HAPPINESS / (1998) **** (out of four)
Todd Solondz, writer and director of "Happiness," describes his perplexing film as "a series of intertwining love stories, stories of connections missed and made between people, how people always struggle to make a connection, and to what degree they succeed or don't." It's about relationships, obsessions, and stunning discoveries both private and social. It contains some very graphic material-enough that the filmmakers released it without an MPAA rating. Even as the film exploits extreme adult themes and graphic content, it does not glamorize or stylize its subjects. Rather, it uses them to paint a disturbing picture of the dark side of human nature.
The film connects with the audience because these characters feel real-they are ordinary people with serious problems. It takes place in a homely suburbia environment in which Solondz draws us in, and eventually pushes us far away with enough provocative content to stand next to "A Clockwork Orange." The movie does, however, know what to show on screen and what not to. It's smart, and indecisive, not dirty and gratuitous. The film defines the character's relationships very well. "Happiness" doesn't explore random, unrelated characters. Their separate lives do, however, connect, and the movie does a great job revealing those connections.
"Happiness" follows a complicated story woven through the lives of many characters. Joy Jordan (Jane Adams), a middle-aged telephone sales person living by herself in New Jersey, longs for a decent relationship after recently breaking up with her boyfriend (Jon Lovitz). Her parents, Mona (Louise Lasser), and Lenny (Ben Gazzara), are pending a divorce through their catalyst neighbor (Elizabeth Ashley). Joy has two sisters: Trish (Cynthia Stevenson), and Helen (Lara Flynn Boyle). Helen brags about how many men lust for her, while Trish is a chripy homemaker married to a therapist named Bill (Dylan Baker). Bill appears to be a typical husband and father, but he is really a homosexual pedofile who masturbates over teen idol magazines and molests the friends of his preteen son, Billy (Rufus Reed). Bill, however, has done a good job at hiding his disturbing feelings from his friends and family.
Billy confronts his father about his developing sexuality, while Bill is also riddled with sex discussions as one of his patients, Allen (Philip Seymour Hoffman) obsessively raves about having sex with Helen. They meet one day when Allen makes one of his usual obscene phone calls, and Helen enjoys his heavy breathing and wants to make love with Allen. A large woman (Camryn Manheim) who lives in the same apartment complex as Allen often knocks at his door. She likes Allen, but he is too busy shuffling through porno magazines and making explicit phone calls to random women to notice those feelings.
In the production notes, producer Ted Hope describes Todd Solondz's vision as "comedic tragedy. Todd knows how to maintain that fine balance between heartbreak and humor. You're often unsure whether to laugh or cry." The dialogue, always riveting and thought-provoking, sometimes shocking with its irony and explicitness, often perplexes us; we are not quite sure how to respond to such phrases.
Take a scene where Bill exchanges a conversation with the coach of his son's baseball team we're not sure whether to laugh or weep-we feel a little humor and sadness mixed. The coach is concerned of his own son's sexual status-he is afraid his kid is homosexual. Here's what their conversation involves:
Coach: What do you think would happen if I got him a professional... you know... Bill: A professional? Coach: Hooker. You know, the kind that can teach things... first-timers, you know... break him in. Bill: But Joe, he's 11. Coach: You're right, you're right. It's too late.
Ironic how I screened Neil Lebute's sexually provocative "Your Friends & Neighbors," just days after this astonishing production. Both movies honestly examine deep human despair in disturbing, frank detail. I remember the dialogue in both films. A specific scene in "Happiness" where Billy asks his father some very difficult questions about molestation. His father answers his son honestly, no matter how difficult the questions got.
I compare that scene to the scene in "Your Friend's & Neighbors" where three men relax in a steam room, and the character played by Jason Patrick verbally remembers his best sexual experience. These sequences require numerous viewing. They stare into the deep, dark crevices of the heart, and we can only watch in bafflement at the thought-provoking power these movies have and how they challenge our perspectives. "Happiness" is one of the better films of the year.
Todd Solondz, writer and director of "Happiness," describes his perplexing film as "a series of intertwining love stories, stories of connections missed and made between people, how people always struggle to make a connection, and to what degree they succeed or don't." It's about relationships, obsessions, and stunning discoveries both private and social. It contains some very graphic material-enough that the filmmakers released it without an MPAA rating. Even as the film exploits extreme adult themes and graphic content, it does not glamorize or stylize its subjects. Rather, it uses them to paint a disturbing picture of the dark side of human nature.
The film connects with the audience because these characters feel real-they are ordinary people with serious problems. It takes place in a homely suburbia environment in which Solondz draws us in, and eventually pushes us far away with enough provocative content to stand next to "A Clockwork Orange." The movie does, however, know what to show on screen and what not to. It's smart, and indecisive, not dirty and gratuitous. The film defines the character's relationships very well. "Happiness" doesn't explore random, unrelated characters. Their separate lives do, however, connect, and the movie does a great job revealing those connections.
"Happiness" follows a complicated story woven through the lives of many characters. Joy Jordan (Jane Adams), a middle-aged telephone sales person living by herself in New Jersey, longs for a decent relationship after recently breaking up with her boyfriend (Jon Lovitz). Her parents, Mona (Louise Lasser), and Lenny (Ben Gazzara), are pending a divorce through their catalyst neighbor (Elizabeth Ashley). Joy has two sisters: Trish (Cynthia Stevenson), and Helen (Lara Flynn Boyle). Helen brags about how many men lust for her, while Trish is a chripy homemaker married to a therapist named Bill (Dylan Baker). Bill appears to be a typical husband and father, but he is really a homosexual pedofile who masturbates over teen idol magazines and molests the friends of his preteen son, Billy (Rufus Reed). Bill, however, has done a good job at hiding his disturbing feelings from his friends and family.
Billy confronts his father about his developing sexuality, while Bill is also riddled with sex discussions as one of his patients, Allen (Philip Seymour Hoffman) obsessively raves about having sex with Helen. They meet one day when Allen makes one of his usual obscene phone calls, and Helen enjoys his heavy breathing and wants to make love with Allen. A large woman (Camryn Manheim) who lives in the same apartment complex as Allen often knocks at his door. She likes Allen, but he is too busy shuffling through porno magazines and making explicit phone calls to random women to notice those feelings.
In the production notes, producer Ted Hope describes Todd Solondz's vision as "comedic tragedy. Todd knows how to maintain that fine balance between heartbreak and humor. You're often unsure whether to laugh or cry." The dialogue, always riveting and thought-provoking, sometimes shocking with its irony and explicitness, often perplexes us; we are not quite sure how to respond to such phrases.
Take a scene where Bill exchanges a conversation with the coach of his son's baseball team we're not sure whether to laugh or weep-we feel a little humor and sadness mixed. The coach is concerned of his own son's sexual status-he is afraid his kid is homosexual. Here's what their conversation involves:
Coach: What do you think would happen if I got him a professional... you know... Bill: A professional? Coach: Hooker. You know, the kind that can teach things... first-timers, you know... break him in. Bill: But Joe, he's 11. Coach: You're right, you're right. It's too late.
Ironic how I screened Neil Lebute's sexually provocative "Your Friends & Neighbors," just days after this astonishing production. Both movies honestly examine deep human despair in disturbing, frank detail. I remember the dialogue in both films. A specific scene in "Happiness" where Billy asks his father some very difficult questions about molestation. His father answers his son honestly, no matter how difficult the questions got.
I compare that scene to the scene in "Your Friend's & Neighbors" where three men relax in a steam room, and the character played by Jason Patrick verbally remembers his best sexual experience. These sequences require numerous viewing. They stare into the deep, dark crevices of the heart, and we can only watch in bafflement at the thought-provoking power these movies have and how they challenge our perspectives. "Happiness" is one of the better films of the year.