Rated R for some sexual content, drug use and language
Cast: Philip Seymour Hoffman, Amy Ryan, John Ortiz, Daphne Rubin-Vega, Tom McCarthy
Director: Philip Seymour Hoffman
It's all too easy to forget that movie audiences and filmmakers often approach the art of cinema in opposite ways. Movie-goers generally seek escape. Cinema artisans use the art form as a means of reflection. At least, indie filmmakers do. Philip Seymour Hoffman is a proud member of the latter. His directoral debut, "Jack Goes Boating" is a perfect showcase for his approach to the cinema.
Based on the stage play by Bob Glaudini, the story is not a plot-driven one, choosing instead to focus on two couples; one at the outset of what may or may not turn out to be a lasting union, and another who sees their commitment to one another fall to pieces during the course of the film. The newly-formed couple are Jack (Hoffman) and Connie (Amy Ryan). They are brought together via a blind date set up by their friends Clyde (John Ortiz) and Lucy (Daphne Rubin-Vega). Jack and Clyde both work as limo drivers, but strive for a better lot in life.
Jack and Connie's first date feels a bit unsettled, although that's more because of their respective social awkwardness. As he walks her home, she confesses that she'd like to go boating one day. Of course, it's the middle of winter, so that particular date would be months away. No problem for Jack; it'll give him time to learn to boat and swim.
They, like all people, are insecure. However, both Jack and Connie belong to that specific demographic whose insecurity takes the form of a cloak rather than an internal organ. On the subway, Connie is approached and subsequently attacked, and we're reminded of how chilling it is that predators are inexplicably imbued with the ability to sniff out fear. She winds up in the hospital. Jack visits, they talk, and he agrees to cook for her. He knows nothing about cooking but if he can learn to swim before summer, he can learn to cook by the time Connie is released from the hospital. He's going to make this meal perfect.
Clyde and Lucy seem to be a more successful, more socially accepted couple, but they, too, are mired in their own pit of insecurity. Clyde wears a Bluetooth device whenever he's out in public, yet he actually uses it so seldom to the point where we realize it's there not for convenience, but for self-esteem. Lucy battles her own esteem issues by engaging in a series of extramarital affairs. We learn of one with a chef that lasted two years, and we're hinted that she may be involved with her current boss (Tom McCarthy). Clyde and Lucy's relationship issues exist in a convoluted centrifuge. Both have had affairs, both hold onto their resentments, but they have agreed to "stick it out." Seems noble enough, except that they have unfortunately entered that period in a lot of relationships where they accept the "reality" of their union, and the sadness that accompanies that reality.
Both couples are given equal consideration, although I suspect audience members will identify more with Clyde and Lucy. I've known several couples just like them. Clyde confesses his wife's affair to Jack one night after leaving a restaurant. (In one of the movie's two terrific visual moments, they talk while seated in the limo's front seat on a stormy winter night. A snow plow thunders by, splashes slush onto the windshield. Jack activates the wipers, cleans the windshield, and we see their reflection in the moisture-stained window... it gives the impression of tears streaming down the faces of the two men.)
Lucy fires back, informing Jack that Clyde had an affair first, though he stated it was only one time in the back of the limo. "As if that makes it okay!" she retorts. Fair point, but I do sense a difference. I got the feeling Clyde really was broken up about his mistake. Granted, it was in no way condonable. But I felt he may learn from that mistake and one day enter into a happier union. I'm not so sure about Lucy. To engage in a two year affair, then assume you can just emotionally "re-commit" yourself back into your marriage emphasizes a level of cynicism that I suspect couldn't be fully diminished. The flaws of men may be more obvious, but the cruelty of women is much more far-reaching, as they often convince themselves their acts are justified.
Clyde is as much to blame, as his need to "stick it out" is bred more from his desire to be viewed as successful by those all around him. He is so driven by this need that he doesn't understand that his own clinging to his resentment renders him incapable of making his marriage work. At one point in the film, he saunters behind his wife, wraps his arms around her, cups her breasts. They chuckle. Could it be a rare moment of unbridled passion between them? Then he asks, "Are you happy here?" Lucy remains silent. The expression on her face is devastating. She realizes that she's crushed no so much by her answer to the question, but by the question itself.
Their scenes are intercut with those between Jack and Connie, as they fight through their social ineptitude to grow closer to one another. What makes them interesting, however, is that they're not mere babes in the woods in sharp contrast to a seemingly "successful" couple like Clyde and Lucy. Despite their somewhat clumsy social eccentricities, Jack and Connie are not dumb, and quite perceptive to their friends' crumbling union. After witnessing the final meltdown between Clyde and Lucy, they return to her apartment and in the movie's other wonderful visual moment, they stand close, arms around each other, heads pressed upon the other's shoulder. She whispers to him, "We can be together now. You can overcome me. Don't hurt me. But overcome me." Short-sighted feminists may have a problem with that scene, but it displays a gentle, loving honesty. She senses his apprehension, acknowledges it, and helps him through it by being honest and true. Not like Clyde and Lucy, who try to achieve happiness by never confronting that which makes them sad.
Both Hoffman and Ryan are terrific here. Particularly Ryan, who combines Connie's vulnerability with an internal emotional strength that can be summoned at the most crucial times.
"Jack Goes Boating" is an interesting little observation into the lives of individuals we either are, know, or certainly could know. It's not really a thunderbolt of a movie that'll stay with you for a long time. It has a curious self-contained feel, though perhaps that's inevitable, as films based on stage plays often do. But I admired its thoughtfulness and I embraced its optimism. At the end, we hear in a voice-over conversation Connie telling Jack "You're good." He replies with "I'm good for you." Therein, I think, lies the movie's underlying statement. That realizing you're good for another person is real. Trying to project the notion that you're good for everybody is a fantasy. An emotionally devastating one at that.
* * * out of * * * * stars
