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Mark Ruffalo: "You Can Count on Me"

 A transgression is a kind of sin--against society, or against oneself. It leads to strange behavior.

In the movie "You Can Count on Me," a woman named Sammy transgresses. She begins sleeping with her married boss. This is maybe a result of wanting to stay employed (Terry and the boss have had issues). Also, the affair might be a useful distraction from Terry's messy love life, involving a great deal of Antia Brookner-ish dishonest conversation with a guy called Bob.

Sammy doesn't really respect herself, and her disastrous affair becomes painful. Alone in her car, Sammy giggles, shrieks, and cries--within a span of two or three seconds. In a silly conversation with her boss/lover, Sammy must defend her computer habits. Someone has been altering the workplace screens to show bright, garish colors. Sammy loathes her boss/lover and her work situation; with only half-concealed contempt, she says, "Listen....my own desktop palate is.....fairly conservative...."

Meanwhile, Sammy's brother, Terry, is at least equally unmoored. Terry sneaks his little nephew out of the house after hours, then encourages his nephew to lie. Terry will lash out at a child without having first collected all of the facts. A part of Terry believes that the world is a terrible place, and he will seek out "evidence" to confirm what he has already decided--and he will do this even if his actions damage an innocent person who deserves better.

Although both Terry and Sammy fall short of A-plus behavior, their creator views them with love and without judgment. These two wounded souls have to help each other--and this is despite the fact that they are almost incapable of tying their own shoes.

Everyone loves "You Can Count on Me," and I think it's partly because the worldview is so complex and so "real." People really are walking dumpster fires. But so many Hollywood scripts forget this. In Hollywood, a protagonist can too easily become a hero. And a hero can become boring--fast.

Kenneth Lonergan knows that we humans continuously lie to one another, and to ourselves. Within the first ninety seconds of his movie, he has a babysitter stepping outside for a moment. Although the ostensible focus of the scene is some earth-shaking news from a police officer, Lonergan is actually more interested in what it means to break a tiny rule. One child says to his babysitter: "You're not supposed to leave us alone in here." The other child whispers: "She is going out there to smoke a cigarette....."

When I watch Lonergan's work, I feel (a) someone is describing my own life to me, and that's the greatest possible miracle that art can pull off....and (b) Lonergan is saying to any writer, Notice how much material you can get from daily affairs. Take the challenge.

I don't think I'll ever get tired of revisiting this movie.
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