BEFORE: I watched this Thursday night at the Tribeca Film Festival, but I'm going to count this as Friday's film - because I can do that. One of my bosses springs for a VIP pass for the festival, and he invited me as his guest to a number of films, which puts me in something of a quandary. One of the best film festivals in the country is taking place all around me, but I didn't feel comfortable taking advantage of his generosity and seeing a dozen or so films. So, I struck the same compromise as last year, and accepted his offer to see just one film (last year, it was "Everything Must Go", starring Will Ferrell). And so my chain didn't get interrupted, I picked a film that seemed to fit in with both last night's film (madness/hysteria) and tomorrow's film as well. This film is set in Victorian England, I'll leave it at that.
As a special bonus coincidence, and I swear I didn't plan this, Rupert Everett carries over from last night's film. It seems like it was meant to be - one of many hundreds of little coincidences that have occured in this process, like divine providence from the cinema gods.
My BFF Andy is in Ireland right now, and since he's surrounded by pubs and a somewhat Guinness-based economy, he e-mailed me and wondered if the wrong one of us was there. I told him that I can get Irish food here in NYC, and Irish beer as well, so since I'd probably do a terrible job speaking at whatever tech conference or computer thingie he's attending, it's probably for the best. Sometimes it does seem like the universe does know what it's doing. Perhaps when I go to San Francisco and I'm surrounded by tech companies and photogenic scenery, I'll feel the same way as him.
THE PLOT: A romantic comedy based on the truth of how Mortimer Granville devised the invention of the first vibrator in the name of medical science.
AFTER: This is an odd choice for subject matter perhaps - you may or may not find the medical science behind the vibrator an appropriate topic for a film, especially if you attend the screening with your boss, but I digress. What's significant is the sexual awakening that took place during Victorian times, before there were women doctors, or doctors who knew much about, umm, lady-parts. Geez, some doctors in the 1880's didn't even believe in the existence of germs, or washing their hands before surgery!
The term hysteria - note the similarity to hysterectomy, by definition a man cannot be hysterical - was sort of the ADHD for Victorian women, or maybe the chronic fatigue syndrome of that time. It was sort of an overall definition of women who were rundown, or depressed, or dis-satisfied with their lives, though the more severe cases may have been women who were insane in a frantic way, the mildest and most frequent cases were just women who needed umm, release? Satisfaction? Do I have to spell it out? However, it was also used to marginalize women who were just plain lippy, and in some cases led to unnecessary hysterectomies being performed. (not cool)
But because this was proper British society, most women never even got "the talk", or were brought up comfortable enough with their bodies to, shall we say, take matters into their own hands. Or tell their husbands what they wanted in the bedroom, because that would make them whores or something. Enter the physicians, who noticed that after certain stimulus was applied, and the women achieved a climax, or paraxsis, their moods greatly increased. Sure, it seems like a no-brainer now, but this was a time, not too long ago, when people still used chamberpots and tossed their own waste into the streets.
After the industrial revolution, people thought they were living in the most modern of times, but clearly they were wrong. On the other hand, today we ARE living in the most modern of times, and until someone invents the flying car, things are probably as good as they're gonna get. This film pokes light at that, by showing early rudimentary uses for the telephone - I'm sure phone sex wasn't invented until decades later, but I can't prove it of course. But I'm guessing that after the motion-picture camera came along, the first porno movie wasn't that far behind. Thomas Edison probably stayed late in the lab with a hot chick or two and liked to "crank the camera", if you get my drift.
Now, maybe you don't think that watching a bunch of middle-aged ladies getting their parts medically massaged makes for an entertaining film. (I'm sure someone, somewhere has a fetish for petticoats) This is all very tasteful, however, and quaint in its own ignorance about sex, medicine and electronic vibration. The main character, Mortimer Granville, is a doctor whose hand cramps up from all the "medical procedures" he performs, and when he realizes that the vibration of a machine makes his hand feel better, his brain eventually puts two and two together, and the medical vibrator is born.
There's a human element here too, as Granville works in a practice with an older doctor, and he's being groomed to marry the doctor's daughter and someday take over his lucrative practice of treating "hysterical" women - when word spreads about the treatment, it seems half of London can't wait to be diagnosed. But the doctor also has another daughter who's more fiery, more socially progressive, and who spends nearly all of her time running a sort of mission for the poor, while campaigning for women's rights.
Does the doctor settle for the dependable, yet boring daughter, or risk his job by pursuing the more headstrong, passionate one? Raise your hand if you think you know the answer. The last-minute romantic switcheroo is such an overused stereotype (going back to, I don't know, "The Philadelphia Story"?) that I'd honestly be more surprised if there wasn't a twist. So this film is sort predictable in its unpredictability, if that makes sense.
Still, it's a sweet ending, and a nice way to resolve a romantic triangle so that no one loses. It's very funny, and super self-aware, everything's done with a smile and a wink. And it's bawdy without being pornographic - though some of the stereotypes are worn out, like the sexy maid thing. Sure, it's a classic, but it's been done.
Speaking of being done before, how can a film portray the female orgasm on screen, after films like "When Harry Met Sally" and "Boogie Nights" essentially spoiled the party? If the actresses over-act, then they evoke Meg Ryan (and, umm, every porno actress ever), but if they down-play it, then how do we know it happened? When it's not obvious, this film opts for verbal confirmation, but also falls back on some well-worn movie tropes, like a woman singing opera. Really? If we're going to trot out the classics, why not exploding fireworks? The train going into the tunnel? I realize it's difficult to portray what cannot be seen, but I'm left wondering if there was a better way.
I have to think that the release of this film comes at a critical time, since there is a uterine-based war going on in our country, concerning women's reproductive rights. As usual, they are under attack from the Republicans - I lean toward pro-choice since I think there are already too many people in the world, plus who am I to tell a woman what she can and can't do with her womb? But I'm not completely happy with abortion either, and what it represents. I'm down with birth control as a solution, but that doesn't satisfy conservatives either, since they label any woman who uses it as a slut or a whore. Gee, maybe we haven't come that far from Victorian morals after all.
When a Senate panel is convened on women's reproductive issues, and not one single woman is asked to speak on the matter, that's not just a publicity gaffe, it's sheer lunacy. And, it proves that the people making the decisions don't have anything even close to a clue. Perhaps there will come a day, 150 years from now, when people will look back on the issues of abortion and birth control, having worked it all out somehow, and they won't believe we were ever stuck in such a quandary, and people who argued about it back in the early 2000's will seem as silly as a bunch of frumpy women who didn't know how to masturbate. They'll be glad to live in such an enlightened age - or perhaps that's just what their reptilian alien overlords will WANT them to think, via the Matrix.
Final thought, and here's where the double-standard cuts the other way - if you have a film where women are learning to "get in touch with themselves", then it's all about equal rights and female empowerment, which are good things. But a film about guys learning to jack it would just be gross, right?
Also starring Hugh Dancy (last seen in "Black Hawk Down"), Maggie Gyllenhaal (last seen in "Away We Go"), Jonathan Pryce (last seen in "Ronin"), Felicity Jones.
RATING: 7 out of 10 stirrups
It's possible that the "right" one went to Ireland. If someone is going to have a pint of Guinness, fresh from the factory a short walk away, served by the Lord Mayor of Dublin's butler in the official residence, maybe it should be that person's first Guinness ever.
ReplyDeleteStill, I've already been asked by several friends if it's true that the Guinness tastes incredible there compared to what you get in the US. Alas, I have no basis for comparison.