Stuff I'm Watching

I just rewatched "The Night House," which has an excellent Rebecca Hall front and center. (When people talk about Hall, they use the epithet "always outstanding," and here is a case where I'm part of the hive mind.)

In this movie, Hall's husband has just murdered himself. Hall is full of rage, but she insists on going back to the high school where she teaches. A mother comes in to complain about her child's grade.

"Who's your kid?" says Hall. "Hunter Y? Hunter Y. It's just that I have so many Hunters...."

The mother is taken aback. "How many Hunters?"

And Hall--clearly lying--says: "Three."

The mother makes her case, and Rebecca Hall grows bored. "I see," she says. "All this happened on the last day of school. I was out because my husband had shot himself. In the brain. With a gun. I didn't even know we owned the gun!"

The mother grows uncomfortable.

"Anyway," says Hall. "Do you want a B for your son? Or how about an A? Let's make it an A. I don't give a fuck."

Rebecca Hall made an important movie with Catherine Keener--"Please Give"--and I have a theory that Keener has inspired Hall. Keener is wonderful at depicting transgressions; her characters speak at length about their smelly sponges, steal antiques from old people, and confuse grungy Princeton professors with representatives of "the unhoused." I think Hall may have studied Keener's bewitching rudeness--then turned in her own Keener-esque performances, in both "Christine" and "Night House."

That's just my guess.

I'm looking forward to Hall's next film; it arrives this August.

Comments

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...

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...

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...

Liars and Saints

Search This Blog