Showing posts with label Emily Mortimer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Emily Mortimer. Show all posts

Saturday, May 25, 2019

Lars and Stripes Forever


Sure, it's a little weird that I'm trotting out a Canadian for a semi-patriotic post.  But Ryan Gosling is so much more than an overly polite, maple syrup-guzzling, hockey-worshiper.  After all, he did save that journalist that time.  And it doesn't get much more American -- or, for that matter, thespian -- than risking it all for free speech.   

We've seen Gosling in courtrooms and race cars, behind the piano and on the other side of the law.  But of all of his movies, I like him best in Lars and the Real Girl.  To me, it's there that he's at his most vulnerable and endearing.  And yes, I'm counting that one where he rows a boat in the rain.

Lars is a near-recluse who lives in his brother's garage in a small, snowy town.  His brother Gus (Paul Schneider) and sister-in-law Karin (Emily Mortimer) have an ongoing bet as to whether he'll show up for dinner (spoiler alert, he doesn't), and he cringes whenever someone tries to touch him.  Some of these anxieties seem to stem from his mom dying in childbirth, others from an innate inability to deal with change.  Still, Lars manages to hold down a job.  And it's in their shared cubicle that his degenerate coworker introduces him to the world of online sex dolls.  Before we know it, Lars is telling Gus and Karin that he's met someone.  They're overjoyed, relieved, and willing to do whatever it takes to make Lars's relationship work.

And then Lars wheels in Bianca. 

Even after one of those hurried, honey-help-me-with-dinner kitchen conferences, Gus and Karin remain flabbergasted.  But Karin, who happens to be pregnant, insists that they be supportive.  And so they solider on with the meal and everything that follows.  Lars has crafted an elaborate backstory for Bianca, which he relays with confidence.  He knows her likes and dislikes, her hopes and dreams and fears.  It's funny.  It's sad.  And because of Lars and his childlike ways, it's also kind of sweet.

Before long, everyone in town pitches in to help with Bianca.  They invite her to potlucks and sewing circles, to volunteer at the hospital and sit on the school board.  And slowly, something happens.  As the community begins to accept Bianca, Lars begins to accept himself.  It turns out that Bianca is how he works through his issues, navigates social situations, and prepares for his first "real" girlfriend.  Because bringing all of his fears to the surface is the only way he can put them behind him.  When we first meet Lars, he's so anxious and self-contained that he can't even bring himself to hug Karin.  And yet, when things take a turn with Bianca, the whole town turns out for him.  Making him realize that he's not so alone after all.

Lars and the Real Girl blurs the lines between what's real and what's not.  Bittersweet and sensitive, it brings new meaning to embracing the bizarre.  Because sometimes going crazy is the only way to get back to normal.

 Both shirts from TJ Maxx.

Both bags Liz Claiborne from J. C. Penney's.

So . . . stripes.  This bold top twosome is somewhere between the spangly sex worker garb that Bianca arrives in and the down-home sweaters in which Lars swathes her.  As for the bags, they're more Good Ship Lollipop than trollop.

Which is just about as sweet as it gets for this more Liz Claiborne than Dolls Kill kind of girl.

Friday, September 9, 2011

Movie Moment: Our Idiot Brother

When I heard that Paul Rudd was starring in a movie called Our Idiot Brother, I knew I had to see it.  I don't usually get all starry-eyed about actors, but Paul Rudd has a kind of irresistible witty-yet-down-to-earth geek-chic appeal, a new facet of which is illuminated in this indie flick.  Part comedy, part family drama, Our Idiot Brother is the story of Ned Rochlin, a guy who gets arrested for selling pot to a uniformed police officer from his organic produce stand.  But don't be fooled by this wacky opener.  This movie's deep.

Thankfully, there are no prison scenes.  The plot just fast forwards to eight months later when Ned has been released.  He returns to his beloved farm and dog, Willie Nelson, only to find that his girlfriend (Kathryn Hahn) has replaced him with an even ditsier dude.  Suddenly homeless, Ned is forced to move in with his mother, who promptly drives him crazy and out into the world again.  So, he takes turns bunking with each of his three sisters, a trio tailor-made for allegory.  Liz (Emily Mortimer) is the stay-at-home mom; Miranda (Elizabeth Banks) is the career woman; and Natalie (Zooey Deschanel) is the bohemian.  Garbed in a ridiculous collection of striped tank tops and colorful button-downs (well, it's actually just one colorful button-down, worn over and over again), Ned dispenses nuggets of truth that snag the delicate fabric of his sisters' not-so-together lives.  At first they just yell at him, hit him with their handbags, and call him, well, an idiot.  Yet they eventually realize that there's wisdom in Ned's revelations and end up sacrificing the very things that define them to become better, happier people. 

Our Idiot Brother isn't laugh-out-loud funny (although it does have some funny parts, especially at the end).  Still, it's subtle and quirky and interesting.  Rudd's Ned is so endearing that I couldn't help but wonder if ignorance is bliss.  Heck, his blind optimism and faith in his fellow man made me want to be a better person.  I have a feeling that Our Idiot Brother is one of those movies that gets a little bit better each time you see it.  Kind of like Anchorman.