The Squid and the Whale
The Squid and the Whale begins with a tennis match between sides chosen long before the game. Bernard (Jeff Daniels) and Walt (Jesse Eisenberg) are teamed up against Joan (Laurel Linney) and Frank (Owen Kline). A relatively short film, it brings you right into the drama and strikes hard with its hilarity, honesty and tragedy.
The film is about the Berkmans, who are about to split up. It’s apparent why. Bernard knows that Joan’s weakness on the tennis court is her backhand. He tells Walt, the older son, to aim for it. Bernard is merciless with his rally and eventually pegs Joan with the ball. After he notices that he has hurt her, he attempts to console her. He is not incapable of emotion, even though his dry acting might exhibit otherwise. He is childish and incredibly insecure. He doesn’t enjoy capitalizing on her weaknesses, but he can’t help it. He finds too much comfort in feeling superior, the feeling of which, as of lately, is under attack. Joan’s career as a writer is looking promising while his is ebbing.
We want to blame him, but we can’t: we find out that Joan has been cheating on him. We want to blame her, but we can’t: it’s obvious that Bernard won’t attend to her needs. Thus, the audience is in the same place as the children, who are going to have a hell of time with it.
The movie focuses on Bernard’s disintegration and Walt’s maturation. Frank plays a key part as well. Being the youngest and lacking the defense mechanisms of Bernard and Frank, the pain registers strongest with him. He’s entering into the chaos of puberty with no one to comfort or support him. His dad leaves him at home a couple of times, once for three days, and his mother can’t always provide solace. In a particularly hurtful scene, we see him stick his hand out of the shower for his mother to hold, which she doesn’t. He ends up dealing with his pain by drinking beer and whisky, sometimes in excess.
This is not to say that the other characters don’t hurt. The mother says little, fearing she will say the wrong things, but we see it all in her eyes. Bernard and Frank are too proud to admit it and repress a great deal. Because of this, the acting, like most of the meaning, is indirect or subtle. Outside Frank’s school, Bernard gets into an argument with Joan. We have to watch his movements to see what he is really feeling. He rushes away from her because he wants to leave her completely behind, but he comes back because he can’t; he still loves her too much. Sadly, he won’t admit it and try to mend their tear, won’t, as he characteristically puts it, “be more aggressive.”
Walt apes his father, trusting his every word. Like his dad, he believes Gatsby is Fitzgerald’s best, although he has never read it. He dumps Sophie (Halley Feiffer) because of his father’s advice (despite how much it’s ruined already), even calling her “difficult,” a favorite term of his father’s for women who have needs. While it is apparent that he can’t trust his father, we see that his real challenge, like most adolescents, is separating himself as an independent and cognizant adult. He can no longer close his eyes and have someone else tell him about the squid and the whale.
The movie builds towards the moment Walt faces the squid and the whale at the natural history museum. The film’s narrative structure develops like therapy. Characters repress and suffer. There is hope for those who don’t. The film celebrates Walt’s psychological accomplishment. A Lou Reed song accompanies his run to the museum. The cello builds to the moment he walks through the threshold to enter the dark, expansive cavern containing the squid and the whale. Walt stares at it for the first time, facing it like a Jungian symbol in his unconscious. He has begun to analyze his life. The movie argues that even though it is tough to face the brutishness of reality, it is necessary. Hiding your head in the sand won’t improve the situation. It also shows that parents, who seem like the largest, most capable creatures in the sea, are locked, like everything else, in a constant struggle for peace and clarity.
The actors are at their best. They convey so much with so little. They’ll make you laugh and then break your heart. I can’t get over the scene between Joan and Bernard, right before the ambulance takes him away. When I saw it the first time, I couldn’t stop laughing at his allusion to Breathless: “degueulasse.” It seemed so petty. When I saw it the second time, I had to keep rewinding the scene. Everything manifests here. We see the source of so much confusion as well as the connection that kept them together for 17 years. Bernard cites the film to remind Joan of the time they saw it together. She doesn’t remember at first. His disappointment is as apparent as her frustration at his pedantry. If you watch her eyes though, you can see her shift with recognition. Her heart surfaces from the deep, and spying this he is thrilled that he has touched her once more. High culture, has been more than his defense, it has been his strongest form of connection. Tragically, it has been a weak bond with others. Outside of it, he feels insufficient but he won’t admit to it, perhaps doing so could have saved his marriage.
Noah Baumbach has created a richly textured film, marbled with cultural references. Astonishingly, and much to its credit, the film, although about two authors, develops more through its poetic images than heavy-handed dialogue. It is “the filet,” of independent cinema.
Overall Grade: A
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