Skip to main content

Meryl Streep: “Kramer vs. Kramer"

 "Kramer vs. Kramer" is electrifying from start to finish. It won Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor, Best Supporting Actress, and several other prizes, and its "less starry" contributors (Justin Henry and Jane Alexander) were also up for Oscars. The movie helped to pave the way for a "troubled-family" decade of movie-making. ("Ordinary People" won Best Picture exactly one year later, and we had "Heartburn" and "The Good Mother" and other family/marital dramas....served up throughout the 1980s.....)


In "Kramer"'s outstanding first fight, Joanna Kramer quietly confronts her husband. "I canceled the AmEx, the Visa. I removed $2,000 from our account, because that's what I had when we married. I took the dry cleaning out, and you will need to get it on Saturday. YOU, Ted. I can't do this. Our child is better off without me."

Amazingly, Ted doesn't hear, and when he does finally stop for a moment, he frames Joanna's announcement as a little career-related irritant. "Do you understand I'm up for a promotion? Wow, you picked the right time to do this...."

Joanna drags herself to the elevator and says, "I don't love you anymore." The door slides shut. What a start!

I don't really like the adults in this movie, although I feel for both "senior" Kramers. I'm in this for the little kid, Billy -- and this is surely what the director wants from me.

"Kramer vs. Kramer" gives to Billy the same loving attention it gives to that opening smackdown. Billy grows agitated as his father fucks up the French toast recipe: eggs in a drinking glass, shell crumbs in the goo, milkless mushiness. In one of the great (improvised!) scenes in cinema history, Ted Kramer becomes annoyed by his son's picky diet. "You will not touch that ice cream until you have your vegetables." Billy sees a rare opportunity to exert power -- and he shovels the ice cream into his mouth. Locked in physical combat with his dad, he screams, "I hate you!" And Ted says, "Well, you're no picnic, just so you know." After the two have established a bond, Billy asks to hear about the New York of the 1950s, and Ted begins describing the milkman, the used bookstore, the different auto safety regulations, the various outdated rituals involved in a trip to the bank. We see Billy's world expanding -- just as he listens, right before falling asleep. And we see what Billy would lose if he moved away from his father.

"Kramer vs. Kramer" is part of Fucked Up Family February -- a subsection of my favorite podcast, the Rewatchables. Other entries include "The Ice Storm" and "Ordinary People." (I'm eager to see these, too.)

It's inspiring to note what you can do with just two people talking in a room -- if you're a diligent writer, and you're paying attention.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...
3 comments
Read more

Joshie

  When I was growing up, a class birthday involved Hostess cupcakes. Often, the cupcakes would come in a shoebox, so you could taste a leathery residue (during the party). Times change. You can't bring a treat into a public school, in 2024, because heaven knows what kind of allergies might lurk, in unseen corners, in the classroom. But Joshua's teacher will allow: a dance party, a pajama day, or a guest reader. I chose to bring a story for Joshua's birthday (observed), but I didn't think through the role that anxiety might play in this interaction. We talk, in this house, quite a bit about anxiety; one game-changer, for J, has been a daily list of activities, so that he knows exactly what to expect. He gets a look of profound satisfaction when he sees the agenda; it doesn't really matter what the specific events happen to be. It's just about knowing, "I can anticipate X, Y, and Z." Joshua struggled with his celebration. He wore his nervousness on his f...
2 comments
Read more

Josh at Five

 Joshie's project is "flexibility"; the goal is to see that a plan is just an idea, not a gospel, not a guarantee. This is difficult. Yesterday, we went to a restaurant--billed as "open," with unlocked doors--and the owner informed us of an "error in advertising." But Joshie couldn't accept the word "closed." He threw himself on the floor, then climbed on the furniture. I felt for the owner, until he nervously made a reference to "the glass windows." He imagined that my child might toss himself through a sealed window, like Mary Katherine Gallagher, or like Bruce Willis, in "Die Hard." Then--thank the Lord!--I was able to laugh. The thing that really has therapeutic value for Joshie is: a firetruck. If we are out in public, and he spots a parked truck, he wants to climb on each surface. He breathlessly alludes to the wheels, the door, the windows. If an actual fire station ("fire ocean," in Joshie's parla...
Post a Comment
Read more