Defiance (2008)

Mainly, I measure a movie by how much I suffer, how much I want the movie to just end. The less I suffer, the more I enjoy the movie. I suffered through a long stretch of Defiance. Eventually, I stopped my DVD player with little intention of returning to finish the movie.

I’m glad I returned to Defiance.

In writing workshop, we often talk about payoff, which can be understood in terms of economics. Does the viewer’s investment produce a high, profit-yielding return? Or, from the writer’s perspective, does a decision (killing off a character, possibly) produce the desired effect (we’re happy to see a character’s still alive)? Somtimes, the payoff is worth the suffering.

Defiance does not kill a character and bring him back, but a character does go away and return, and that character saves the day, and it sounds cheesy, but I found the payoff to be extremely high.

For those unfamiliar with the film, Defiance is based on the true story of Jewish brothers who begin living in the forest to escape the Holocaust and eventually lead a refugee colony which survives the end of the war. One brother (Zus), aggressive and uncompromising, leaves the colony after a spat with his brother (Tuvia) to fight with the Russians, who are aware they share the forest with the refugees. While in camp with his new comrades, Zus learns that the Russians, aware of an impending German attack, will retreat from the forest. The scene ends ambiguously as Zus’s allegiance is obviously called into question.

The refugee camp is left for dead by the Russians and the German slaughter begins. Tuvia, the leader of the refugees, outflanks the Germans and picks off only enough so that the Germans redirect their attack in his direction. Tuvia’s death is certain. Then, German soldiers begin to fall inexplicably. As only film can do, the camera zooms out to a bird’s eye a view and it’s clear that Germans are being attacked from the other flank. They are being shot from behind. Zus, the deserting brother, and a small number of Russian troops, save the day.

I use the term “save the day” facetiously. Because in no way did I find it cheesy that Zus returned. In no way, did the illusion of the story break down. Here are some reasons why:

1. Zus does not return alone; he is accompanied by Russian soldiers.

2. The ambiguity of the scene with Zus and the Russian commander leaves it unclear as to who did the “right” thing, who decided to help the refugees (Was it Zus? Was it the Russian commander?).

3. The love expressed by Zus’s return was not romantic love; it was love for his brothers and love for his Jewish brethren.

Zus as solitary hero, Zus giving the Russian commander a metaphoric middle finger, and Zus returning to the woman of his dreams are common tropes that remind us (me) the story / film is only an illusion.

So, the formula, is pretty simple: Step 1 – Establish a relationship. Step 2 – End the relationship. Step 3 – Renew the relationship.

Step 4 requires magic. Make me believe I’ve never seen this formula. That’s the return I want on my investment.

...I have more to say...Update coming soon...

Away We Go (2009)

Here’s the premise of Away We Go: An expecting, unmarried couple in their thirties wants to find a new place to live because the man’s parents are leaving town a month before the baby will be born to travel for two years and his parents are the only reason they're in that town. So, they travel to cities like Phoenix, Montreal, and Miami to find a place to raise their child. Oh yeah, and the pregnant women refuses to marry.

Currently, I’m reading The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (author Ron Hansen). Yesterday, noting a major similarity, I was ready to compare it to Away We Go.

Yesterday, I was ready to toss both into a garbage bin I call “Technically Astute, Narratively Arid.” That may be a fancy way of saying “This story is boring,” but I think it says a little more: It’s built well, but what is built isn’t very interesting.

My issue with Away We Go and (previously with) The Assassination of Jesse James is that these stories never get messy. I never get a sense of the story becoming increasingly complicated.

Away We Go is a road trip from heaven. The protagonists fly from one city to the next. They always have a free place to stay. The breadwinner works from his cell-phone; he has no office. His long time girlfriend is sixth months pregnant, though large as nine (a running joke of the movie). But nothing bad ever happens to this couple.

Likewise, there aren’t many twists and turns in the first two-hundred pages of The Assassination of Jesse James. The writing is excellent often. Occasionally, you cringe at a visceral description. The conversations are interesting. You get upset that Hansen turns a noun into a verb and then he hits you with a shocking slice of 19th century real life that makes it okay. But the situation never gets messy…until yesterday (about page 200 (of 300)).

The Assassination of Jesse James (finally) gets messy, gets complicated, makes you wonder what could possibly happen next. I never felt that way about Away We Go.

One way Hansen, despite his title giving the story away (a very clever decision, it seems now), creates tension is that all characters always feel like they’re in danger, whether it be from each other, from the law, or from their 19th century diet. In Away We Go, the protagonists don’t encounter many problems that a credit card can’t solve.

Hansen also uses many characters and these characters always come back, less they die (still, though, issues of the dead come back in this story). In Away We Go, peripheral characters are dropped when the protagonists move on to the next city. And I can see that the story may drop characters to effect--to enhance, and ultimately, perhaps, to embrace the isolation of their future. But the payoff isn’t there.

It seems to me that the writers of Away We Go deliberately avoid physical harm (or the threat of) as “too easy,” meaning that they want to raise the stakes for these characters in a more original way than physical pain. Indeed, most conflicts in this story are those between characters and the ways they live. The moments where the protagonists are discovering the bizarre lifestyles of family and old friends are the liveliest, funniest, and the ones that we’re probably supposed to have the most invested in.

But I don’t care about the two protagonists from Away We Go, probably because of their seemingly effortless existence. To me, the alternative Away We Go accepts in exchange for dropping the threat of the physical is a conflict of existence. How should we live? Where should we live? Who are our friends? Are we fuck-ups?

But, why should I care if you get married? Or, if you’re a fuck-up? Or, if you’re not a fuck-up, but everyone thinks you are? Or, you’re a fuck-up despite everyone thinking you’re not? Or, whatever.

I could go on and on and on and on about why I don’t care about this movie. I’ve done it in my head. It always comes back to the same thing. There isn’t much in this film that really surprises me. Maybe, it’s so believable it’s boring. Regardless, Away We Go can’t hold my attention because the story is too busy keeping its hands clean.