The Savages

The odd and visually appealing opening sequence of Tamara Jenkins', The Savages, led me to believe the movie might veer toward the quirky humour end of the spectrum. Not really so. It has funny moments but it's a fairly intense look at the insidious natures of illness and aging. Within minutes of that lovely opening scene set in the glow of Arizona's desert light, I found myself flinching at the oppressive, hermetically-sealed vision of the state Jenkins puts on display. The feeling of discomfort stayed with me as the film progressed and the Savage siblings (played by Laura Linney and Philip Seymour Hoffman) struggled with their cantankerous father's decline. Linney and Hoffman do an excellent job of turning their characters into flawed, intricate beings and of creating a complicated, believable brother-sister dynamic, without having the crutch of the explicitly revealed backstory to lean on. The movie encapsulates the minutiae of daily reality; what we do to distract ourselves (watching someone do aerobics in front of a TV set has never been more depressing); the way we seek comfort in small kindnesses offered by strangers or in the companionship of a pet; how we achieve degrees of happiness in relationships that aren't always smooth.

Margo Martindale appears about halfway through in a small role. She starred in the final and most affecting segment of Paris je t'aime, which transitioned from funny to heartbreaking so subtly that audience members I saw it with were laughing long beyond the point where laughter seemed appropriate. It was directed by Alexander Payne, who served as an executive producer on The Savages. Payne's fine line tone, consistently employed to great effect in his Paris segment and earlier films like Election, is echoed nicely in Jenkins' comparably effective film.

The New York Times covered The Savages well with a favourable review and an insightful article about the film's evolution and its director.