On "Beatriz" and the Mighty Mike White
-Many years ago, I attended a dinner amidst great scads of money. This was Old Money; this was money so old, it felt comfortable without flaunting itself; this was seal-yourself-off-from-the-loud-and-trendy-world money. The host's father interrupted a story of mine, loudly misinterpreted the story, then corrected his misinterpreted version of my (valid, accurate) story as if that misinterpreted version were the story that had actually just been aired, or half-aired. When someone observed to him that he'd made a mistake, he didn't apologize, but did a half-shrug. At least, I think it was a half-shrug; I blinked, and almost missed it. At another point, my host complained that he'd donated heaps of cash to a powerful academic institution--an institution that he and his own father had attended--and, still, this institution had not admitted his unqualified son. "I know he wasn't academically qualified, but I'm just angry." This confession hung in the air. How could anyone respond? Later, my host expressed frustration that certain youth elements were protesting the naming of an institution after a dead white man. "Well, dead white men shaped and defined the country. I mean, that's that. What do these young people expect?"
-I think of this host--not an evil person, just insufferable--when I think of Mike White's "Beatriz at Dinner." People suspected, with the John Lithgow character, that White was writing about Trump, but I don't think he was. The strong have been trampling on the weak forever--for years, years, centuries before Trump came on the scene. White seems to understand--better than most writers, I think--how universal the experience of pain is, and how the phenomenon of troglodyte behavior seems to grow out of pain. He has compassion for his bullies. The John Lithgow character is really awful. He hunts wild animals in South Africa, and purports to believe that hunting "is the only way to save these majestic creatures." He assumes that Salma Hayek's character is "the waitress," because "you were hovering, so..." When Hayek says, "I think I've met you before," Lithgow, shockingly, asks, "Have you ever worked in a strip club?" When Hayek begins to describe her background, Lithgow interrupts to inquire: "Were you a legal immigrant?" (Lead with your own story! I learned, once, at a "diversity training session." You aren't always entitled to ask questions.) With palpable condescension, Lithgow chooses not to hear Hayek's description of her fairly intricate work; "That's great," he says, smugly. "You're working. You're contributing. Great." White doesn't excuse any of this behavior, but he does seem to understand Lithgow; as in "Enlightened," White isn't interested in drawing cartoon villains. (How can you not have some compassion for Dougie, the great antagonist in "Enlightened," who does terrible things to Amy Jellicoe, and who also seems so, so desperately alone?) By the same token, White doesn't want to make his heroines spotless. Amy Jellicoe does indeed fuck over her colleagues, especially Tyler; Amy does intrude where she isn't wanted and create problems for other people without apologizing. Salma Hayek's "Beatriz" throws a phone at a dinner guest, tells her well-meaning friend to "shut up," and obnoxiously ignores social cues, over and over. She isn't purely innocent in this story. Her Final Act suicide is aggressive, irritating, anti-social; it's startling, but it's in keeping with the behavior she has shown throughout the movie. ("I know Lithgow," says Beatriz. "He killed my goat." Lithgow himself didn't do the killing--and Beatriz knows this--but he is part of a titanic, destructive force that kills goats--kills undocumented workers, trees, aquatic life--almost gleefully, at random. Beatriz, like an Anita Brookner heroine, recognizes that the stupid, loud, and bully-ish are a fact of life. They are ever-present. She can't take it anymore.)
-There's a wonderful scene in "Beatriz" when the Connie Britton and Amy Landecker characters gather around an iPhone to view tabloid footage of an STD-infected startlet's vagina. "It's so horrible, on so many levels, but I can't stop looking." This is Classic White. It's an observation of gratuitous cruelty and complicit behavior. Why are people drawn to the idea of hurting one another--over and over? The question seems to be a governing force in White's own writing career. He became so exasperated with Fox--a stand-in for Abaddon, for the John Lithgow character--that he had a public nervous breakdown and found himself hospitalized. His father writes angry, exasperated letters to anti-gay activists--writes them over and over again, as if these people will have late-in-life conversions. Cruelty and stupidity are here to stay, says White; they are implacable forces. What is to be done about that?
-White once tried to "spread his wings" as a writer. He would write genre flicks! He would write his own version of "Rosemary's Baby"! But then he realized he had one story to tell. The story is about a woman--not wholly unimpeachable--who tries, and fails, to do battle with a cold, irredeemable world. It's the story of "Enlightened"--so far--and it's the story of "Beatriz at Dinner." I suspect it's the story of "Year of the Dog." White now tells his one story with gusto, in varying formats. "You have to love what you're writing, because the work is so hard. You have to have wind in your sails." Whenever I see White's Tyler on screen, I smile; he's like a quiet voice of common sense in a noisy world. Of course someone so sane would have spent time in a mental institution. He reminds me a bit of Richard Yates. Is there a higher compliment?
https://www.google.com/search?q=beatriz+at+dinner+trailer&oq=beatriz+at+dinner+trailer&aqs=chrome.0.69i59j0l5.4205j0j7&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8
-Many years ago, I attended a dinner amidst great scads of money. This was Old Money; this was money so old, it felt comfortable without flaunting itself; this was seal-yourself-off-from-the-loud-and-trendy-world money. The host's father interrupted a story of mine, loudly misinterpreted the story, then corrected his misinterpreted version of my (valid, accurate) story as if that misinterpreted version were the story that had actually just been aired, or half-aired. When someone observed to him that he'd made a mistake, he didn't apologize, but did a half-shrug. At least, I think it was a half-shrug; I blinked, and almost missed it. At another point, my host complained that he'd donated heaps of cash to a powerful academic institution--an institution that he and his own father had attended--and, still, this institution had not admitted his unqualified son. "I know he wasn't academically qualified, but I'm just angry." This confession hung in the air. How could anyone respond? Later, my host expressed frustration that certain youth elements were protesting the naming of an institution after a dead white man. "Well, dead white men shaped and defined the country. I mean, that's that. What do these young people expect?"
-I think of this host--not an evil person, just insufferable--when I think of Mike White's "Beatriz at Dinner." People suspected, with the John Lithgow character, that White was writing about Trump, but I don't think he was. The strong have been trampling on the weak forever--for years, years, centuries before Trump came on the scene. White seems to understand--better than most writers, I think--how universal the experience of pain is, and how the phenomenon of troglodyte behavior seems to grow out of pain. He has compassion for his bullies. The John Lithgow character is really awful. He hunts wild animals in South Africa, and purports to believe that hunting "is the only way to save these majestic creatures." He assumes that Salma Hayek's character is "the waitress," because "you were hovering, so..." When Hayek says, "I think I've met you before," Lithgow, shockingly, asks, "Have you ever worked in a strip club?" When Hayek begins to describe her background, Lithgow interrupts to inquire: "Were you a legal immigrant?" (Lead with your own story! I learned, once, at a "diversity training session." You aren't always entitled to ask questions.) With palpable condescension, Lithgow chooses not to hear Hayek's description of her fairly intricate work; "That's great," he says, smugly. "You're working. You're contributing. Great." White doesn't excuse any of this behavior, but he does seem to understand Lithgow; as in "Enlightened," White isn't interested in drawing cartoon villains. (How can you not have some compassion for Dougie, the great antagonist in "Enlightened," who does terrible things to Amy Jellicoe, and who also seems so, so desperately alone?) By the same token, White doesn't want to make his heroines spotless. Amy Jellicoe does indeed fuck over her colleagues, especially Tyler; Amy does intrude where she isn't wanted and create problems for other people without apologizing. Salma Hayek's "Beatriz" throws a phone at a dinner guest, tells her well-meaning friend to "shut up," and obnoxiously ignores social cues, over and over. She isn't purely innocent in this story. Her Final Act suicide is aggressive, irritating, anti-social; it's startling, but it's in keeping with the behavior she has shown throughout the movie. ("I know Lithgow," says Beatriz. "He killed my goat." Lithgow himself didn't do the killing--and Beatriz knows this--but he is part of a titanic, destructive force that kills goats--kills undocumented workers, trees, aquatic life--almost gleefully, at random. Beatriz, like an Anita Brookner heroine, recognizes that the stupid, loud, and bully-ish are a fact of life. They are ever-present. She can't take it anymore.)
-There's a wonderful scene in "Beatriz" when the Connie Britton and Amy Landecker characters gather around an iPhone to view tabloid footage of an STD-infected startlet's vagina. "It's so horrible, on so many levels, but I can't stop looking." This is Classic White. It's an observation of gratuitous cruelty and complicit behavior. Why are people drawn to the idea of hurting one another--over and over? The question seems to be a governing force in White's own writing career. He became so exasperated with Fox--a stand-in for Abaddon, for the John Lithgow character--that he had a public nervous breakdown and found himself hospitalized. His father writes angry, exasperated letters to anti-gay activists--writes them over and over again, as if these people will have late-in-life conversions. Cruelty and stupidity are here to stay, says White; they are implacable forces. What is to be done about that?
-White once tried to "spread his wings" as a writer. He would write genre flicks! He would write his own version of "Rosemary's Baby"! But then he realized he had one story to tell. The story is about a woman--not wholly unimpeachable--who tries, and fails, to do battle with a cold, irredeemable world. It's the story of "Enlightened"--so far--and it's the story of "Beatriz at Dinner." I suspect it's the story of "Year of the Dog." White now tells his one story with gusto, in varying formats. "You have to love what you're writing, because the work is so hard. You have to have wind in your sails." Whenever I see White's Tyler on screen, I smile; he's like a quiet voice of common sense in a noisy world. Of course someone so sane would have spent time in a mental institution. He reminds me a bit of Richard Yates. Is there a higher compliment?
https://www.google.com/search?q=beatriz+at+dinner+trailer&oq=beatriz+at+dinner+trailer&aqs=chrome.0.69i59j0l5.4205j0j7&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8
I <3 <3 <3 Mike White.
ReplyDeletehe does quiet smart existential sad, with a swirl of absurd funniness, so perfectly.
Did you know that he and his father participated as a team on The Amazing Race?? It's the only time I ever made time for that show. I'd watch it again.
I heard about the "Amazing Race" spot but have not watched! His writing on HBO is so much better than 99 percent of what I'm used to. And it's *very much* its own thing. (Are there degrees of "its-own-thing-iness"--? If so, it is 1000 degrees of its own thing!)
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