3.5 stars. Rated PG-13, for dramatic intensity, mild profanity and discreet sensuality
By Derrick Bang
It seems such a reasonable
request.
You work a job for 23 years,
building up a respectable pension, and then — tragically — a health crisis
strikes. Death now will come much sooner, as opposed to the “later” we all hope
for. One therefore assumes that you’d be allowed to assign your pension funds
to any loved one of choice: spouse, parent, child. Why should it matter?
It mattered in New Jersey in 2005
— one short decade ago — when the requested recipient was a “domestic partner.”
Freeheld, director Peter Sollett’s heartfelt
adaptation of those events, is anchored by compelling and deeply nuanced
performances from Julianne Moore and Ellen Page. Ron Nyswaner’s script deftly
compresses the key events, while focusing on the touching interpersonal dynamic
between the two principal characters.
The result is something in the
way of social commentary and advocacy cinema: a narrative model with which
Nyswaner is quite familiar, having been Oscar-nominated for his script to
1993’s AIDS drama, Philadelphia.
Moore, whose Hollywood career has
been impressively varied, stars as Laurel Hester, a well-respected veteran of
New Jersey’s Ocean County police force. She takes her job seriously, and —
thanks to Moore’s carefully shaded performance — we detect a slight chip on
Laurel’s shoulder, likely the hardened perseverance of a woman who has had to
work twice as hard as her male colleagues, probably for half as much
recognition.
It’s also clear that her private
life is very private, her sexual
preference having been concealed even from longtime partner Dane Wells (Michael
Shannon). But Laurel isn’t a hermit. Most recently, while participating in a
volleyball league across town, she meets the much younger Stacie Andree (Page),
who confidently acts on what she perceives as a possible shared attraction.
Stacie isn’t wrong; the spark is
genuine, even if Laurel takes awhile to lower a career’s worth of defenses. The
embryonic relationship is sweet, although not without setbacks; Laurel finds it
difficult to be as openly expressive as her new partner. That’d be the age
difference, at least in part; Stacie belongs to a generation that doesn’t feel
quite the same need to hide.
Which is interesting, mostly
because of the intriguing duality that Page brings to Stacie. She’s bold and
yet shy; sure of herself but almost pathologically afraid to speak in public.
She rarely raises her eyes when talking, her voice muted almost below
audibility. Despite an outward display of hardy self-assurance, Stacie also
seems oddly vulnerable: a timid waif who, occasional righteous indignation
notwithstanding, seems ill-equipped to weather the hostility that she must have
encountered many times, by this point in her life.
It’s also fascinating to see how
Page makes Stacie seem even smaller than the actress’ already diminutive
5-foot-1 stature.
But in Laurel’s presence, Stacie
blossoms like a flower welcoming the blazing sun; it’s wonderful to see Page’s bashful
little face turn incandescent. Laurel, in turn, becomes more comfortable in her
own skin, particularly as the strength of the bond grants her the security to
do so.
They register as domestic
partners; they buy a house; they adopt a dog ... all the comfortable suburban
things that “normal” people do.
Then, the crisis: Laurel is
diagnosed with terminal lung cancer, her remaining life likely to be measured
in months, rather than years. She petitions the Board of Chosen Freeholders —
the local legislature in each of New Jersey’s 21 counties — to be allowed to
pass her pension on to Stacie. The five-man panel refuses.
And thus begins Laurel’s
seemingly futile quest for justice.
It’s an important story, and one
which already has been detailed in Cynthia Wade’s deeply moving 2007
documentary of the same title (which won an Academy Award for Best Short
Documentary, after having earned a Special Jury Prize at Sundance). Sollett,
Nyswaner and their cast honor that legacy with a dramatized account that covers
the essential emotional beats without becoming exploitative.
Thus, while we’ve no doubt of
Laurel’s descent into cancer-riddled emaciation — just as we never question the
depth of the loving relationship she shares with Stacie — Sollett never
lingers, and Nyswaner’s scripted dialog never sounds strident or artificially
melodramatic.
I’m particularly impressed by
Shannon’s work as Laurel’s partner. Wells describes himself as a conservative
Republican who never paid much attention to social issues or gay rights; no surprise,
then, that he initially balks upon learning of his longtime colleague’s sexual
preference. But he’s also a good man who respects and loves Laurel in his own
way, and Shannon lets us observe how this man’s indignation — over the
Freeholders’ decision — eventually extinguishes all uncertainty.
He soon comes to share Laurel’s
goal, despite the hazing this provokes from fellow cops.
Unfortunately...
Moore, Page and Shannon fully
inhabit characters that have been persuasively sketched by Nyswaner’s script.
The same cannot be said of Steve Carell, who, in his performance as LGBT
activist Steven Goldstein — loudly Jewish, loudly gay — makes the man an
overblown clown. It also yanks us wholly out of the drama, particularly during
his introductory scene.
It’s a terrible casting choice,
because Carell is simply too much himself.
Goldstein may well have been an impassioned circus barker during his
organization’s increasingly raucous appearances before the Board of
Freeholders, but reality and dramatic consistency are two entirely different
things. In the context of this film, Carell severely damages the story being
told.
Dennis Boutsikaris exudes shallow,
insincere sympathy (“We are anguished”)
as Pat Gerry, chair of the Freeholders: a man unwilling to make unnecessary
waves. Tom McGowan’s Bill Johnson is the token religious conservative among the
Freeholders, arguing that to grant Laurel’s request would violate the sanctity
of marriage.
Josh Charles, finally, gives a
thoughtful performance as Bryan Kelder, the lone Freeholder with a conscience.
Even so, political sensitivity blunts his willingness to challenge the other
board members ... to a point. Mina Sundwall has a nice little part as Maya
Kelder, the disappointed teenage daughter who argues her father into better
behavior.
The two remaining board members
remain largely faceless and inconsequential. It’s also important to understand
that whereas Laurel, Stacie, Wells and Goldstein are real-world individuals,
the names of all five Freeholders have been changed, no doubt to avoid lawsuits
... because — to put it bluntly — their collective behavior is rather shameful.
Moore’s
phenomenal lead performance notwithstanding — she’s so exquisitely precise
here, as she was in last year’s Still Alice — there’s a predictable and superficial quality to Sollett’s handling
of this film: a “movie of the week” tone that isn’t helped by Carell’s overblown
performance. This dramatized version of Laurel Hester’s grim crusade deserves
our attention for historical purposes, and for Moore’s excellent work ... but Wade’s
earlier documentary remains a better document of these events.
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