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In the Bedroom is so emotionally rending that it is difficult to see—but well worth the effort
by Joey Cody
Americans love success stories—fame, fortune, love. But we must also enjoy the failure that sometimes follows—the utterly debilitating loss of all that's been gained. This explains why the country devours programs like Biography, Behind the Music, and Where Are They Now?, provided, of course, they're tales of rags to riches...to rags.
Why is this? Because we need to be reminded to be grateful? More likely, because we secretly enjoy learning that the lives of those more fortunate are filled with pain and irrevocable mistakes.
Regarding the American nuclear family, our voyeurism becomes an obsession with measuring the normal and the abnormal. The charade of the "functional" '50s household was exposed years ago, but we still need to see inside. What does "dysfunctional" mean nowadays? What are the myriad and subtle ways people in couples and families torment and punish one another?
In the Bedroom doesn't shrink from those domestic demons—the parts of ourselves that aren't so much Martha Stewart, or so much forgiving. In his directorial debut, actor-turned-director Todd Field (Walking and Talking) walks the line between an eye for an eye and forgiveness 70 times seven. It is a bleak reminder of how tenuous happiness can be.
Ruth Fowler (Sissy Spacek, in a part for which she just won a Golden Globe) and Dr. Matt Fowler (Tom Wilkinson) are a 50ish professional couple who live in the seaboard hamlet of Camden, Maine. Their son, Frank, is home for the summer after getting his undergraduate degree, and is contemplating grad school. He has also cultivated a summer love affair with Natalie Strout (Marisa Tomei), a local divorcée with two young sons.
Ruth's not happy about her son's extracurricular activities. Although she politely tolerates the relationship, she doesn't want his promising future stymied by someone she sees as a simple, selfish woman. Artsy and overeducated, Ruth wishes Frank would just forget about this single mom.
For her part, Natalie doesn't quite believe she deserves Frank's attentions, let alone his commitment—insecurities that Ruth doesn't do much to dispel.
Ruth is very much the proud, jealous mother, and Spacek plays her with the experience and possessiveness of a true parent. As vigilant as she is, she believes Frank will do the smart thing, even if she can't help nagging.
Unlike Ruth, Matt thinks the affair is a romp. He trusts his son to break things off when the time is right, but, in the meantime, he seems to enjoy that his son's seeing one of the prettiest women in town.
But Natalie's ex-husband, Richard, and their sons complicate matters. Natalie can't quite let go of her ex—she refuses to get a restraining order after several incidents. And the kids are so clearly enamored of their mother's intelligent, compassionate boyfriend—so different from their flaky, abusive father—that Frank wavers, considering staying to work on a lobster boat for a few years instead of attending grad school.
When Frank comes home with a black eye, compliments of Richard, Matt and Frank both persuade Ruth to not call the authorities: "It's just a scuffle," they say, waving off her motherly concern. And the parents were right to trust their son; Frank does decide to return to his architectural passion, but not before he gets one last phone call...
After their son's death, Matt and Ruth wade through an emotional purgatory. They see each other through their pain, but they can't touch. Ruth becomes a stone wall—her blue eyes freeze, she screws down tight, and nearly drowns in a numb, dreamy routine of cigarettes and TV. All around town she sees Richard Strout, who torments her simply with his living, when her beautiful son is dead.
One of the most strikingly realistic (and refreshing) features of the film is that Field chose no soundtrack. Other than the almost audible heart-breaking and the haunting songs Ruth teaches her girls' chorus, there are only moments of long, unapologetic quiet, where the sounds of grief and conscience drown out all else.
Finally, the dam breaks. Ruth and Matt have been saving the words, letting them store up venom. There are appalling accusations and finger-pointing, and after the switchblade words fly, we really don't know if they can ever be taken back.
The rest of the film deals with how the Fowlers tolerate what's happened to their family. But this is no pat Hollywood healing—Bedroom keeps surprising you with its hard choices. The Fowlers' anguish is messy. Ambiguous. And tragic.
With their only child dead, anger becomes their progeny. When can you accept that your children have chosen their own path, no matter how disastrous?
Interestingly, our voyeuristic appetite isn't just sexual; we also crave emotional destruction. In the Bedroom delivers—what our marriages and we could become if something precious were torn from us.
Are you sure you want to see?
January 24, 2001 * Vol. 12, No. 4
© 2000 Metro Pulse
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