had ever considered what your parents experienced in the immediate nine months prior to you being born. I know I haven’t. Perhaps I’m in the rather selfish minority on this, which would be no great shock, but I certainly don’t believe I’m alone in that. Now, I could probably come up with some reasons as to why I’ve never considered how my parents were during the pregnancy. It’s not like I’ve never showed any kind of curiosity about them when they were younger, although I admit that it’s not been much. And the fact that I’m the younger of two siblings probably meant that some of the questions as to what kind of parents they were going to be had been answered one way or another. However, the fact remains that I have never really considered the precise implications of these huge life changes on either of my parents, and Away We Go at least gave something of a glimpse into what some of their thoughts may have been. What decisions did they make prior to the birth of either of their children? Did they become the kind of parents they wanted or expected to be? Did they worry a lot, or did they take things in their stride? How did it affect their relationship? You know how you always get the bit in birth scenes in comedies where the mother yells stuff like “You did this to me! I hate you! I never want you near me again!” at the father? Did my mother do that?

It’s a little odd to think of some of these things, but it’s most certainly something that they would have had to deal with. A lot of people seem to forget, or just fail to recognise, that your parents weren’t always your parents. Before you, they had a life with friends and hopes, and the arrival of you would have had an irrevocable change on that life. After finding out about you, they would have to endure physical and emotional shifts that would have been often very hard on them. If you’re lucky, your parents were able to rise to that challenge and did their best to raise a happy, healthy child. That’s not smugness; that’s decency.

Away We Go is a warm and charming film, filled with humour, great performances and nicely low-key aesthetic. Given some of the reaction to the film, you may end up finding the journey somewhat supercilious, but I can’t join you on that. I like Burt and Verona too much, and I don’t disagree with anything they say or do. I was with them from beginning to end and, if it weren’t for the fact that their not real, I’d wish them all the best.

Ash Wednesday (2002)

STAY ALIVE

Edward Burns grew up as part of an Irish-Catholic family from New York, and the second child of three. As such, his distinct New York sensibilities, his siblingness and his Catholic upbringing have very much figured themselves into his work. Prior to 2002, his films were all romantic comedies, which gave him some moderate, if not overwhelming success. Naturally, as his career grew, so did his ambitions. For his fifth film, Burns tried a different approach. He did away with the easy, albeit blunt romantic comedy stylings and took aim at something else. Still maintaining his focus on sibling relationships and an Irish-Catholic influence, he tried his hand at something darker, replete with atmosphere, tension and religious metaphor.

Hell’s Kitchen, Ash Wednesday, 1983. Rumours have begun to circulate that Francis Sullivan (Edward Burns)’s younger brother Sean (Elijah Wood) has been seen around the old neighbourhood, despite him being dead for three years. Believing him to still be alive, the people that wanted him dead in the first place start asking questions. The local mob boss also starts to feel the pressure, since he’s acting as protector over Francis… and Sean. As the weight slowly builds, Francis has to organise a way for Sean and his wife Grace (Rosario Dawson), who doesn’t know he’s still alive, to get out of the city before they all get killed.

I first saw Ash Wednesday not too long after it first came out on DVD. A friend and I were having a movie night, so we got some pizza and hit the rental place to see what we could find. Honestly, neither of us knew anything about the film, but it sounded intriguing enough to warrant the renting price, so we got that (and likely a couple of others) and headed off for our watching. I still remember it, because by the end of the night, both of us really liked the film. So much so, that we both became minor fans of Edward Burns, seeking out his other stuff to watch. Now, the rest of his work at the time was nothing like Ash Wednesday, but we liked them well enough. Today brings the first time I’ve really watched any of his stuff for a long while, during which time I’ve learned a few things. One of those things is that Ash Wednesday was a colossal flop, and I mean colossal. I have no idea what the budget was to begin with, but the distributors clearly were not hopeful for the film, giving it an incredibly weak run of one week at two theatres. Just two. The total cinematic box office for Ash Wednesday is less than $3,000. I have no idea as to whether or not the film made its money back on DVD sales or rentals, but to do so would have been a hell of an uphill struggle.

This must have been especially galling for Burns, since this was clearly a very big risk for him as a filmmaker. Since he had made his name from making romantic comedies of sorts, Ash Wednesday was an attempt by Burns to experiment, to try his hand at a new genre, to stretch beyond the limitations that he had worked himself into. It was a very ambitious project for the man, and the fact that it failed so spectacularly must have been a serious blow to his creative ego. In fact, we know that this is the case, since he has made five films since then, all of which return him to his romantic comedy roots. I have to say, I do respect this kind of risk-taking. It takes serious balls to ignore, even potentially alienate your existing fanbase to satisfy a personal creative venture. Sure, there’s the chance it could backfire horribly, but there’s also the chance that it could pay off and open up new doors for him. It’s a gamble that many others would simply have felt too much to follow through. However, much like the character he plays in the film, Edward Burns seems to be a bit of a gambler.

In this particular filmmaking gamble, Burns draws heavily on his religious upbringing as a source of thematic concern and allegory. Notions of guilt, sin, repentance and redemption flow freely through the piece. Francis was an enforcer for the mob, a role given to him by his father. Between this often messy work and his gambling problems, he offends the wrong people, who now want him killed as a message to others. However, the men that have been brought in for the job discuss the details in the bar where Francis’ brother Sean works. When Sean overhears their plans, he kills the would-be hitmen in the bathroom. Sean tells his priest, who tells Francis and the three get Sean out of town with the help of the local mob boss, Whitey. Three years later, the trouble resurfaces when Sean comes home to be with the wife he abandoned, though she believes him to be dead.

Yes, admittedly, it is a little unnecessarily convoluted. Honestly, the script is a mixed batch of good and bad. However, the themes do remain present and strong throughout, particularly the old Catholic standby - Guilt. Everyone in the film feels guilt for something, which is generally codified by the ash cross on various characters’ foreheads. Francis wears his as a sign of his guilt over his past deeds with the mob, as well as what his brother was forced to do for him. Grace wears hers because of the guilt she feels over the fact that she took solace in the arms of Francis after Sean’s disappearance. The priest, Father Mahoney, played his part in the deception, too. That Sean does not have a cross on his forehead just shows that he feels no guilt for what he did, simply acting in the best interests of his brother. It’s perhaps not exactly a subtle indicator, but it works very nicely, both in terms of dramatic signification and spatial legitimacy.

However, all of this genuinely interesting stuff is rather undercut by several aspects of the film that just let things down. Burns has completely dropped his old visual sensibility, opting for a new one of longer takes, canted angles and a grittier film texture shown by Russell Lee Fine’s cinematography. These would actually work well, if not for the fact that it all feels somewhat put on. It feels more like Burns trying to be Martin Scorsese, so there’s a sense of affectation, of pretence. It’s really something that runs through the film as a whole. So often, there’s the sense that Burns is consciously trying to make his own Mean Streets, but without the effortless artistry or the simmering power that Scorsese can draw out. There’s also a scene that is basically a flagrant lift from Raging Bull, with Sean asking Francis whether or not he had sex with Grace. Burns also mimics Scorsese’s eclectic musical influences, drawing from various periods to suit the film. Obviously, there’s nothing wrong with that in itself, but beside the other evidence, it’s difficult to see it any other way. Hell, several of the songs used in the film (Radar Love by Golden Earring, Catch Me Now I’m Falling by The Kinks, Let It Ride by Bachmann-Turner Overdrive) actually come from 1973, the year that Mean Streets was released. Add to this the parallels with Scorsese’s own concerns with religion and New York… even though Burns already uses these aspects regularly, you see how all of this mounts up, right? I admire the spirit of artistic experimentation, but it feels too much like Burns copied someone else’s homework.

The acting in the film is often rather off, mainly from the leading roles. Francis is meant to be a tough guy, but one struck through with deep regret and guilt. Burns carries off the former trait, but does less well with the latter. One of the reasons I like Burns as an actor is the deadpan sarcasm in his delivery, but it really gets in the way here. You should feel that all he wants to do is say he’s sorry, but can't. Instead, it’s more like ‘yeah, but what are you gonna do?’ He never plays it like it’s meant to be funny, and it never comes across that way, but the idea that he’s all torn up with guilt is lost. Both Elijah Wood and Rosario Dawson, two fine actors on their own, seem to be giving performances that seem stuck around Week Two of rehearsals. There’s a lack of conviction in their readings, with little real emotional development, so it seems like they’re just going through the motions. They’re in the right area, but they haven’t nearly gone far enough. I attribute this more to Burns’ direction, though. Others do better, with Oliver Platt and James Handy giving the best work in the film.

There is an issue with the editing, too. It feels blunt, often quite amateurish at times. One of the film’s few moments of action, a gunfight, sees one character hit in the arm. Perhaps there was no money for a squib pack or some sort of effect, but it’s been left to David Greenwald’s editing to construct the hit, and it looks a little shoddy. It reminds me of the gunfights you see in student films, with shots too static and a bad pace to them, so it's very unconvincing. Frankly, it’s a little ugly to look at. And some conversations that should be down to simple 'shot-counter shot' dynamics are cut too close to the beginning of lines, making the words feel like they’re being punched out rather than spoken. If this was an intentional effect, it doesn’t work. It breaks the cardinal rule of invisible editing: it draws attention to itself.

A note on the score from David Shire. It’s a simple piano piece that gets repeated at various points, with the occasional change here and there. Personally, I like it. It’s got a subtle atmosphere about it, which works well for the apprehension of the film. Saying that, I am aware that many people really dislike it, precisely because it’s a simple piano piece that gets repeated. It’s also very memorable, a sort of moody earworm. Again, I like it, but I know that I’m likely to be in a minority on a lot of this.

Whilst I can see the many flaws of Ash Wednesday, I still can’t say I dislike it. Whether or not I’m still holding on to the memory of a good night watching movies, and thus have more of a blinder on the faults as a result, I still rather like it. The faults are many and rather inexcusable, but the one thing that shines through for myself is the ambition behind the project. This is Burns trying to test his borders, find out if he can really offer the world more than just romantic comedy. I'd like to see more people give this one a try, just be aware that most people don’t care much for this film.