One of my favorite things to do by myself is to go to the movies, especially if it's a movie that might make me cry a little. There's something about it that's so liberating and calming; watching and thinking and quietly crying to yourself in a dark theatre surrounded by strangers.
So this past Saturday, I awoke at 9am (internal alarm clock sucks) and showered off Friday night's festivities. Then I picked up a bagel and iced tea at the corner cafe and hopped on a bus to the AMC 14 to see a 10:50am showing of The Kids Are All Right, a film I have been wanting to see since I read rave reviews from this year's Sundance. Though I probably could have found a few people to see it with me, I was tired of waiting on the agendas of friends. And I knew it was the perfect movie to see alone; whereas if I had seen Inception without the party of five that joined me, I would have been utterly disappointed when I had nobody to debrief me on the timeline of dreams.
When I walked into the theatre there were about fifteen people already seated, most of whom were in groups of 2 or 3, but a few solo viewers like myself. I settled into my seat, lifted my feet to rest on the seat in front of me, and silenced my phone - normal things one would do when attending the movies with friends. Fortunately, the previews weren't too enticing and nothing I hadn't already seen so I didn't feel left out when I had nobody next to me to whisper "I want to see that!"
Now, on to the film itself... You may have heard some ignorant folk describe this film as "the lesbian movie" - so wrong. Yes, there are two lesbian women in the film who play the role of the concerned parents, Julianne Moore and Annette Bening. They worry that their son might be getting into trouble with his crude friend, they're proud of their daughter's high school accomplishments but sad about her going off to college, and they work hard on keeping their marriage successful - with regards to sex, social activities, and of course playfully picking at each others faults. Sounds like "normal" straight parents, right?
This is not a family film, but it is certainly about family. When Joanie, the daughter played wonderfully by Mia Wasikowska, turns eighteen her fifteen-year-old brother, Laser (Josh Hutcherson) - who is longing for a fatherly relationship like the ones he sees with his pals and their dads - begs her to reach out to the sperm doner who is seemingly an integral part of their family. After some thought, Joanie reaches out to the sperm bank and gives permission to be reached by her doner, Paul (Mark Ruffalo). Paul is a motorcycle-riding, successful farmer/local restaurant owner who we later find out dropped out of college because it "wasn't his thing" to pursue his passion for cooking. Needless to say, the moms aren't thrilled to learn of their kids evolving relationship with Paul, but they try to embrace it for the sake of their children. Paul is more than happy to acquire his insta-family without the real burdens of fatherhood, but he soon learns that parenting is a lot harder than it seems - or does he?
Without giving too much away on the plot, I will say that there are some unexpected turns and folds that will leave you aching and tearing up, making you feel as though you're a part of this onscreen family. I cried. Twice. It felt great. Julianne Moore and Mark Ruffalo are outstanding as their characters, and Ruffalo may even get a Golden Globe nod. Wasikowska shines once again, proving that this is only the beginning of what's going to be a tremendous career in acting, but the real show-stopper is Bening. Her portrayal of a tense, worrisome mother who balances running her house with her demanding job as a doctor, indulging in the more than occasional glass of wine to calm herself down (that description sounds eerily like my own father) - is exquisite and outstanding. The film was a truly wonderful and eye-opening viewing experience, and I recommend it to anyone who does or doesn't know a thing or two about family - I think that includes all of us. And if you can't find anyone to join you, catch a weekend matinee... tout seul.
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