There's a sense of mystery in "Gloria Bell." Our heroine listens to her deranged upstairs neighbor. She tries to get help for the neighbor. In Gloria's solitude, there's a sense that the neighbor's despair might become "infectious." (Misery loves company.) At one point, the deranged neighbor seems to accost Gloria; he leaves a strange bag on her doormat. The contents of the bag are never revealed to us--and I love that. Maybe the contents are a mystery to Gloria herself. Life's randomness, life's weirdness, is nicely "captured" here.
-There's a theme concerning cycles and circles. Holland Taylor appears and lectures Gloria: "You can't know how quickly life goes by." Gloria: "Yes, Mom. You tell me that every ten years." We later see Gloria drunkenly flying around on a kind of playground tilt-a-whirl. She is at point A, and leaves, and returns to point A, again and again and again. ("Yes, Mom. You tell me that every ten years.") Finally, in the scene's last moments, Gloria is literally spinning on the dance floor. Moving, returning to spot A, moving, returning to spot A.
It seems to me that these circles are all a way of suggesting that--while Gloria may go through significant adventures--a core part of Gloria remains the same, always. She really endangers herself in Las Vegas; shoeless, drunk, asleep by a pool, she is not acting like a grown woman. Given the possibility of assault, it's possible to argue that Gloria puts her life at risk. Does she "grow" from this? That's left a bit open-ended.
We see her dancing at the end, as she was at the beginning. ("You tell me the same thing every ten years.")
-Someone once said, of "Girls," that "every single character has at least one mental illness." I love that in "Gloria Bell," as well. We're so lost in our own heads. An embittered, aging father has to make his child's birthday about something it's not about: "I wasn't there for you," he shouts, randomly, irrelevantly, in the middle of the festivities. Likewise, Michael Cera seems to be working his way through a standard check-in phone call--but the call can't get far before the deranged pseudo-ex-wife asks if "my baby is asking for me," and Cera, incapable of being playful, screams, "Babies don't talk!" We try to go about our lives in a civil way--we, the walking wounded.
We try--but our infant-selves have other plans.
To me, that's a big part of what this movie is addressing.
-There's a theme concerning cycles and circles. Holland Taylor appears and lectures Gloria: "You can't know how quickly life goes by." Gloria: "Yes, Mom. You tell me that every ten years." We later see Gloria drunkenly flying around on a kind of playground tilt-a-whirl. She is at point A, and leaves, and returns to point A, again and again and again. ("Yes, Mom. You tell me that every ten years.") Finally, in the scene's last moments, Gloria is literally spinning on the dance floor. Moving, returning to spot A, moving, returning to spot A.
It seems to me that these circles are all a way of suggesting that--while Gloria may go through significant adventures--a core part of Gloria remains the same, always. She really endangers herself in Las Vegas; shoeless, drunk, asleep by a pool, she is not acting like a grown woman. Given the possibility of assault, it's possible to argue that Gloria puts her life at risk. Does she "grow" from this? That's left a bit open-ended.
We see her dancing at the end, as she was at the beginning. ("You tell me the same thing every ten years.")
-Someone once said, of "Girls," that "every single character has at least one mental illness." I love that in "Gloria Bell," as well. We're so lost in our own heads. An embittered, aging father has to make his child's birthday about something it's not about: "I wasn't there for you," he shouts, randomly, irrelevantly, in the middle of the festivities. Likewise, Michael Cera seems to be working his way through a standard check-in phone call--but the call can't get far before the deranged pseudo-ex-wife asks if "my baby is asking for me," and Cera, incapable of being playful, screams, "Babies don't talk!" We try to go about our lives in a civil way--we, the walking wounded.
We try--but our infant-selves have other plans.
To me, that's a big part of what this movie is addressing.
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