Showing posts with label Matthew Modine. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Matthew Modine. Show all posts

Monday, January 15, 2018

The Long -- and Painful -- Goodbye



Marco (Matthew Modine): You're losing time, Mr. Cregg.

Talmidge Cregg (Donald Moffat): That, son, I am.

Allison Janney, who played C.J. on the West Wing, was seldom the focus of episodes.

But in the episode that first aired on this night in 2003, "The Long Goodbye," Janney was the focal point as her character returned to her hometown of Dayton, Ohio, to give a speech at her high school reunion.

Because it was such a departure from the norm, it was one of the best episodes of the series — which added to its history of shedding light on the kinds of battles that people have to wage in the shadows every day.

The goodbye in the title referred not to her high school friendships but to her father (Donald Moffat), who had been living with Alzheimer's disease. That was the primary reason for C.J.'s trip home — to check on her father.

So while her White House colleagues were mentioned in the episode, most were not seen or heard. Those who were seen and/or heard were only on the screen briefly.

Most of the episode was a glimpse into C.J.'s life — which, aside from her high–profile job, was really no different from anyone else's.

High school reunions are a common enough experience, I suppose, although most of us don't get asked to give a speech at one. For the White House press secretary, it goes with the territory.

As life expectancy increases, more people find themselves in the position of caring for aging parents, as C.J. did, and Alzheimer's is a health issue for more and more of the elderly. That was probably the thing that C.J. had in common with many of those who saw this episode 15 years ago tonight.

Her challenges certainly were familiar to me. My family had to deal with my Alzheimer's–stricken grandmother, who lingered for nearly a decade before she died. She would have been appalled to know what a burden her well–being had been for my mother (who juggled her teaching career and her obligation to her mother until it was finally too much for her and she had to explore round–the–clock options), but she had no choice.

No one did. No one does when Alzheimer's is part of the equation.

It was easier for my mother than it was for C.J., though, because at least my mother lived in the same city with my grandmother. C.J. was about 400 miles away from her father. She couldn't just pop in after work to see how he was doing.

So the reunion provided her with the ideal excuse to do just that.

Dealing with an Alzheimer's patient is a roller–coaster ride for the primary caregiver, especially when that caregiver must provide care from afar. In the early stages of my grandmother's affliction, that was how my mother had to handle things, but they lived in the same city when things got worse — as things inevitably do for Alzheimer's patients.

As difficult as it was for C.J., it was just as difficult for her stepmother, who had finally had enough and left C.J.'s father. When C.J. learned what had happened, it led to a huge quarrel between the two.

I often admired the writing on the West Wing — but perhaps never as much as I did when I saw this episode, and possibly most when C.J. argued with her stepmother. The dialogue was honest and human. Alzheimer's is frightening and frustrating for everyone — the patient and the caregiver(s) — and the script emphasized that.

I don't want to overlook some truly impressive performances. I thought Moffat gave a powerful one as C.J.'s father. His character had once been a respected educator; now he found himself careening from one extreme to the other with no notice. As long as they retain the power of speech, Alzheimer's patients also retain the ability to veer from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde without warning. Anyone who has ever been close to an Alzheimer's patient will confirm that.

My grandmother stopped speaking after a few years and spent the last six or seven years of her life unable to communicate. It probably saved all of us a lot of grief. Lord knows the situation was stressful enough as it was. Even before she stopped communicating, she no longer recognized her family. "The Long Goodbye" offered viewers a glimpse of that painful circumstance.

Nor do I want to overlook the performance of Matthew Modine. He was kind of an innocent bystander, one of C.J.'s former classmates and an ex–beau who had given up the punk rocker ways of his youth and settled into a more traditional life working with timepieces.

He and C.J. had a one–night stand before the reunion, but it was clear that was all that it was. Most of what he did was serve as C.J.'s much–needed pressure valve. Working at the White House brought with it lots of pressure, and C.J. was conditioned for that, but she was facing a different kind of pressure at home, and it provoked different kinds of responses from her at different times — anger, regret, confusion.

The relationship between Alzheimer's patient and caregiver can be volatile and unpredictable. Modine's character was the buffer that every caregiver needs at some point.

This episode was a departure from the norm for the West Wing — and may have been one of the series' best.

Saturday, June 17, 2017

Kubrick Crazy



"These are great days we're living, bros. We are jolly green giants, walking the Earth with guns. These people we wasted here today are the finest human beings we will ever know. After we rotate back to the world, we're gonna miss having anyone around that's worth shooting."

Crazy Earl (Kieron Jecchinis)

I've seen enough Stanley Kubrick movies that I am pretty sure I could identify one even if I stumbled onto one I had never seen before while I was channel surfing.

Some directors are like that. They use certain styles — for example, certain types of lighting or camera angles — in all their films.

If you've seen some of Kubrick's movies, you're bound to recognize things like shots that show as much of a room as possible, giving the shot unusual depth.

Kubrick's "Full Metal Jacket," which was first shown on this day in Beverly Hills in 1987, was like that. I first saw it on the big screen and knew who directed it long before I went to see it. But if my first exposure to it had been a few years later when it was showing on TV and I stumbled onto it when it was already half over, I'm sure I could still figure out rather quickly who had directed it.

I always thought one of the most telling signs that it was a Kubrick movie was the performance of Vincent D'Onofrio who played an overweight Marine recruit.

The character's weight was an important part of the story. The character was originally written as a "skinny ignorant redneck" but was rewritten as fat and clumsy instead. This required D'Onofrio to put on 70 pounds — the greatest weight gain for a movie role ever (eclipsing Robert De Niro's record of 60 pounds for "Raging Bull"). Physical transformations are big in Kubrick movies.

More telling than that, though, are facial expressions. And D'Onofrio, a weak–minded overweight recruit who was ridiculed mercilessly by his sergeant (R. Lee Ermey, a Marine–turned–actor whose name became a household word with this movie), finally snapped.

When the audience caught up with him in the barracks lavatory late one night, the expression on his face was one Kubrick's audiences had seen before — most notably on the faces of Jack Nicholson in "The Shining" and Malcom McDowell in "A Clockwork Orange."

But I've got to tell you. I thought D'Onofrio did Kubrick crazy best. Even better than Nicholson.

D'Onofrio shot his sergeant, then shot himself so he wasn't a factor in what happened in the rest of the movie.

But there was plenty of Kubrick crazy in the second half of the movie.

The rest of the movie was about one of D'Onofrio's fellow recruits (Matthew Modine) and his participation in some of the atrocities of the Vietnam War at the time of the Tet offensive that essentially doomed the American war effort.

From what I have heard, just about everyone who served in 'Nam was at least a little Kubrick crazy — some more than others. And the experiences of the platoon with which Modine found himself in the city of Huế during the Tet offensive certainly seemed to bear that out.

In case you aren't up on your Vietnam War history, Huế was the site of one of the longest and bloodiest battles of the conflict. Fighting there lasted nearly a month. Thousands were killed or wounded on both sides.

It is always striking to me how violent the movie is — but, of course, you can't really make a movie about war that isn't violent, can you? And while it is tempting to criticize Kubrick for making an excessively violent movie, the nonfiction account of that war is filled with even worse.

It also occurs to me when I watch this movie that it must take a special mentality to fight a war. I suppose it has always been that way, even when the weapons in use were not as sophisticated as they are today (although the automatic weapons of today are certainly more efficient than the weapons that were used in the Revolutionary War and the Civil War). So many people are shot (graphically) in full view of the audience and the other characters in the movie.

I tend to put myself in the position of those other characters. Would I be able to carry on with an offensive after watching one of my best friends get killed in front of me? I feel like I would at least need some time to grieve before channeling my energies in another direction — so maybe it is a good thing that I was never called upon to fight in a war.

But in "Full Metal Jacket" — and probably in reality — there was no time to grieve, not even for Modine when a buddy from his boot camp days (Arliss Howard) was shot by a sniper and died in Modine's arms.

They found the sniper — turned out to be a young girl, probably in her teens. One of the guys in the platoon shot her and as she lay dying she begged for someone to end her life and her misery, repeatedly saying just two words — "Shoot me." Modine finally performed the mercy killing.

"Full Metal Jacket" was nominated for one Oscar — Best Adapted Screenplay — but lost to the big winner on Oscar night that year, "The Last Emperor."